EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS = Favorite Spice Last Foreign Vacation Spot : Nutmeg Seattle--Sounds like a guy who is a gunrunner/flies a
dope smuggling plane.
SOCIALITE ALIAS = Silliest Childhood Nickname Town Where You First Partied : Bip Millbrae
"FLY GIRL" ALIAS (a la J. Lo) = First Initial First Two or Three Letters of Your Last Name: You can call me Hermie G.
ROCK STAR ALIAS = Any Liquid on the Bar Last Name of Bad-Ass Celeb : Johnny Walker McQueen--has a ring to it.
DIVA ALIAS = Something Sweet Within Sight Any Liquid in Kitchen: Sugar Latex--could be an interesting porn name.
GIRL DETECTIVE ALIAS = Favorite Baby Animal Where You Last Went To School: Ducky Trousdale--I kinda like that.
BARFLY ALIAS = Last Snack Food You Ate Your Favorite Drink : Cracker Bacardi
SOAP OPERA ALIAS = Middle Name Street Where You First Lived: Mary Beech--sounds like someone who played someone's mom on a soap in the 1950s.
PORN ALIAS = First Pets Name Mothers Maiden Name : Tinkerbell King--will be starring with Sugar Latex in a girl-on-girl flick...
DRAG QUEEN ALIAS = First Pets Name Street Where You First Lived : Tinkerbell Beech
I am so happy that Marion, my next door neighbor came
home from Vermont yesterday.
I was taking care of things at her house while she was gone. It seemed like every time I turned around I had to feed somebody or water something or clean a litterbox or walk somebody else.
She has two cats and a dog. I believe I've mentioned Atticus before, the German Shepherd who started me on my new career as a kanine perambulist. The cats are brand new--to her, anyway, they came from the rescue shelter.
A lovely, black puma-like creature named Alex, shy and brooding, yet very affectionate, I have taken to calling him "Alexander Attaturk." Then there is a siamese without a name yet--at the shelter they were calling her "Buffy," but Marion said she will not call any pet of hers "Buffy."
NoName likes the garden, and justifiably so. The garden is an enclave of color, with deep purple clematis, clay vases with water lillies blooming out of them, and roses and nasturtiums by the score.
I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off, with my own errands in addition to aforesaid duties. When I finally got home at around nine, I had a horrible head/backache. Disregarding the 420 herb that Marion had left on the coffee table, (no doubt in the hopes I would see it) I went to my mom's medicine cabinet and stole a vicodin, grabbed a cold rag, and went back over to watch tv with the pets.
Marion had encouraged me to watch tv, borrow her CDs, play her Netflix DVDs, whatever I wanted (people have a
tendency to trust me to stay in their houses by myself a lot. Lucky for them I'm a trustworthy kinda gal.) She has two tvs, one in the kitchen, the other in her room facing the bed. I had been having breakfast and dinner with the pets in the kitchen while they ate, so they wouldn't be lonely, but I had resisted the urge to televise in her room on the grounds that since Marion is gay, I might get cooties (how homophobic does that make me?)
Last night I dove onto her side of the bed in front of Bill Curtis and "Cold Case Files." A cold rag on my head, a pleasant narcotic haze coming over me as Alex snurggled me lovingly in the semi-darkness.