First of all, guestbook spam. What the fuck? No one ever leaves me messages, then I have two but they're spam. So what if I never update with anything interesting anymore, you people should stop by and say hello now and then.
Secondly, I have taken to chasing our cat Steve around the backyard like the ugly girl on the playground after a cute boy. (Steve! Stevie! Hey Steve! Do you like stuff?) He's a skittish cat and will let me pet him but I have to kind of corner him and force myself on him before he submits. I find nothing wrong with this behavior. In fact, I enjoy it. Is this wrong?
Thirdly, listening to a baby scream inconsolably for two hours straight is stressful. What is more stressful is when one reports this behavior to said baby's mama, who offhandly says, "Oh yeah, he did that the other night. I should have told you not to feed him the milk out of the first two bags." Thanks.
Fourthly, I am crabby.
Fifthly, S. and I watched THE LAST WALTZ last night. S. had never seen it and I hadn't seen it since it came out. It holds up remarkably well, probably because it was filmed by Martin Scorsese. But what I had completely forgotten was a very embarassing and sad appearance by Neil Diamond, who at the end of the concert tries to share a mic with Joni Mitchell and some others. She wisely refuses to let him near the mic and he eventually wanders off to sing with Dr. John, who apparently was too shitfaced to realize what was going on. There's a picture of the Joni diss: HERE. In watching the film, I was also reminded that while Robbie Robertson was the hunk of The Band, Levon Helm was the best, most soulful persona and singer in the bunch.
Sixthly, my dinner is ready and I am going to go eat it.
Lastly, as always, bite me.
