Being that I’ve been stuck in New Jersey for 2 weeks, I thought it only fitting to climb on the bandwagon and get me one of those bumpin Jersey Shore nicknames that all the fabulous cool cat guidos have. I was going to gel up my fur and start pumping some serious iron, but I figured the nickname would be a start for now since I’m destined to always be white, never tan. And the verdict is... Wait for it... B-train. God I am the coolest. B-train sounds like a complete badass. B-train does whatever he wants, ain’t nobody messin with the B-train, back up off that train bitches... The B is bringin the trouble, a train of trouble, the trouble train...
And I did bring that train to the resort during my alone time staycation. Choo-choo. I could tell that the resort workers were totally falling for me, even though they kept insisting on calling me “bad cat” and I got yelled at on average every 2 or so minutes. I scratched the oriental rug, I hissed at people, but in reality I am like Raymond, everybody loves me. So like, whatever man. B-train ain't hearin none of that. Basically the entire week was like an extended game of hide and go seek. I kept hiding and they kept having to come and seek me. Most of the time I was in the one room that I was not allowed to be in, the one with the large custom constructed barricade in front of it. Nobody could figure out how exactly I got in there, and I certainly will never tell other than to just say I’m one hell of a cathlete. The other time I was behind the very hot cable box on a tiny shelf with wires around my neck. Nobody talked to or petted me for a couple hours after that one. I don’t think the resort workers will be too sad to see me check out. The B-train is about to leave the station...
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