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Welcome To The Bitchery
Illustration for article titled I am not a writer. And a rant about my fucking cats.

First, I am in the midst of writing a full on blog-posty article thingy. I have always loved writing, but I'm pretty sure I suck at it. I guess there's no way to know for sure unless I put something out there. I'm planning on it being about my experience working in heavily male-dominated fields, and how the advice commonly found on the Internet is shitty. We'll see what happens.

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Now on to the cats.

Illustration for article titled I am not a writer. And a rant about my fucking cats.
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Pictured you will see Nemesis posed with her kill: a brand new bag of Goldfish that my mom bought for me when she was visiting. They were my favorite treat when I was young, so I was planning on saving them for something special. Not pictured are the hundreds of Goldfish cracker pieces that were strewn about my living room and kitchen. I had only left the house for 45 minutes to go to the grocery store. The Goldfish were in a cabinet, which means this is now the second type of child safety locks that have been defeated by my two demonic hellbeasts.

I locked them in the bedroom while I cleaned up, only to find that they were chewing on the door when I went to let them out. They are now getting the silent treatment, no toys, no playing, and no treats for the rest of the night.

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They are fed twice a day, given ample hairball treats that they love, played with, petted, and snuggled daily. These cats want for nothing.

...except to destroy everything I love and cherish.

(The black and white picture is not mine, I got it from the Internet forever ago)

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