Ah yes, and before I forget again (even though this is going to come through late), Happy International Women's Day. :)



Some more updating from since that last one... I'm such a terrible person. I went to the pet store with Mark, on a quest to finally get him a betta fish. We didn't get a betta fish. Instead, we got a special kind of fish; the kind that's small, furry, cute and requires pine shavings and a cage to live in. Yeah, a hamster-fish.

She's really cute, a little teddy bear hamster. As of yet, she's nameless, but Mark appears to have caught my odd-naming of pets disease, and his possible names for her are up on his site. Do me a favour and email him, telling him not to call his poor hamster Bugeyes, would you? Thanks. :)

It was fun setting the cage up with him; Mark bought her a Safari Habitrail kit, which we managed to put together without breaking anything, each other, or fighting. Quite an accomplishment for a couple, no? As we were putting it together, Ben and his gf wandered in, so we gave them the rundown as Mark filled the cage with shavings. Shortly after we finished saying how the little hamster was going to have a quiet few days, as recommended, 'cause of the stress of the move, Ben's gf reached in the cardboard box to pull her out and got a bite for her troubles. This, boys and girls, is what happens when you don't consider the welfare of the animal you're handling, the fact that it's not the same animal as your own, and therefore not used to you or even that it doesn't have the same temperament... or the instructions that are being told to you. No matter, everyone was fine, and Mark's new baby asserted her dominance of his room. I should watch my back.

We got her all established, then sat around for at least forty-five minutes like the goons we are, grinning and commenting on her every action:
"Oh look! She's pushing sawdust around!"
"C'mon, climb up the ladder, that's right... oh no, she fell!"
"Okay, so that's her nest now, and that's ... where she's going to sleep. Where there's no sawdust."
"Aww, look! She's stuffing her cheeks!"
"Yay, she found the water dish and... oh no! She fell in! Funny hamster!"
(Mark squeezes the water bottle to produce a drop of water to show her what it's for and gets one on her, so she uses it. Next time she touches the water bottle, however, she runs across the cage to the litterbox and hides in it.) "Oh, look... she's afraid of the water bottle. That's no good!"

Anyhow, she seemed to settle in rather nicely by the time we had to take Mark to work. In that time, she'd formed a huge pile of shavings in one corner, checked out an apple stick, emptied another corner of shavings, eaten some seeds, nibbled on a healthy pellet, stuffed her cheeks full of seeds and shavings, drunk some water, kicked a bunch of litter out of the litterbox (damn hamster!) and explored everything but the exercise wheel (that's my kind of hamster). I told you we'd watched her like goons. :)

Came home and started the family diet with a dinner of broiled skinless chicken with hot sauce, and Dad and I had noodlies and vegetables. I only ate about half of my chicken (probably because as I was starving before dinner was ready, I polished off a bunch of peanut M&Ms). After dinner, we retired to the basement and watched Tadpole, which Mark and I rented once upon a time and never watched, and Road to Perdition, which I hadn't originally wanted to see, but ended up enjoying somewhat.

I ate some chocolate eggs, and was going to offer some to Dad when Mom told me not to; apparently he's not allowed anything like that. Dad was commenting at one point how he wanted munchies, and he knew that was going to drive him nuts, and he kept threatening to impound my chocolate (although Mom was doing a good job of that herself). Anyhow, it all led up to Mom saying, "You want some chocolate? Go have a glass of water!", which I thought was absolutely hilarious.

"I'm PMSing and really craving chocolate... better go grab myself some water!"

Anyhow, I had a huge orange and Digger and Shadow jumped up on the couch. Shadow rested herself mainly on me, and Digger settled by my feet, where Dad rubbed his ears and head for about an hour solid. They were both quite pleased with the experience, although the polar fleece blanket looked pretty awful afterwards.

After the movies ended, we were flipping channels on the television and found some old 70s show called "Emergency (some number)." The secondary plot involved some woman who was trying to take her son, whom she'd kidnapped, out of state, in spite of some terrible illnesses they both had. I started making fun of a UFO-shaped lamp at one point, then, when the woman said something about "How could I have done this? I just wanted my son!", I chimed in with "That's okay, you're just a woman; you didn't know better." I said I was waiting to see them pinch her butt and call her cupcake. Dad said they did that in the 50s and 60s shows, not the 70s. Then he started critiquing my education, asking if that's the kind of thing they taught me. :)

I then commented that I'd seen a 70s porn once with John Holmes in it, to which my dad said, "Johnny Wadd!" (one of his characters from a series of movies). I said that it wasn't a Johnny Wadd film, that it was another that Holmes had a bit part in... then I followed it up with, "Well, so to speak." Dad had a good laugh at that, and called me gross or something. I was in fine form tonight. :)

Hrm. My fish are giving me a headache. Why? 'Cause you need to buy more drugs from me! My empire is stagnant!

Oh yeah, and I finished up with the archives in The Whore's Boudoir. They're now posted over at this site in a nice article by title/date format, and you can read through them one after another. I like it... and not just 'cause I did it. :) Lemme know what you think of it, either in comments there or here; I check 'em both regularly.

Heard from one of the web site guys that I wrote a note to, asking "please let me write for you!" He's willing to test run my stuff and likes what he's seen of it here, so that's pretty cool. Of course, it's another of the "write whatever you want" deals, which means that I, of course, cannot think of anything suitable. *grumble* Maybe I'll write about how my fish are trying to kill me... oh yeah, did that. Meh. I'll think of something, if this headache goes away. :P

Okay, now I really have to go to bed. Staring off into space isn't really getting me anywhere but closer to tired. Last thing; I also got the nails redone, so now they're nice looking again, and quite a fair bit shorter than last time. Now they don't interefere whatsoever with my typing, which is nice. :)

At least the headache has receeded, so I can think again. Sorta. :P