Whopper.

I think my cat is the softest cat in the world.

It is a beautiful day.

I am going to wake up at six in the morning. And by eight thirty, I will be glad I did so. 

Some monkey ripped some woman's face off. They should have kept his nails filed.

I think it would be fun were it possible to get temporary plastic surgery as a Halloween costume. I would totally get my nose thinned like a baby carrot, A LOT of lip plumping and get my eyes opened real wide. This would be a hoot.

Maggie and I decided to be Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh for Halloween last year. And then we undecided it. But I still think it would be fun next year. Although cold. 

It's really a shame I am not in Altar Boyz.

Maybe I should run for governor. 

Oh balls. It is going to be cold in the morning.

There is some picture of Beyonce laying on the beach in a black bikini attempting to look sexy and carefree and she appears to have a salamander glued to her ass. Takes away a little bit.

Hoo de hoo.

I am apparently going to have one little girl someday. This is according to a needle. But this needle seems to have a good track record, so I have decided to resign myself to this prospect. I have discovered the bright side, which is: I will dress it up every single day as things like a bean, a raccoon and a butternut squash. It will HATE me. 

Brandon Becker has highlighted his hair. I'm still reeling with bleary confusion.

If anyone who reads this happens to see Scott W. this coming week, please strongly suggest to him that he take the governor switch off his little motorbike. I am a supremely accomplished pesterer and I feel between the however many of us we can convince him to do this. Actually probably not, but it is worth a try and I am just aching to ride the putt-putt to the Tavern.