I woke up this morning to the fat cat puking on the bed. Twice. I went to the bathroom and thought, "Boy, what's that smell?" Not your normal funky bathroom smell, mind you. Because the sink! The sink was full of cat puke! I'm sorry - I just felt like you should know that. That's how my day started.

Yesterday I started watching Debbie Does Dallas, but sex kept on interfering with the plot line and I had to turn it off. I asked Darren last night if Debbie and her bitches ever make it to Dallas. Imagine my excitement when I leanred that they had! Way to go, Debbie and gang.

My days have been reduced to counting down the hours until Iron Chef is on. It's bizarre that Darren loves this show, and thus introduced it to me, considering he will eat nothing with more than two ingredients in it (counting salt as an ingredient...barbeque sauce too). If you don't watch Iron Chef, it's probably about time you start. If Darren can appreciate it, anyone can.

In an hour and a half that young man comes home from work. I've been in complete isolation, unless Hoark the Cat is considered ample company, for roughly 40 hours over the past three days and that's enough to make any person lose it a little. But now I should go make dinner and do the dishes because I'm trying to earn a diamond. Since when do diamonds appeal to me? Could it be that my estrogen levels are peaking and I'm finally realizing that, yes, I do have boobs and that means I should want diamonds? They're just so gosh darn PRETTY!