A fine coating of dog saliva

If you want me, you can find me, left of center off of the strip, in the outskirts and in the fringes, in the corner, out of the grip, taking a nap.

Sleepy grrl, reporting for duty.

Thanks, before I forget, to some radio station playing The Jackson 5's ABC this morning, which helped wake me up, and thanks also to Rosario Dawson for making me like that damn song in the first place. Rent Clerks 2. You'll understand. Brent likes The Dawson and at first I thought he was crazy, but now I understand. Clearly I wasn't paying enough attention to the hotness that is Rosario. Rent Rent. (Ha!) You'll understand. (Not the singing-with-the-candle part. The singing-in-the-strip-club part.)

Day 1 of The Housesitting Venture went off without a hitch. The lawn got watered, my arm almost got yanked out of its socket by playing tug with Toby, the smallest and strongest goddamn terrier in the world, and I got to take a bath in a Jacuzzi tub whose jets I cannot yet figure out how to turn on but oh my god the pre-bed bath was heaven by itself.

I woke in the night a few times which Toby mistook as Time! To! Play! And! Lick! Maxine! I quickly learned not to nudge the dog awake when I was rolling over and going back to sleep. I woke at one point to find myself sandwiched between Toby, who was under the covers with me but on top of the sheet, and Kyle, the 84-pound cat, who was sleeping ON my feet. How is that comfortable? How??

I'm headed home at lunchtime to check on Gizmo and George and to grab a few things I forgot to pack yesterday. Goddess knows I needed my porn, tiara, bunny slippers, and riding crop.