Living with Cheeto is dysfunctional, like working in a cube farm with a stripper. You’re just trying to go to work, respect everyone, and leave. But she’s in stilettos and stripper clothes next to you, pole dancing up to standup meetings, pole dancing down to get coffee, flipping hair and arching her back every time she runs the debugger. It would be maddening. You’re not allowed to touch, cause that’s wrong, as it should be. But its awkward, staring so much. Cheeto is 20lbs of squishy cheddar cat magnificence.  He will mess you up with his sharp parts if you even look at him too close. Then he eats his neurosis away. Here’s a dollar bill kitty.

Kirby loves life and inappropriatenesses. He joins my B double E double R U N. He wants ham. He tolerates anything, for ham.