Meet Ugly Bat Boy (that's his real name)

Ev sent me this article a couple weeks ago, and each time I go back through my inbox I have been squinting in solidarity with this cat, unable to delete him. I feel we may have a lot in common, see. Not necessarily on the plug ugly front (hopefully), but when I look at him, I feel like he commands sort of a wise, grizzled aura. The face of one who might not be the most attractive fella on the block, but whose eyes implore you not to dismiss him, because this cat has seen shit. Those are eyes that have observed the cookie crumbling over a half-empty glass and can confirm that, yes, life IS often a bitch and then you die. If Annemarie and I end up living out the scene at the end of Death Becomes Her whereby we sit in the back of the church at our ex-husbands' funerals wearing giant floppy hats and sunglasses, laughing and chain-smoking, this is the cat I want sitting on my lap. He's sort of like a real life Azrael, which I suppose makes me the living embodiment of Gargamel, and that's pretty much who I'm channeling these days anyhow, so okay.

Hey, Happy Friday!