In Memory of Aintwortha, the Original Fleabag.

We had a cat when i was five years old that was called Aintwortha Shit. We just called him by his first name. My earliest memories in life are of my dad chasing this cat down, in speedo underwear, throwing couches around, cuz aintwortha reached up and clawed his toe while he was napping.

My cats all have fleas. Big time. its so bad i can’t pet them anymore and it happened basically overnight. One day i saw a couple fleas scurrying across their bellies out of the light. The next day … man it was out of control. Now, where ever there are lounging felines or cat poo, fleas lurk waiting for ankles to bite. I was chillin by my window near a corner where the cats sometimes poo, and all of a sudden i had about a hundred fleas on my feet, biting.

So i wore my black speedo calvin klein underwear all day. I was paranoid that they would crawl up my legs and get into an area where i really don’t want them. there are three spots in the house i am not able to kick it: near the lawn chair in the courtyard and the two upstairs corners.

It doesn’t matter anyway cuz i am gone for good, to Beijing tomorrow. As for those who are wondering why I am not already on the torch run, holler and i’ll fill you in.


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