Things The Boy From Dallas gave me this weekend:

a lightly used cat condo that his cats ignored and mine have already taken over
a door-hanging fuzzy mouse cat toy
a bottle of windshield wiper fluid (convenient, because I just ran out)
a bottle of car Febreeze (is he trying to tell me something?)
3 lbs of butter
2 t-shirts
a 6 lb bag of frozen meatballs.

Folks. I am loving the direction this relationship is taking.

I hung the DHFMCT up last night and let the kitten rock out with it for a while. The best part is when he went running for it, lunged and flew head first into the wall behind it. Good times.

However, since it's a string toy and cats are dumb, you really should put it away if you're not able to supervise them with it, lest you come home to some sort of feline bondage scene. So, I took it off the door frame and rolled it up and put it in one of the kitchen drawers last night. This morning, when I was getting all my food for the day together (lunch, 10AM snack and 3PM snack, shut up) I opened up a drawer to get a baggy for my cherries and GAH!! A MOU....oh, it's that fucking thing.

The t-shirts were both too small for him and his son, and he's in the process of cleaning out his apartment. Which means I have a bounty of men's shirts coming at me soon. Whoo!!

The windshield wiper fluid and the Febreeze were also the result of rabid spring cleaning. It's cool though, 'cause on my way home, my fluid light came on and well, my car does kind of stink.

The butter. Heh. I'd love to make up some kind of story for this, but the truth is it's pretty damn boring. He works for a freight company that ships frozen stuff and apparently the butter was rejected because of the packaging. Not because of anything gross, like a giant salmonella germ (virus? wad?) driving the truck, OK? Anyway - I got a text the other night "how many pounds of rejected butter do you want?"

See? How could I NOT like this guy??

The meatballs were the result of a snack gone awry. I needed to eat something before I hit the road, so he opened up his freezer and asked if I'd tried these frozen meatballs. Uh..No.

"Well, they sell them at Sam's."
"I don't have a Sam's card."
"You don't??!?!? Here, here's a bag, take these"
**fwump!**
"um...could you get this off me, please?"

If you'd been in my parking lot last night, you would have seen me struggling to stuff a six pound bag of meatballs into a cat condo. They didn't fit, in case you were wondering.