got'cha papi.

Of course, we all know Papi likes to torture me, hence he has been dubbed the Tranny Terrorist.

His most recent femme fright was not really meant to make me crazy, but it does.

His relapse of alcohol began on a trip alone to see his sister get married in Mexico.

Leave the bugger alone for 10 minutes and he's into trouble!

Well, for this trip, he continuously mentions that he's uncomfortable with going to an all inclusive where there is drinking going on from the moment people hit the beach!

He talks about it, because he needs to.

I just keep asking him when he's going to tell his sponsor.

He doesn't have one.

So, yesterday, nonchalantly mentioned that I was going to take one of my pain killer infused muffins along for the trip.

"Nobody would know.  They would just see them as muffins and banana bread!"

Oh, the tizzy I got my tranny into.

The foul language he used!

The redness of his face!

The bulging eyeballs that seemed to pop out, not much unlike a cartoon character.

I have found my ammunition.

Of course, I was half honest, because the only other option for me to bring is morphine.

I hate pills.

Hate them.

But the Dominican Republic will not let us in if I have any traces of my medicinal cannabis in my system.

This means that I have to take morphine for the last month of us living here, and be off my natural pain killers for 2 months, in hopes that by the time they test my blood, I'll just look like your average pill poppin' femme.

And I'll be puffy.

Puffy, bitchy and tired.

But the whole point is, I am moving somewhere where the hopes are that I won't have to take those devil pills anymore.

Or at least, not very often.

The amount of prep for this is almost mind blowing.

Just to get ready for our short trip is enough to get the tummy squirreling around in there.

We bought two MASSIVE, and very ugly suitcases to bring some of our belongings that will be living there on this trip.

We're going to put them in storage there.

So, we have to go to our storage here.

To bring stuff to the storage there.

It's sorta ridiculous, and we hope to hell we can find a place to keep them there so that the next trip isn't as expensive with 5 animals.

Well, one of the animals is a little lighter.

Seems the stress has Psycho Kitty losing all his ass end fur.

It's really ugly.

This will not do for his television appearance.

And now, off to the vet we go to find out how to fix it, make him pretty and perhaps get a manicure for The Bastard Prince who lost one of his nails in the last Tom Cat Operetta which had him scrambling to a higher level.

Blood everywhere.

No, this is not sexy enough for their television appearance.

i accept abundance