Tag Archives: I’m Moving to Canada

Don’t Be So Dramatic

Kiefer says I have a problem, possibly a disease. He’s not sure how to classify it, but it appears to be a little of these:

  • Hearing
  • Memory
  • Interpretation
  • Exagerration.

For example, I’ll be sitting on Kiefer’s lap, and then this happens:

Kiefer: Stand up. I need to get something.

Thoughtsy: I can’t believe you just called me “fat.”

Kiefer: What? I did not!

Thoughtsy: You just said I was so fat that I was cutting off circulation, and I needed to get up, so you could call 911 before your legs were permanently damaged.

Sometimes, it’s more like this:

Kiefer: Get off my lap. I need to get up.

Thoughtsy: You hate me.

Kiefer: What? No!

Thoughtsy: You said I had to get up because you couldn’t stand to be near me one second longer. That I was sucking the life out of you by touching you. And now you’re moving to Canada to get away from me.

It appears that whatever disease I have, it’s contagious. Because the other day, this happened:

Thoughtsy: I’ll be right back.

Kiefer: You hate me.

Thoughtsy: What?

Kiefer: You just said my lap is totally uncomfortable to sit on, and you have to go get a pillow before your ass is permanently damaged.

Thoughtsy: Wait…What’s wrong with my ass? Did you just say my ass is fat?

Kiefer: What? No!

He almost had me. Almost.

Favorite Comment From the Last Post: “Woah! Woah! Why have I never tried these Pop-Tarts? My life is incomplete.”—Ginny