Note to nonexistent readers: this post is not about the International Mr. Leather Fest, which takes place in Chicago every Memorial Day weekend and is attended by my friend G, who doesn't even read my blog. My kitten has achieved fame due to having his photo posted on
a internationally reknowned blog that is read from nearly every state in the union (Idaho, Jesse?) as well as Canada, and possibly more exotic locales.
Jesse, author of said blog, was on a whirlwind trip to Wisconsin this past week. Monday night he pressured me into driving to a horrible city but to a nice home, that of Unruly Julie and Don, where we imbibed, chatted, got confused between Jesse the cat and Jesse the human, were barked at by Magellan, etc. Don, who is freakin hilarious, tells the "land baron" story ...Next morning, Jesse said he thinks it's cute when the kitten kills his piggy, but not
when I tell him to look at the kitten killing his piggy. He is defiant, but he did shoot that cute photo. It is Jesse's birthday and he calls and leaves G a very saucy message on his work voicemail. Then we go to Mickey's Dairy Bar for breakfast, where I make the mistake of ordering lunch food. But it was still better than Smut n' Eggs in terms of atmosphere, lack of waiters wearing penis hats and lack of stench.
