Randomness.
August 03, 2004, 10:16 p.m.

I broke down. I lack total self-discipline, and I should be beaten. For so long, I have resisted temptation, but I've given in.

I bit off my nails.

I managed to curb the habit for a few months now, but they'd gotten so long that I couldn't resist. They called out to me:

"Bite me!" they said. "Bite me now, dammit! Can't you see how big I'm getting? BITE ME!"

So I bit all of 'em on my left hand. Now my fingernails are raggedy and short on one hand, and long and neatly filed on the other.

And this is why I could never become a hand model. *le sigh* My dream is forever ruined.

Poo.

My sweetheart is comin' over me house tomorrow. Yay! Let us shake our booties in celebration!

Shake shake shake
shake shake shake
shake yo bootay
shake yo bootay

Haha. Love those blockquotes.

My nephews are spending the night again. Not that they're a burden, of course. Scooter's whining about everything under the sun, as he usually does. Marquis is fartin' around (literally) and watching cartoons. They argue every two seconds because Marquis got the phone first, and Scooter doesn't want to watch what he's watching.

Nart: You're just a stinking monkey.

Scooter: Well, you're just a living nothing.

Nart:How can you be living and nothing?

Scooter: Why are you questioning me?

Nart: You're stupid.

Scooter:Well, you're stupider than the cable box!

Nart: A cable box is an inanimate object, and has the IQ of zero.

I've taught Nart-Man well. Everyone must bow down to Nart-Man's intelligence!

Even so, I still kicked his ass in Scrabble today. 160 to 91, baby.

Scooter dropped out of the game after passing three times, staying at 15 points while Nart was in the 20s and I was near 70. Poor Scooter-- he's not the brightest crayon in the box.

The ticks are just about gone now, even though I've been saying that for days. Occasionally I'll see two or three somewhere, and I plucked a half-dead one that latched itself onto my back and promptly flushed it down the toilet. The humans are slowly winning the battle of Tick vs Man.

Even though that's the first time a tick has actually bitten me and stayed, I'm not too upset; they don't like human blood anyway, and often I find them waiting on the canopy surrounding my bed instead of in my bed.

It's comforting.

The kitties are old enough to be weaned from the kitty formula, but they don't want to change. Their teeth are growing in, but they'd rather chew the nipple on the bottle instead of eating actual food. Pathetic, I say.

I've got two of 'em eating, though. They seem to enjoy the actual food.

Such smart ones.

The other two aren't ready yet, but I'm hoping that they'll give up their need to stay babies and move on to semi-solid foods, for I am tired of refilling bottle after bottle of formula; the four of them altogether can consume an entire bottle of formula now, whereas when they were smaller, they barely ate half.

They are biiiig kittens.

My dad has been chewing everyone out lately, ever since he found my brother's gun in his truck.

I don't know what the big deal is. Charlie is of age, and the gun's probably registered. Besides, our father never instilled in us the reason why we shouldn't own guns; he carried a gun in his pocket for over twenty years as a cop, and still has a rather large shotgun in his closet.

Sometimes my father is a hypocrite.

But anyway, he's been biting everyone's head off about every little thing, and recently threatened to hang Bert because she keeps peeing everywhere. I tried to explain to him that Bert has gotten really old, and she's become senile, and she'll probably die within the next year, but he won't listen. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I did find her hung in a tree.

My dad is such a jerk sometimes.

Ta-ta.

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