This is fucking Steem man! And we're fucking Steemians!
Tonight, while I was on my way to the animal hospital, for some fucking reason, I couldn't help but think about Steem. I kept fucking thinking about what I was going to post. I kept thinking "WTF! Why are you even thinking about that?" But I guess that's what it means to be a Steemian.
I always wondered why people posted after insane tragedies in their life. Yet what else are we gonna do man? We're fucking Steemians, man! Life goes on, for some of us, and we fucking post man!
That's what we do!
Every fucking moment of the day we're coming up with ideas for what we're going to post. I have a fucking folder full of them, and three at least that I'm planning on posting...I guess tomorrow, because my fucking tragedy took precedent. I'm not going to post about some dumb shit I got in the mail for my fucking hobby when my fucking cat died, man.
He was my baby... He slept by my side, and tried to not gnaw on my leg too hard in the morning to wake me up to feed him and let him out. Sometimes he'd even let me sleep in. Okay, a lot of times he let me sleep in, because I'm a fucking lazy ass.
I'd always leave my door open for him though, so he could come in and sleep next to me, and go out and wander around the house, then jump up on my bed in the middle of the night and half wake me up, just to look out my window.
I'm gonna miss him.
He was my kitty.
And he was fucking soft man! He was the softest kitty ever! He was like a fucking bunny rabbit...or a chinchilla or some shit. And he tried to not bite too hard...sometimes...usually it was just a warning to leave him the fuck alone and stop petting him, because he never really liked be petted that much.
But life goes on.
And we fucking post man!
I don't care what the fuck happens, you fucking post about it. And you hope that it will get a ton of fucking upvotes, and a fucking rocking comment section...and sometimes it doesn't, but fuck you man! Who cares! It's fucking Steem! We're getting paid in crypto, and giving it away every fucking day, and having fun, and making friends, and hanging out on the fucking computer, because we're crypto losers.
Yeah, fucking admit it, you're a crypto geek, just like me.
But we're doing the fucking future right fucking now. Maybe it's crazy to do a blockchain based social network where everythings fucking forever, but they fucking did it, and we're fucking on it, and you know what, we're fucking Steemians. In a few years, maybe this place will be dead and gone, or maybe we'll be millionaires, or maybe fucking both man, but right now, we're Steemians, and we fucking post, because it's what we fucking do. It's who we are. Every moment, every day, we're thinking about the shit we're gonna post next.
Like this post. Hate it. I don't fucking care. Comment. Shit on it. I don't give a fuck. We're on the ground floor. And maybe it will go nowhere, but in this moment, we're here, and we should be here, 100%.
Rock on. Die. Rot away. Come back as a fucking chipmonk and bite some guys nuts off.
Peace.
iq501 totally mistyped this and called it steam, but pay no attention to that, because he did a pretty kick ass job on the image! CCO (source)
You lost your kitty! Sorry for your loss, and shaking my head in recognition of the love/hate relationship - how many time do we threaten (but never act on it!) the cat who bites legs (but not too hard) and wakens the Slave to get breakfast going. I issue daily death threats against Bobi the Bad, who is the loudest, most persistent complainer in the cat kingdom, and I swear I won't shed a tear when he departs this world at last, but look at my newsfeed... all the Bobi posts.... yeah. He's here, and he's part of my world, for better or worse, and when he's gone, I will think of him daily, and possibly even... miss that cat.
Judging by the number of F-words, that cat must have had quite a hold over you. Words of sympathy are worth even less than my 1-cent upvote, and I'm at 80% "Power" for the next 21 hours. Powers. Sheesh.
Party on @geekpowered!
Well, my cat was actually really well behaved. He would often "attack" without claws, just for the fun of it, grabbing your leg as you passed by, then jumping off and running away. When he "bit" to wake you up in the morning, it was just enough that you felt it, but didn't really hurt that bad. Worst was when you were playing with him, and he'd get a bit carried away. He listened more than any other cat I have had. Sure, he didn't always listen when I called, but most cats ignore you.
My old cat from years ago was a lot better at trying to keep his claws in, because he was REALLY dangerous, and he knew it, but Kai actually listens, and doesn't bite the fuck out of you because you aren't awake at 5 AM.
Yeah, and sorry, my language is pretty bad, especially when I'm upset.
Your ginger tom reminds me of my glorious old barn cat, Tommy the ginger tom.... He'd perch on my shoulder and dig, dig, dig, puncturing my shoulder and back with his marvelous mouse-killer paws. Such enormous paws, that old ginger tom. The affectionate "clawing" was never unwelcome, and no other cat has taken Tommy's place, just as you have yet to find a cat who's a good listener, and I will never find another Maine Coon like Merlin, the court jester, the clown, who posed as a fierce, wicked looking lion, scaring off everyone but me when I saw him caged at the pound (yep, there for three months, like Bobi was, passed over, because he looked so surly and wicked).
Perhaps someday I will mourn the untimely demise of Bobinski the Big Mouth. That loud, demanding little tyrant! In. Out. In. Out. Oh, and wake up at 5 a.m. to turn on the faucet. He only drinks from a faucet. I hate you Bob! is the one phrase I utter most often, these days.
You'll come to know and love other cats, as will I, as soon as the Bobster dies and we are free to adopt another cat. Bob the Brat persecuted Merlin so relentlessly, we had to rehome my beloved Maine Coone.
Die, Bobi, die!
Thank you for being here for me, so I can be here for you.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Botty loves you. <3
I guess writing about it and posting is a way of letting it all out. The emotions, the feels. The bourden is a little easier if you share it with others. Wish you strenght, gp.
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