Trouble.

Dog and Cat are finally sleeping soundly -- thank you Jesus. 


Cat has decided her new thing is meowing with a tone and volume that seem to signal "BITCH" -- loud, sharp, and far more aggressive than her usual purr. She does this while she lays next to dog alternately licking his face, biting on his jowls, and voicing her displeasure with my humanness.


Dog is pissed with me because we did not walk our 3 miles, as required by his royal highness. It was raining, I was tired, and to be honest, there is a First 48 marathon on. I gave him two bones and he decided that was good enough for him. He's now snoring peacefully.


There is a date option for Saturday, with a ravishing Internet stud I'll call Fireman. Fireman seems good natured, manly in that delicious way I love, but sadly apparently sharply conservative in values. As long as he doesn't lean Tea Party right, I think I'm fine with it.


This date may of course may elicit a gasp from those of you that know me, not because I'm okay with Fireman's Red-ness but because I'm going out with someone that isn't Trouble. 


Trouble is a guy that is just as his name suggests, sheer awfulness packaged in the most glorious dirty rocker nerd ever. He is the immature, self-involved, egotistical, man of my dreams. Alternative, geeky, and the most insane kisser I have ever experienced. Yet, it seems as though Trouble views me simply as another stack of money to add to his proverbial bank account -- something for him to collect along with his new Lexus. 


Truth is, I've simply had it with him -- I will always love Trouble so to speak... but I suppose that I just have outgrown my taste for breaking the law.