8.26.00 You should go to my pitas page for updates this week (and last). Very little FTP access, will explain. Moved a few hundred miles. See? Lots to explain. It's worth it. Excitement abounds, as do tiny sentences.

8.03.00

Truman has been acting up lately, scratching and biting and generally being a rude kitty. I think it has something to do with bonnet I make him wear. He also wasn't too happy when I tried to shave his fur today. I didn't want to completely shave him, just give him a little less fluff to deal with in this heat. My record-spinning hairdresser Chuck used to do something like that to thin out my hair (I gots tons of hair, and it is fine in both senses of the word). So you'd think it would work with a cat.

Alas, when I flicked the Bic, Truman must have thought that I was attack him, so he proceeded to fight me. The gash on my right thumb now serves as a reminder that next time, I'll have to break out the Flowbee.

8.02.00

I preferred the privilege of not being a heel. Prior to a few months ago, I didn't really have a "biggest mistake of my life," but now I sorta do, and I feel all quacky about it.

Tuna Helper, anyone?

8.01.00

Oy vey, quel(le?) week. Ma$e and I were going on a roadtrip, but we didn't have a working map. I kept voting to buy one, but no, we relied on the broken-English directions of two guys at a Citgo. Well, they told us to go one way, which put us about 100 miles out of our way. We kept driving in our little rented Mitsubishi, though, and after another hour, we saw a roller rink. The next thing I knew, my clavicle and stomach felt a sharp, shooting pain... oh, wait, I can't tell this story. Rats. It's a really good one, but if I told it, Ma$e could potentially be in enterprising trouble. By the way, I'm not talking about the born-again Puff Daddy tagalong rapper, I'm talking about Maysan. People call her Mayse, which I shortened to Ma$e. I also do a little jig when people call her that. Oh so crazy.

It's another Audrey Hepburn movie day. There's nothing that makes me want to be more poised like a viewing of Sabrina. One thing that doesn't quite click in that film: if Audrey/Sabrina is the poorish daughter of the Larrabee's chauffeur, then how can she afford Givenchy frocks? Sounds like a plot hole to me.

YES! I am a long way from home, and I am indeed wearing clothes in that picture to the right. The straps of the tank top barely show up, though, which is more than a little awkward. However, all of my clothes are in the wash right now, and that's left me with tank tops and evening gowns. So sue me, it's not time for prancing around in fancy schmattes.

Still working on the redesign and re-organization. I'm trying to finish it by the weekend. So far, I've renamed links in about 300 pages, leaving about 500 to go. Should all look nice.