The (hopefully) newest member of our family:


She is a one-year old brown tabby with extra toes. I say "hopefully" because even though we paid for her on Saturday, and she is getting fixed this week, and don't really have permission of our building manager yet, heh. Hopefully things will be okay, even if we do have to pay a bit extra.

Her original name is "Khandi", which obviously has to change. Here are the top choices (I think we have settled on one, but I urge you to provide other names), keep in mind that our other cat's name is "Sexy", so we kind of want to keep the same vibe going.

Possible Names:
Muffy
Mulva
Hottie
Cutie
Sixy (as in, six toes...)

Obviously, not a good idea, especially during a lightning storm.

Of course, not everyone has common sense:


Those are some bad ass mother fucking clouds right there. And yet, those dumbass parents let their kids play up until it starting raining. Idiots.

....that as my blog celebrates its 600th post, I celebrate my 27th birthday.

It's been a good birthday, all things considered! I got to spend some quality time with my family, as well as my man. The man didn't have anything TOO elaborate planned, supper at a very nice restaurant tonight. Last night he gave me a very nice pendant and earrings - not diamonds, but genuine sterling silver! It's definitely a step up from the blow up doll and the swearing punching back of last year. He did good.

I've gotten lots of great gifts, some expected, some not. I think I miss the annual bday celebration with Lisa and Vicks, but I know that will be coming later on in the summer.

Well, I'm off to have some wild, sexy, monkey birthday sex. Happy Birthday to me!

I've had a bit of writer's block, I must admit. It is partially due to a 'secret side project' which isn't as exciting as it sounds, partially do to my recent fascination with Second Life, and for the most part due to the fact that this is post number 599.

I'm not sure why, but that seems like an awfully big number, and it should be celebrated accordingly. I feel like the 600th post needs to have some oomph to it; not just tales of anal leekage and movie reviews. Does anyone have any ideas?

Also, has anyone else noticed how some die hard bloggers are starting to fall by the wayside? I can count at least three or four of my favorite blogs going through an existential crisis. Are bloggers out-growing their blogs?

I think part of the problem with blogging is that some people eventually see blogging as an obligation, not a hobby. I don't plan on ever closing down my blog, for the same reason I never throw out a diary or journal (see posts circa November 2003). You never know when you'll need it again.

Well, that was interesting.

Mr. Wondering and I decided to drink our work stress away and visited the local bar near our apartment. We sat on the periphery of the outdoor patio, watching people interact. Most notable was Mr. Anal Leakage who insided on moving his skanky, wet ass closer and closer to ass throughout the night. Upsetting, but funny as well.

There were also many pretty girls and bartenders there, which made Mr. Wonderful quite happy. On my end, there were lot of 50 year old men with thick, bushy mustaches, so I had to settle on watching the girls, and watching Mr. Wonderful watch the girls.

After many drinks, and many shots later (I paced myself a bit more, so MW helped himself to 2 of my shots, and one of my coolers), we stumbled (literally) home. Mr. Drunk and Stupid decided to cook himself 3 hot dogs, while I headed off to bed.

And that's when things went wrong.


As I was drifting off to sleep, Mr. D&S flopped down on my bed to let me know that everything was spinning, and that he was going to take a shower. I figured if the spins were setting in, I knew things were not going to go well. He stumbled off again, and I made sure to keep an ear and a half open, should he completely pass out and drown in the shower.

Instead, I hear the unmistakeable sounds of wretching, and spitting. Ah, yes, the hot dogs are coming back up for an encore. I gently knocked on the bathroom door to offer my services, but they apparently weren't required... yet.

Remembering my childhood and my good, nurturing mother, I gather a bowl, a big glass of water, and 2 advils and put them in Mr. D&S's bedroom. I went off to bed again, only to hear my name being called, jolting me out of my slumber.

I ran out to see him, buck naked, hunched over the bowl I had set out for him. I'll spare you the details but.. ya, it wasn't pleasant. I then realized that I'm the responsible one here. I'm the one who has the empty the barf bucket. Gross. Fuck. Really, in hindsight, it's a good thing I was drunk, as I don't think I minded as much as I would have were I sober.

Note to self: Throw out barf bucket/former salad bowl.