Kamikaze Head Butt to the Shin

Vash is in love with the neighbor cat, but alas, it is a love that shan't be. She sits on the porch, and he sticks his paw between the gap, between the door and the ground, futilely attempting to touch. And then I come up behind, pick him up, and rub his tummy. Because that's how I get my kicks.

Speaking of Vash, here is my view of him right now.

Any day my new glasses should come. Any freaking day.

I'm nurturing this dark and unholy desire to write, but the words are all stilted and nervous. So I've given myself permission to write the grandest crap on the planet, maybe that'll help me past the wall. Or maybe it won't. Whatever. No pressure. (And no punch line. Mwahahaha.)

But then there's a couple more hours before the sleepy time, and if I can keep myself from indulging in NeverWinter Nights, something might actually be accomplished.

And frankly I think it's cruel to post on your website that winners will be announced May 1, when now it's May 11 and no updates have been made. Hurry up and disappoint me! I must needs know the outcome! I can only assume the contest in question has already contacted the winners and is waiting on receiving 100x100 *.gif's, headshots, of the lucky three. And they're all having a party. And I'm not invited. I'll show them. I'll have the best party in my head you ever seen.

Lastly, Karen does indeed know the origin of "kamikaze head butt to the shin." I made a grievous misstatement in saying there were only two of us, when in fact there are three.