Should Love Bizarre be Love Bazaar?

I have a date tomorrow! This guy owns books on writing, grammar, language! ME TOO! He's smart. He has tattoos. He looks a teensy bit like Tom Cavanaugh, except cuter. He may have a receding hairline. He has a dog. He said he is "really excited" to meet me. You would think I would learn my lesson and not set myself up for heartbreak but I think I've discovered that I am a hopeless romantic. A cynical, hopeless romantic. Plus I want to have sex. I mean, if the sex is no good, I'm not going to waste time pursuing anything else. MAYBE friendship, but maybe not.

My house is great. I love spending weekends at home. I bought a weed eater/trimmer last night so I can whack weeds tonight. I don't really have grass, so that will suffice. I bought some bookshelves that hang on the wall so I can put my lovely Nancy Drew collection up.

My Zune is being a bastard today. It's playing every song I don't want to listen to right now.

Go lookit my Flickr pictures. I have more Milo pictures to put up. He gets bigger every week.

My neighbor's house on my left side - the people, I guess the owners, are gutting it. I think they're getting ready to rent it out again. I hope the new people don't trash it out.

My neighbor's house on my right side - we share a driveway. It's an older couple, the man is always outside with no shirt on and he has a huge tattoo of Jesus's face on his chest. The house is horrid. I don't know what the inside looks like, but the outside, in the backyard, has clothes all over the back porch. Their washing machine is out there and they hang the clothes to dry. The wife is the only one I see doing laundry, and I don't think she can get around very well. The son is probably my age and he comes home and I think he sleeps in the shed in the backyard. Well, the shed takes up the backyard. The other morning I took Milo out and he was sitting in a car, asleep, with the door open and the radio blaring.

I'm the only white person on my block. That's okay with me, I don't notice and I don't care. Up the street one block is a church where the service is in Spanish. On Sunday at noon the church bells ring and it sounds pretty. They ring throughout the day, too. I take Milo for walks. The other night we met another Welsh Corgi named Sam. The lady said she's always had corgis. Sam was pretty pissed off for some reason, but she told us to come back and they could get acquainted.

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For lunch I had a Reuben sandwich, and it had spicy mustard & mayo on it. See, that's what I hate about Texas. They have to take a perfectly good sandwich and ruin it.