I feel pretty good about today. Been on a farting spree all through the sort. Don't know why, but farting at work makes me feel good. Maybe it's because the sound of the machinery drowns out the noise my flatulating makes. Or maybe it's because I work so near watserfatface and I hope she gets a whiff. *shruggs*

Junior died two days ago. He was one of my cats. Emma's son, had him since he was in his momma's belly. She was too small to properly breast feed all her kits, so I'd supplement them with a bottle and formula. He had been with me for five years. Needless to say, I cried like a little bitch.

However, it's over now. Digging graves always makes me feel better. As if that helps connect the event in my mind, and I can let go. I know I'll be alright.

Plus, today I got a dog. Yeah, that's right. Barely lost a pet and I rush onto another. But such is life. And no, I'm not trying to replace my �u�or. But the Doggy (literally - that's his name, Connie said) needed a home. He's a Boston terrier. Actually a purebred! I don't think I've ever had a purebred for a pet before. Both 'Ama and the Dud say he's ugly. Uhhyeah. He's also slightly aggressive, but I think that's because the smells have overwhelmed the guy. Poor little one. He's a year and a half. Don't think I'm gonna let him keep that crappy name.