I once wore pixie short glasses and yellow rimmed hair

My God. Can Multiply please pull the Jesus Pics adverts down? I can't browse through My Multiply in peace.

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Lately, it's been catching up on sleep, recovering from fatigue, winning my cat back, talking to Pat, and reading.

Thursday's run of Midsummer was great. My mom and her badminton buddies watched and actually sat a row directly in front of Ria's mom. While one of my mom's friends saw programs on sale, she thought out loud that she'd buy one with the conscious decision to support the show. When a program person came right by her, she asked if senior citizen discounts apply.

I really sort of didn't want to meet my mom's friends. I hardly know them but they seem to all over me. I practically hid in my room, my cat hiding along with me, while they went at the Magic Sing over and over again. They'd just punch in song numbers for me, a more technically advanced version of "sweetie, play the piano for the visitors." They did have their comments, which my mom relayed to me. "They said your voice is too small" or something like that. "Why don't you take classes at Ryan Cayabyab?"

"Mom? Are you noticing how I'm looking at you right now?" My mom doesn't have a register for emotions whatsoever, being Ilocano and all. But I digress. I don't know her friends. I know most of them, but not her faux pas tendency friends. Oh well. This is just an Elizabeth Wurtzel-esque rant.

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Speaking of Ellie Wurtzel, Prozac Nation sucks. A friend shoved it into my hands as if an act of good will to make me more informed and pop-cultured than I contentedly am. All Wurtzel does is rant. But I believe her when she is helpless. She's a great writer and all, but all she does is complain and give social commentary. Not that her social commentary is irrelevant or boring. It's smart at times, but it gets jarring.

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I'm actually reading Prozac Nation for Pat. He asked me if it was bull****, and that querry made me wonder of that were the case anyway. I was just starting the first chapter when he asked me. I guess we'll be exchanging notes on depression, comparing Wurtzel's and his.

Pat's hilarious, smart, a goof ball, a terrible speller, and one for brilliant repartee. I stared into a webcam while chatting with him once and he knew what I was saying without typing anything. Pat justifies my sleep deprivation, but we're hoping and praying that we'll be in the same time zone pretty soon.

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Junior my cat is snuggled in a paper bag of clothing supposedly for repairs and adjustments. She's turning into a big girl now, and it's recently that she started coming back to the habit of returning to my room and camping in here. Yay Junior!