Dogs. Up at 5:00 again. June's sleep. Screwed up again.
June. Sick of dogs since September 16, 2011.
sik of who, mom? how you sik of eds? i nice. espeshly at 5 in morning.
Because I have to be at work in .0006 seconds and I am here in my robe with Edsel REPEATEDLY dropping his Kong on my foot, I must scurry through my news.
Last night was my friend Chatting's book signing. She has written a book called Grace for the Good Girl, about growing up all religious and such, and how she was different from everyone else as a result, and what she's kept from her upbringing and what she's tweaked.
I totally shoplifted a copy. Because I have never been a good girl.
The most important part of this story is that I loved her cocktail ring. Which is ironic because I don't think she even drinks cocktails.
Also, the world's cutest, life-of-the-partiest baby was ahead of me in line. She actually smiled at me, which trust me, is rare. Babies sense my evil. Although sometimes they get mesmerized by the hair and forget the evil.
Anyway. Glad I did that. I always feel so personally important when my friends accomplish something big. Yes, I CAN take any situation and make it about me. What do you mean?
Okay, must go. It is approximately 18 degrees out all of a sudden and I get to wear the adorbale fall shoes I bought for this job back in May. Go, silver lining.
June, out.
