bag - cat = good times

and so the proverbial cat is out of its proverbial pillowcase (mr nice guy was growing weary of swinging the cat in said pillow case helicopter-style over his head. his arm is sore. it was time to let the feline free). the people have been told; mrs. nice guy is out of the closet.

a few reactions so far:

great-auntie-nice guy, 87, pater nice guy's late mother's much beloved spunky sister: "she throwing up? good! if she's sick, it'll stick." (quick find me some wood, i needs to knock. also, who knew we were related to johnny cochrane?)

mr. nice guy's raffish friend: "make sure, when she goes into labor, that you have a flask of booze ready to go. trust me, you'll need it. she doesn't need to know. get vodka, something that doesn't leave a trace on your breath when you drink it straight. you'll need it." (funny, i am drunk right now)

another caddish confederate: "make sure mrs. nice guy's bowels are good and empty before she goes to the hospital, because believe me, when she gets on that table, everything that's inside her is gonna come flying out. and no one needs that." [gah! -- ed.]

this from a rake: "nice to know you had it in you. or mrs. nice guy. whatever. great news."

along similar lines: "good to hear your boys work."

some schmuck: "did you use levitra?" [mr. nice guy has actaully always found the product name "levitra" highly amusing. like it makes your cock magically levitate or something. which i guess it does. so it's aptly named. never mind. --ed.]

and so on.

mr nice guy, shameless mama's boy that he is, also recently made the probably misguided move of telling his beloved mater about this little web endeavor. all part of the effort to boost mr nice guy readership above three people. her reaction: "i don't wear knickers. i wear a thong."

this goes some distance towards explaining why mr nice guy is the way he is.