How much do you want to make a bet that the kangaroo doesn�t give two shits, let alone understand, that she will be receiving accolades? Interesting. If the RSPCA wants to personify our animal cousins, giving them silly award shows is certainly one way to do it. I do admit I�d be proud if it were MY pet, but alas, it is not and for that reason alone, I choose to mock it.

I am a bit hung over this morning. M.s. took the Barbarella drink one step past perfection and I must have had three of them last night after class. Sipping my delicious concoction, I sat and laughed with a solid crew of six last night and watched a CLASSIC . Hee hee. Needless to say, I got through the day yesterday, and as was safe to assume, it came to an end. Class was fine, and everything worked out. After everyone had their fill of jiggling boobies and poorly faked accents, our guests took their leave. When I stood to bid them a proper farewell, it suddenly became apparent to me just how drunk I was � very. My goodness! I began to giggle (oh, the power of the Barbarella drink!), and then, after everyone left, I do believe I attempted to ravish M.s. He quickly rushed to my �aid� and after several screams of delight (my shouts of �OH GOD!� as proof that on a carnal level, I must believe in a higher power), I promptly passed out, literally purring, with the lazy, pleased smile of a cat stretching out on the carpet in a spot of sunlight.

B-Monster to the rescue this morning, along with a bottle of water to replenish me, re-hydrate me, and clear away this little fog in my head. Tonight, we dine with my darling sister and her very funny boyfriend. They�re cooking (wish us luck), and we�ll all watch Tommy Boy, another classic. M.s. has NEVER seen it! It will be hard for him to hear over our laughter. Chris Farley and David Spade in their primes, just thinking about the scene of them singing in the car makes me giggle.

Enough! I have work to do. And TOMORROW, I�ll be plenty distracted.

-Barbarella

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