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24 october 2000

good morning

Cheerio, Denizens! So I worked and worked to get lid up, and I'm still waiting for a couple of poet bios. Slow as cold molasses, these poets! Ye better send me yer life story or I'm going to start making stuff up. Which is not an entirely bad thing.

Anyway, this morning I wondered if it was a wise idea to get out of bed. After all, the sun was just peeking over the horizon, I was snuggled under the down comforter, and Wilma was purring "I don't have a job. Har, har." Into the shower with me, and that's where the trouble began.

Did you ever get out of the shower and realize you had only shaved one leg? Okay, welcome to my morning.

Not only that, but Wilma got a little gift this weekend that is making her act funny. It's a catnip chew toy, and she loves it. I hung it from my chair so that she may attack at her convenience. However starting your day with a stoned, somewhat paranoid cat is somewhat tiresome. She grabs my ankle, drags herself behind me with every step, and then jumps into the sink like it's an army trench. Note to self, put chew toy away for evenings only.

I sneak out the door while Wilma is temporarily occupied, seeing how much of her foot she can fit into her mouth. Off to work I go!

Someone has been smoking in the elevator. I momentarily contemplate my anti-gun beliefs, and think there may be an exception to people who light up on the lift.

Alright, so then I'm on my way, when I find myself behind Suburban Assault Vehicle #417, and the Soccer Mom to beat all. Not only does she have an ozone hole with her name on it, but a vanity plate, too. Know what it says? WIFEE. Wifee?

Gaggee.

I am not enjoying the feel of one leg shaved. The Zen of Discomfort.

Alright, so anyway, what are you guys going to be for Halloween? Got any fun plans? I have been invited to a swing dance party, over which I am simultaneously excited and anxious, and praying that no one tosses me through an air vent. I suspect that I will have a swell time, tho, and will not be writing to you from the traction ward of our local medical center. You may place your bets now.

I have been unofficially nominated for vice president, it seems. Which is fine with me. You think Al Gore can deliver some juicy smooch-ola action? Pucker up, America. Kimmy's gonna give you a Tipper. MMMMMMMMMMWAH!