I am sorry to report that although Rachel and I kept our fish going for a solid ten months, Gabriel and Dr. Vanilla Ice both went to the big rice paddy in the sky last week. ¡Que lastima! But in a way this can be good. It opens us up in the event that we are able to acquire a rat or maybe a kitten. A kitten named Baxter!

I can't really explain why I get so hung up on the name of a pet, but I can say this: I love animals with people names. I've had birds, fish, cats, dogs, and for a brief while I had a snake, all with people names. Why people names? I don't know, maybe because if you think an asinine name like Spot is clever, you need your lobotomy reversed. Or maybe because I am more inclined to like an animal with a person name. Just like I am more inclined to like a person with a person name.

Although I can see myself becoming great friends with a homeless man named Pepper.

Wade, my handsome boyfriend, wants to get a kitten with me even though we don't live together. I told him I certainly wasn't going to raise a kitten as a single mother. It takes a village to raise a child, and since kittens are basically infants with claws and motor skills, I'm sure my household as a team can handle it, but I certainly can't. Besides, one day I'd have to sit my kitten down and say, "Baxter, you have a father." And then the poor kitten would just be confused. Not to mention I'm hoping I can make it to my death without having to sit ANYTHING in my care down and tell it it has an estranged father.

In any case, I should really go to bed before I construct an elaborate scenario that will eventually incorporate pirates, as I am wont to do when weary. Good night, foolish readers.

Jazzzzzzzz Dance!

I signed up for a jazz dance class this semester. Why? Probably due to some kind of cranial injury. I hit my head on the pipe in my dorm room last year while I was signing up for classes and all the brain cells that knew I am not a good dancer were killed off, and the next thing I knew, I was running across the dance room with my knees bent. I'm pretty sure this is how wars start--one minute you're like, "Eh, I could take a dance class. Try something new." and the next you've got a machine gun in one hand and the steering wheel to a tank in another.

You guys might not know this about me, but I am not a good dancer (I actually said that in the last paragraph. So you should have known, and if you didn't I am now calling you out for skimming). My legs are kind of like Maria in the Sound of Music--adorable and short-haired. The rest of my body is like the nunnery, staring sadly at my legs going in the wrong direction while wondering how it got stuck with this. My ankles actually knock together when I run, which explains the clicking sound that always seems to follow me everywhere. I also have very poor balance when called upon to use it suddenly. Give me a few minutes to think and I can stand on one foot, but shout it at me in a hot, sweaty dance room when I'm trying to also remember to bend my knees and smile, and I'm lost. Not to mention, I am supervain. You guys might not realize this about me but I am so vain that occasionally I forget a step because--get this--I was admiring how great my hair looks today.

What? It does look great.

The worst part about the class is that I didn't realize I hated to dance until after the drop date. Actually, that's not the worst worst part. The WORST part about the class is that I had to audit it so that I could also be in choir, and I audited it before I realized I hated to dance. True, I could just stop showing up. There's no grade. And yet, auditing a class is supposed to imply that you REALLY WANT TO DO IT. So badly it hurts. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mind if I just stopped coming, because, let's be frank here, it's been five weeks and I still look like an idiot. But what kind of person is like HURR I WILL JUST AUDIT THIS CLASS and then doesn't show up? Why even bother auditing then?

So I have to learn to dance, there's no getting around it. Maybe I can utilize my amazing skills to finally make some friends--I've heard those are good. In case you're wondering if I'm referring to amazing skills or friends, I am talking about both.

You're handsome/beautiful/fun personality. Readers, I love you more than I love corgis. Have a good day.