Really guys? Is that what I think it is? Are those...moving boxes? I hate you.
Let's go over this one more time. I hate moving. I hate it as much as I hate cats. And you know how much I hate cats, because I try to eat them. Are you trying to make me eat you? I'll do it. Don't think I won't. I've been eyeing that Mom character for years now. You know I'm not completely thrilled about her anyway. She's the other woman and we've always had this love/love relationship. She loves me and I love to drive her insane.
Okay, I've been your loyal companion for eight years now. In those eight years you've tortured me with this moving crap. I've followed you from our hometown to college to Atlanta back to college then to Washington, D.C. back to Atlanta to Israel and now back to Atlanta. Make up your minds people! If I had thumbs, I'd have hitchhiked my way back home a long time ago.
Yes, I admit I haven't always been the most willing participant in these moves. I may or may not have destroyed and/or peed on your belongings in an attempt to sabatoge. I may or may not have willfully eaten things to divert your attention. I won't say, but if I have it is totally your fault.
Whaaat? What do you mean I have to get on that damned plane again?! That's it, no more Mr. Nice Guy...I'm eating you.