I am over Hello Kitty. Explicitly, I am over the “Look at the newest, nuttiest Hello Kitty product from Japan!” articles and posts. I feel my horizontally-positioned hand rising up to my neck, my forehead, then a good foot above my head as I illustrate to the world to where I’ve had it up. Hypocrite alert: Why, Becky, what’s that in your purse? Hello Kitty checks? I see.

11/24/07, 4:14pm: It was at this very moment that I “got” the joke inherent in Lowly Worm‘s name. Huh. I guess I have to admit now that I was 16 before I figured out why “Kanga” and “Roo” had their names.

I dislike slipcovers.

Sometimes a mere two glasses of Shiraz can unhinge my jaw (and my mind) and suddenly way too much sex-toy and fetish talk come out while way too much cheese and bread platter go in, and I chalk it up to being amped over my birthday week, even though I am turning forty-fuck years old and I really should think about turning it down a couple clicks.

I love baby elephants to the point of insanity.

Aaaand … break! Mental break!!!1!