Scarlett and Ashley, We are Not

Dear Diary,

This weekend the BHE and I are nerding up and heading to Gettysburg, PA. The BHE is a huge history buff dork, so he likes doing this kind of thing. However, when it comes his love of all things historical, he falls short in that he outright refuses to accompany me to the Civil War Ball that is happening this weekend. No no, he'd rather tour the battlefields from the private safety of our car than associate with those other dorks who actually dress up and pretend to shoot at each other (or in this case dress up and dance around, IN CHARACTER).

It's probably best; I can't really see myself in something like this.

And period dress is, of course, required. Hopefully we can at least snicker from the sidelines! But wait, I think we're going on a battlefield ghost tour that night... which is not dorky AT ALL.

Love,
Fluffy

No Subsitutions

Dear Diary,

OK, a coupla things.

1. I tried watching 5 Easy Pieces last night. It's one of those classic movies that I know I'm supposed to have seen, but I never bothered to. Let's just say that now I've only seen half of it, and I'm afraid it's going to stay that way.

2. On the Real Housewives (sorry, but now that it's out in the open...): Even if the BHE had $40k to throw around, if he bought me something as vulgar as that watch and then made a big production of giving it to me in front of all my friends (oh, and millions of television viewers), I would kill him. I mean seriously, Simon might as well have just whipped out his whatsit and strutted around beating his chest. What a tool. And while I'm on the housewives, did Laurie fashion an upper lip out of clay and then stick it onto her face? Because that's what it looks like.

3. I really need to start reading more. My New Yorkers keep piling up. Maybe if they had more stories about the Real Housewives...

4. OK, that's enough about the Housewives for a while. Onto more interesting subjects. Just give me a little while to think of some.

Love,
Fluffy

Maybe She'll Go By Winter Instead

Dear Diary,

Congratulations to Nicole Ritchie (Richie, whatever) and that unattractive loser for having their baby or whatever, and everyone's all like-- ooooooh, what a cool name! Theoretically yes, it is a cool name, but aren't we all missing the obvious here? How long until Perez Hilton starts referring to her as "Harlot?"

I mean come on, that's a freebie.

Love,
Fluffy

Need support, please.

Dear Diary,

I have a shocking, shameful, and possibly reputation-destroying confession to make. Somehow during one of my basic cable channel-surfing blackouts, I came across the Real Housewives of Orange County on Bravo. I know, I KNOW. Sadly, what was a slight diversion from my usual diet of Anthony Bourdain and Golden Girls reruns turned into a full-blown addiction.

This secret has been eating me up inside. But now that it's out, I'm hoping to find someone, ANYONE else who watches this horrible show.

And I'm hoping that person can tell my why that woman Quinn has, like, 28 inch cleavage. WTF?

Love,
Fluffy

Sleepless

Dear Diary,

Things I want that the BHE won't let me have:

1. A Dyson slim.
His argument: "You never vacuum."
My argument: "Duh, I WOULD if I had one."

2. A tempurpedic mattress.
His argument: "You can't sleep because you let our 70 lb lab sleep next to you."
My argument: "No, I can't sleep because I don't have a $6000 mattress."

3. Third dog.
His argument: "We can barely handle the two dogs we have."
My argument: "THIRD DOG!!!"

4. A career as a stay-at-home mom.
His argument: "We don't have children."
My argument: "It's going to be a full-time job taking care of three dogs."

Love,
Fluffy

P.S. - Currently suffering from insomnia because I cracked the whip and made the dog sleep on his dog bed, but he felt so heartbroken and dejected he went downstairs instead. And now I can't sleep because he thinks I don't love him anymore.

A slow week.

Dear Diary,

Since I can think of absolutely nothing to say, here are some photos from my cell phone camera. I used to be really into photography, and had several different cameras going (including 3 Lomos, because I am sooooooooo hip). But somehow over the past few years I have become too lazy for the whole operation, too lazy even to charge the batteries on my digital. So recently the only photos I take are with my cell phone.

So is a slice of the Fluffy life, as seen through her cell phone camera.


This is our friends' new mini boston terrier puppy, Twiggy. After I took this picture I shoved her whole head into my mouth, she's THAT cute.

This is our Christmas tree. Good thing I got a picture, because soon after this the lights blew a fuse and that was that. Updating the electric in our house: ON THE LIST.

This was the scene from my office cube window when we got a rare early snowstorm here in City B.

Memories of a shot of tequila.

New shoes, new watch.

This is our cat, Old Man. Cranky little s.o.b., but devastatingly handsome. Don't you think?

This is my friend J's cat, sitting in whatever that baby thing is. Were I more clever, I might have submitted it to lolcats. But I'm sure it's been done to death (im in ur cradlz, eatin ur babyz?)

This is Bernice, our 55 pound lap dog.

Happy hour spread.

Sunset on top of the parking garage at my work.

So a friend of mine entrusted me with his plant when he left our place of employment. I promptly killed it. And it was a cactus.

Taken from the car: lights on the Washington Monument in City B. (Yes, we have one too.)

This is our friend Mr. Action, gesturing wildly at dinner. Incidentally, he is the same friend whose poor cactus I killed.

This sorry display reminds me that I really need to step up my photography efforts. Click click!

Love,

Fluffy

Of course we're pretty much BFF with John Waters, too.

Dear Diary,

On New Year's Eve we dined at this restaurant, and so did she. But no big deal. We're used to dining with famous people. That's just how we roll in City B.

Love,
Fluffy