Last night my crazy gay crack-addict neighbors invited me over to meet their “babies,” two cats named “Sissy Krissy” and “Black Angel.” Why do crazy people always have cats?
“Black Angel” kept trying to escape into my apartment. I think she wanted to eat Lucy and Barrie.
I’ve worked out 3 times in 2006. I’ve decided to keep count.
I’m trying to have three healthy, regular meals a day – but I’ve also discovered that I could literally do nothing but eat 24/7 and still be hungry.
In another month or so, when the renovations are done, I’ll be getting my own office, one with a door and a file cabinet and a polished desk and a big window that looks out on Meridian Street. I can hardly wait. I guess this means I have to be grown up and stop my practical jokes, eh?
Yesterday I balanced a cup full of white paper-punch circles on top of Kevin’s door. It made a huge mess as the circles fluttered down like snow. It was great.
While my Uncle Dick visited us over Christmas, he was so bored that he hooked up with three different Chinese girlfriends online. Now they all want him to come visit them in China and he’s writing ME for advice. (Personally, I think he could get better dating advice from a petrified tree, but that’s beside the point.) When my grandma asked me what I thought of possibly having a Chinese Aunt, I responded that I like all people and would even be fine (gasp!) if Uncle Dick wanted to marry a black person. Uncle Dick replied by saying he’s never been attracted to black women but, for some reason, they tend to like him even though (and I quote) “I don’t have a flat nose or big lips.”
Wow. Relatives never cease to amaze me.