If you do settle in the South and bear children, don't think we will accept them as southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven, we wouldn't call 'em biscuits.
That little gem was brought to you courtesy of my father, who is in love with all things Southern. I don't understand it, myself, but then I'm just not as fond of my racist redneck grandfather as my father is.
Damn. My web browser has decided it hates me again. I'm going to have to talk to my supervisor...how am I supposed to get anything done on such shoddy equipment?
Last night, I went with Dirk to his 7-11, where he got me free cigarettes and a free slurpee. When I got home, I went online and talked to a few people, when I meant to be responding to e-mail.
It wasn't until I was getting ready to go to bed that I noticed my cat, Sasha, wasn't in. She likes to roam around outside, but she always stays close to the house, and she hasn't crossed the street since I graduated from High School (she used to follow me to the bus stop). Usually, when I get home at 11:00, she's waiting on the sidewalk in front of my house for me. I hadn't even noticed that she wasn't there.
So, I went outside and started whistling for her (yes, my cat responds to a whistle. It's a noise only I can make with any accuracy, and it freaks the neighbors out. Most of my cats respond to this whistle, actually). I stood out there for about ten minutes before I saw her walking slowly up the sidewalk, making her characteristic chirping noise. When she got to me, I picked her up and brought her in. She seemed pleased to see me. Sasha was purring, and not fighting me (which is what she usually does when I pick her up).
Apparently, she held a grudge. She kept me awake all night long. First, she was playing the "in/out" trick. When I started refusing to get up to let her into the room, she opened the door herself. My door doesn't have a working latch of any kind, so I can't keep her out. Then, she started jumping on me as I slept, every fifteen minutes or so. I got nearly no sleep whatsoever. I'm going to murder that cat one day.
Letisha's back at work today. Her daughter got the flu, and promptly gave it to Letisha. Someone was giving out candy at work yesterday, and left some on everyone's desk. Letisha didn't want hers, so she threw it in her wastebasket. After she did that, I suggested that she give her unwanted candy to Alex, who'd accumulated a rather large pile of candy from other people (either donated or filched from their desks). So, Letisha fished the candy out of her wastebasket (it was the type wrapped in foil), and put it on Alex's desk. I love Letisha.
I've put myself on a diet again. I'm feeling fat, even though I look no different. I'm going to give away the box of candy that my parents gave me at work. Knowing the people I work with, that box will be empty within an hour.
I spent most of my morning responding to e-mail. I'd owed Cathy an e-mail for a week or so now, but I just couldn't think of anything to say.
So I'm tired, thanks to my cat. Feel free to curse her for the brevity of this entry. I may write more later, but it's best not to pin your futures on it.