BREAKING NEWS: the elusive brush-brush has been found. Reggie lost approximately 2 lbs. of fur yesterday after a good brushing. Order was restored to my household.

I would have to say that I am pathologically indecisive. But I am a Libra, after all. Being indecisive is what we do best.

But Pathologically Indecisive is also the name of my guest this week. I had lots of lovely renters to choose from, but I had to go with this blog because of (a) the name and (b) the moo cows on the template. Plus Liane describes herself as a “mess of contradictions.” So, there’s three reasons to visit her. Yes, she’ll be here all week, but who knows what wonders you are missing out on RIGHT NOW — like a link to her exercise blog, which includes one of my favorite abbreviations, OMFG.

I got Reggie all excited by saying, “Brush brush!” which is what I call his — wait for it — brush.

But I can’t find it!

He probably dragged it somewhere. But he looked at me all pathetic and sad. He does like his brush brush.

Look at the poor despondent punkin’:

I have not been stung by anything other than a mosquito in years.

Today I went outside to read and immediately was stung by a wasp — on the foot!

I was confused by the pain. I looked at my mom and said, “Ow!” She replied, “Oh yeah, we get stung a lot.”

Screw that. She made me put a paste of baking soda and water on my foot, and it’s propped up now. I’m going to have to take a Benadryl and will probably fall asleep before “Miss Universe” starts tonight. Damn. I better not miss the parade of nations!

In other news, a few weeks ago, the team leader from my last p-t project e-mailed me. A few days later, I replied. Now he wants to have dinner. I think he’s really interested. I just don’t know. On one hand, it’s just dinner. But on the other, eh, well, I don’t know. So I haven’t replied to his latest e-mail …

As a single girl, safety is a major concern.

Fortunately, I have a doorman.

My dad will sleep so much better after I send him this photo. ; )

This is what I deal with each time I take the sheets off of my bed to wash them:

Today’s work shindig included free rein of the zoo after 6 p.m. I took a free train ride around the grounds and learned a few fun facts.

Me to Ryan: “A giraffe has a 14 inch tongue. I feel cheated.”

Ryan to me: “Oh geez.”

In Ryan’s defense, he can touch the tip of his nose with his tongue. Wink.

Alas, no corn hole toss for me today.

Sadly, we missed the bus to the part of the park with the games and by the time we thought again about going over there, it was too late. Sigh. But to make up for it, I have not one — not one! — but two photos of lemurs … and a group photo in front of a polar bear sunning himself. My friend Denise and I joked that we probably could make a lot of money off of this photo, considering we’re both busty gals and our bosoms were touching. Hey, I ain’t too proud to make a buck. (That’s me on the right, btw, new sassy haircut and all. I only had been sweating for about three hours when this photo was taken, hence my dewy glow.)

There are two types of people in this world: People who will slow down and wait for baby ducklings to cross the street and people who will honk their horns and try to run over the tiny — like four inches high! — ducklings.

I mean, really — what could be so important you’re willing to take out a dozen ducklings that are smaller than your iPod?

My apartment complex has a lovely retention pond, of which I have a view. Coming home tonight from my friend’s art show, I saw these cute little creatures scurrying around, trying to get from the median at my complex’s entry to the safety of the grass. I stopped my car and watched, as I wasn’t going to have the karmic horror of their death on my soul. The car behind me also stopped when it neared the ducklings, but the car behind it honked and honked. I stood and watched once I parked my car. I wanted to walk over to the honking guy and ask him why the fuck he thought someone would stop their car in that particular spot for no reason. Ass.

In other news, my leopard shoes made their first appearance of ‘06 tonight. I got mildly glammed up to go to a reception at a local art museum/school, where my friend has a small exhibit. Of course, single, straight men were exceedingly scarse but I still spent about an hour wandering around, drinking crappy cabernet/merlot out of a plastic cup. (Ain’t I the sophisticate?) I’m still slightly weirded out about going places alone, especially on a weekend evening, but what the hell. If I had brought a date, surely he would have been bored — and I use “he” generically, because I have never been to a museum with a date/husband who hasn’t been bored. No wonder I sometimes prefer the company of gay men. ; )