So yet again this morning i woke up with, yet another, horrible hangover. You know the sort; my heart beating in my head, foundation stuck in my eyebrows and the newest addition, my daily wear contact lenses, 12 hours overdue for taking out, glued to my eyballs. All this i can handle, its the hazy memories that gradually come back that make me cringe an really swear im never drinking again. SO... as if i didnt feel bad enough remembering my redition of 'Does your mother know' from Mamma Mia that i sang into a fosters can in front of far too many people... this particular morning was made just that extra bit worse by my boyfriend, still drunk, shaking me awake telling me he was thirsty but couldnt get a glass of water because he was scared by the random cat locked in his kitchen.
I'm sorry what? I swore at that moment that would be the last time i ever drunkenly took myself off to bed early and left people ravin their tits off downstairs til 5am. You leave for 2 hours and all of a sudden a random cat has been locked in the kitchen.
Now i'm the first to admit i really dont like cats, havin had at least 2 dogs all my life, but i really really liked this cat. It didn't seem to hate me for a start unlike every other one i've ever come across, an so there i am, probably still drunk at 7am feeding ham to a random cat. Where the cat actually came from i still don't know, my boyfriend's mates claim they know nothing about it... but these are the boys who go for a quiet drink and end up asleep on a field at 6am.
Anyway, i wanted to take the cat home an keep it, but apparently, according to my mother you can't go round just taking peoples cats, so i was forced to let it go.. in the freezing rain i might add. If it comes back i'm claiming it though...
