Thoughts of The Rambling One

Yes, we were undoubtedly all meant to be hobos.  It's not merely that we are all extraordinarily lazy and fond of astonishing people; it's somehow in our blood...
On the way to college this morning, nothing particularly exciting, like, for instance, a large propellor on the back of a slow truck that took up two lanes, happened.  We laughed and talked about cats: how two of Joe's cats are engaged in some bloodthirsty practices, and how mine, Fiend, is obsessed with stuffed animals.  Also, Bebo was appallingly late, having forgotten his breakfast at home, and I stuck a mascara brush in my eye. 
Joe, for whatever reason (it can be difficult to fathom Joe) likes to take videos of Bebo and I.  However, he misses the really funny things that we do; Wednesday, after he left, we sang opera and breathed like smokers, and yesterday we got attacked by a gangster riding a bicycle with a big gun.  We're okay, though; we fought him off, and that gangster is not going to be bothering any more innocent hobos.
Well, it is almost time for the Most Boring Class on the Face of the Planet (math), so I will draw my nonsensical ramblings to their conclusion.  Toodles!
--Hugo