there are no line breaks when i use that thing? i’m one big run on paragraph.

hey there… this is just a test. i think i finally got this little mac os x blogging client working. s’cute! so i’m just trying it out. queer eye for the straight guy is playing on tivo. i can no longer give QEFTSG my total and complete attention, because after it’s over, i feel crappy. i look around my house, and think of all the things they say when they walk into apartments… then i start to imagine what they’d say if they walked in mine. and i feel like crap. my casita is a mess, there is no organization, there are books everywhere, not even in stacks, my couture is non existant, my hair is in good health but it’s currently a blah color. although, i do have good Product.
Oh, looky, the QEFTSG food guy, Ted, has purchased a wine from chateau st. michelle. which is about 15 minutes from me. up in woodinville. earlier, he told a fish market guy he wanted to do the “seattle thing” and throw the fish at him. it lacked the spirit and talent of the pike place fish guys.
oh -uh… queer guy jai bought the straight guy a lexmark printer. bad idea. crap printers, in my experience. i have no scientific proof of this, just my opinion.

Oh happy St. Patrick’s Day! I am wearing green of course. It’s hardly unusual, however, as it is my favorite color. Dr. Stevil is not wearing green, and I have promised to pinch him later.
St. Patrick’s Day makes me think of Louise, as she always boycott’s based on Scottish pride. She’s ashamed of her Irish heritage. She prefers to think of herself as part Swedish. It’s true. I have composed a St. Patrick’s Day limerick for Louise.
I have a friend named Louise
Who’s heritage it is fun to tease.
Tho Irish she’s not,
In fact she’s a Scot,
Who cares about such technicalities.
Ahhhh…. poetry.
Speaking of Louise, she has two cats, Fred and Muffy aka: Suki. Suki is a shy, sweet, fat cat. Fred is more outgoing, and very friendly, all black, part manx with no tail. But Fred has a slight piddle issue. That issue being he prefers the couch to the litterbox. Louise’s bf’s shoes and pants playing a close second. She’s tried all manner of things to figure out how to deal with it, but nothing has worked yet. We were standing around the pod, discussing the issue the other day, and I told her she needed to contact the pet psychic. She was unfamiliar with the pet psychic, so i explained.
Louise: This must be some American thing… the British would never go for this type of foolishness.
Me: hmmm…. maybe. But you know, I could swear that she has a British accent.
So I tivo’d an episode of the Pet Psychic and guess what? British!! Fully and completely British, she is. As British as …. stuff from England. And while, yes, it is an American show, you can hardly blame us for that. That’s tv. But the psychic herself is most definitely British. The show is great. In this episode, she talked to a huge, gigantic tortoise. As she spoke with him, he kept walking away… hmmmm. She also talked to a depressed dog, a rabbit with a princess complex, a senegal parrot who was suddenly fighting with his budgie buddy, a bunny audience member who said it liked going outside and then inside and then outside and then inside and a giant african parrot who said it liked one of it’s new cat housemates, but not the other. Oh, and it knew that some of the names he was called, by his daddy, were quite rude, but said with love. She also talked with pets who had passed away. It’s all very entertaining.
If I seem skeptical, it’s because I am, most likely. However, if someone asked me if I wanted to take Pru on the show, and bring along a picture of the b, I’d do it in a heart beat. I’d love to know what’s going on in that fuzzy little head of Pru’s. And I’d love to know what Phoebe thought of her life. And me. I miss the b… and her fuzzy little bunny butt. I asked Pru if she was depressed, because the house was a mess and she had no room to run and frolic. She just gave me a look that said “Cat’s do not frolic, we might, from time to time, have extra energy to dispel, across an entire room, but that is all.” Such a lie, that kitten freaks out all the time. In a dignified cat way, of course.