Watch me.

Dear Diary,

I've been on the Danskin website all morning. I'm going to buy pink ballet slippers and a pink leotard, and the BHE can't stop me from leaping to and fro around the house. Oh, to be an anorexic ballerina must be divine!

My neighbor, (who the BHE insists hates us because I said pussy or dildo or something on our front porch) now also thinks I'm crazy. On my way out, he was in his front yard and I was trying to get our cat inside. I was calling to the cat, "Old Man, come on inside. It's going to be hot today." Old Man blinked at me indifferently, so I threw my hands up and said, "OK, it's your funeral" and walked to my car. But when I looked back, I realized that my neighbor couldn't see Old Man from where he was standing. He was just staring at the crazy lady across the street who is yelling at an imaginary old man.

So now the word on the street is not ONLY am I a potty mouth and a drunk, but also insane.

Love, Fluffy