Ever walk into a public washroom that smelled so incomprehensibly vile, that you were ready to walk out and risk soiling yourself later, rather than risk having even a hint of that stench insinuate itself into your clothing and hang about you like a cloud of doom? Um, yah... Me neither. Certainly not today, I assure you. And the fact that I'm wearing one of my nicer dress shirts (which I would really hate to have to burn) has nothing to do with it either.
I know I promised this post would be about kittens. But Santa promised me an Optimus Prime for Christmas when I was 10; if that fat bastard can renege, so can I.