shirtless

i see you out there with all your brown hair blowing around like adonis walking around with your eighteen year old flat stomach and cute smile.

stop waving at me.

when you're in your jeep with the top down and all your hair is blowing in the breeze and you have your feet on the dashboard and no shirt on.

stop waving at me.

when you're walking your dogs and wandering around the neighborhood barefoot while i'm running and i'm hot and sweaty and almost done with this last 400 meters and i'd love to make the whole run in under 30 minutes and you're still shirtless.

stop waving at me.

i might run off the road. i might twist an ankle. i do not see the likes of your hair or stomach anywhere these days but on television.

all i see are beer bellies of drunk forty somethings who love football and hot wings.

your hair is distracting and your stomach is too flat.

please, keep your shirt on.

my sweet lu lu

There is my sweet little Lu Lu. Sweet-nasty-doesn't want to be held-but does want to be pet all the time-and will claw you if you don't constantly touch her-little Lu Lu.


Lu's interests include chatting on the internet, sending cryptic messages through g-chat, and hogging the keyboard. Lu's diet consists of straight from the farm milk and rotisserie chicken (white meat only, please). She also enjoys terrorizing her friend Satchel, and sleeping on plastic bags....

I love little Lu. I've lived with her for a few years, but she's been my responsibility since September, and I love her. I love the way she smells.

She smells like baby powder and spring mornings. How can a little kitty smell so good? I febreez-ed her once, but it was by accident, and it couldn't have possibly stuck. She smells like freshly cut grass and new flowers.

I am the grim-reaper.

I cannot sentence this nasty, clawing, sweet smelling, chicken eating sweet funny kitty.

She is a tired old girl. So tired. It is so hard for her to breathe, and to eat, and to walk around this house. She curls up against the dishwasher, the refrigerator, under lamps, and up against bodies. She is in a constant quest to stay warm. And I am in a constant quest to keep her alive.

I am selfish.

I love this little kitty, and I cannot let her go. I demand she live forever. Those bright green eyes are full of evil and mischief, and I love them. Her little white toes peek out against her black body, and I love them. I love this little kitty too much.

I hope her heaven is full of chicken and milk and warm fluffy clouds and an internet connection.