There is a very fine line between “hobby” and “mental illness.”

I may or may not break my own leg, depending on whether I will still be forced to attend my grandmothers birthday party. Please help me. My mother is doing those flower things for the table called something like "cassarole-ledges." I am being bullied into helping her wire up flowers for the next week. Anyone who wants to take me out of this lonesome environment is very welcome. Please.

My cat is snoring rather loudly and is taking up my whole bed, making me retreat to the safety of my desk. That cat just lurvves causing me discomfort.

Woke up this morning to find toni's foot in my face. Yes, Antonias' foot. I went for a sleepover there last night, and ate lots of chocolate. Talked to her Irish lover and some random guy from America. Don't ask. Judging by the manic screaming up and down that accompanied me playing 1000 miles, It sounds ok. But it was joke, and we got some funny pictures. Which will be going up on the internet, of course.