Driving for Sex, Kittens and Essays

I'm supposed to be doing homework....instead I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop, a kitten, the TV on and I'm blogging.  Very constructive.  I'm not sure who is more at fault here.  The ridiculously adorable kitten who makes every attempt to create a bed out of my keyboard or Facebook?  Wait...it's me?  Damn!

I'm writing an essay on an Orson Welles film.  Incredibly, I found an old Vanity Fair article that says everything that I want to say!  I wish I could just copy and paste and pass it off as my own creative genius.  Unfortunately, there are words I've never heard and my professor already thinks I'm a bum.  Great.  I'm grown and have a career and still my professor makes me feel like the dumb girl who sits in the back of the classroom averting my eyes in hopes that my name won't be called to answer the question I didn't understand in the first place.  So as I attempt to translate this fancy Vanity Fair lingo into something that sounds more me and less like plagarism, I get distracted by something sparkly and end up watching Private Practice while I eat chocolate peanut butter ice cream.  I'm well on my way to great things....

I got a new kitten the other day.  I'm wondering if my biological clock had something to do with this - I don't want any more of those little people we call babies, but my body hasn't quite gotten the message yet.  I mean, what other reason would I have for getting a 1 pound little fluff ball that I carry around everywhere I go because I'm afraid my other cat will eat her if I blink for too long?  Did I honestly think that I had time to take care of a 6 week old kitten when I'm working, going to school and taking care of a newly teen-aged boy who thinks that bedtime is an option and video games are the only way of life?  I don't think so...but that doesn't mean that I'm not completely distracted by the extreme cuteness that's so cute it makes me want to throw up.  Please don't let me turn into the crazy cat lady.  I swear...two cats is the max for me.  I won't get any more!!

Question - how far is too far to drive for sex?  Is two hours a bit extreme?  Well, my Mr. Big is now two hours away from me because I made the oh-so-brilliant decision to move to a land that reeked of mystery and intrigue, but really just smells like stale beer and hangovers. Why did I think that college boys would be a good time?  They're broke, still get acne, and don't know how to brush their hair and put on decent clothes before hitting on a girl that is way out of their league.  Going to a bar here is like daycare gone bad....and not only is it a stabbing  reminder that I am not that young anymore, but it's a slap in the face when I remember that they're just a few years older than my son.  I can't do the big dirty with someone who is that close to being young enough to be my son.  And when in the hell did bangable guys get to be young enough to be my son??  I am not that old, thank you!  I'm barely in my 30's after all.  So here I am in a city full of hot young things that I can't touch because my legs refuse to uncross when in their presence and that forces me to do what I swore I wouldn't...I'm driving two hours so that I can get some.  That's right...I'm going on a long distance booty call.  Don't judge.  At least the sex is good and makes me walk funny after he twists me up like I'm a friggin pretzel.  Being bent up like a crazy, distorted pretzel can be painful...sometimes I pretend that I can still breathe while my body bends in places it shouldn't.  I suppose things could be worse.....

The kitten has fallen asleep and my essay isn't going to write itself...I guess that means it's time for me to go.