No one wants me. Last rejection letter for employment received on Friday. Well, I've decided I don't want any of them... at least not right now. Fred needs to get a real job so I can be content to overwork for underpay. I got an assistant, so that should be nice for while.



I crave apple cider. With cinnamon sticks. I'm a Friendster. Join my legions.

Someone wake me when West Wing starts getting good again. Maybe it really
did always suck and the finale was just so good it ruined it for the regular episodes.



The cats caught a mouse today. Their first catch. Finally starting to earn their keep. Luckily, I wasn't home when this was discovered. Fred left me a voicemail with the news while I was interviewing for an assistant at overwork. Now maybe they can do something about that vole up in the ceiling...

There's a ladybug walking around on my files. A client brought it in and I plucked it off her fuzzy collar. I put it in the trash, but I didn't smash it or anything. So it must have flown out and now it's tooling around my files. It makes me happy. Its one of those spotless orange ones, so I'm not sure if it's really a ladybug or not. I once heard someone refer to the orange ones as potato beetles, so that's what I sometimes call them. However, a little web research indicates that potato beetles are striped. The one here with me looks like this. She's cute.

Today is gooey again. Too much snot, not enough lotion-ey facial tissue. Too much data entry, not enough reliable internet. My stress ball is a blood drop with plastic hands and feet. I like him. I wrote my name under his left foot. I accidentally wrote on him with a wayward pen stroke. Now he has one little hair coming out of the top of his "head," like a desperate bald man. It's time for resting and West Winging and gargling with salt water. Sickness makes me want chicken soup, but I don't think it's in the cards. By the way, I gave up industrial meat. I was already toying with the idea and the first two chapters of Mad Cowboy made it a pretty easy decision. Now, you have to help me stick to my guns!