Bitch, moan, bitch.

Losing my religion.

Man, sometimes I forget things arent as dreary as I try to bitch about.

My Pal Poo used to be my mental health monitor, steadfastingly refusing to accept whine with the cheese I was dishin out, forcing me to be *grunt, stretch* more positive in my attitude.
(I think it bores her Gemini sensibilities, but whatever it takes...)

Yesterday, just when I was starting to lose my religion, JettaGirl told me about a dream she'd had that would make no sense to few folk but myself.

(She was freaked that it had her in NY talking to me, I was freaked by what she said we were working on.)

Boys and girls.. that was a good thing.

Basically, her dream was about what I'm trying to accomplish.. hitting the nail square on the head.

Wow.

I needed to hear "Youre on the right track".

And secondly, I jumped on AIM for the first time in ages.. and Tish was online - hoping I would be on - and told me what I needed to hear.

Even though all she said was "Things will be fine".. I needed to hear that.

So, I'll keep the faith - and not lose my religion after all.
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On CNN: Report of a Japanese virtual dating service (using a cell phone with a built-in camera)...

The report concludes "On the service, men can only have one partner at a time, while women can have up to three. This, the makers say, simply reflect reality."

Of course.

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Because Im yer basic night-crawler, I rarely get back in before dark.

Well, the bus on Staten Island travels on dimly lighted streets, and the landmarks at night are gone.

So, I never know when to ring for a stop - hard even during the daytime.

Except, now I know.

I always look for Santa.

Itsa Christmas decoration that the owners of this building havent pulled down.

No matter what, every time I see Santa.. *bing*

And Im home.
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Because of the EasyEverything Internet cafe (now a haunt of more college and Euro kids than you can shake a stick at) Im in Times Square quite a bit nowadays...

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As HappyCat goes positively limp in my lap, purring happily as I scratch behind his jaw.. I'm still wondering if I shouldnt get me a cat.

For Fred her BunnyCat ranks in the top two of the Most Important Things in the World.

Marn's accounts of her fat, er.. fluffy field general, Zubby usually has me dyin.

For Waterbelle.. life would end without her cats.

I consider them great writers.

Hmm.. as a writer, does it help to have a furball around?

Id love to have a dog.. but dogs really need their own space..

So, until I rent/buy a house, that'll prolly not happen.

Tish told me that them rubbing up against her kinda freaks her out.

(Rich busted out laffin as I related that to him, saying "The damned thing is just marking his territory!"

Jules of LA though, allergic to cats herself, warns me that there is scientific evidence that cats carry a virus linked to schizophrenia in people.

Hmm. That would explain a lot....

*brush brush* *#^%$^* Damned cat and his *$^#% hair.. *brush brush*
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