Cheetos: The Opiate of the Masses

I'm staying at my Aunt JoAnne's and she has some of the best food that I never get to eat such as Cheetos. I don't know how much actual cheese or real food are incorporated into Cheetos (I believe it's 1% cheese powder and 99% chemicals), but I really don't care because they are so good. I am leaving orange fingerprints everywhere I go. I must be careful not to commit a crime before I shower as they will surely be able to track me down.

Yesterday, we went to the mall and Best Buy and got my Christmas present. Can you guess what it is? Are you wondering if from here on out you might be inundated by various photos of the cats doing really nothing exceptional? Over and over? You will. Pictured above, you will see a lovely photograph of my one and only mother. Below, please find my most artistic photo to date. Those are the legs of my grandmother. As you can see, I am a natural with the digital camera. Please note that it is 3 degrees above zero and she's wearing sandals. I asked her about this yesterday and she said that it didn't matter because her toes are usually numb. I said that it does matter because socks and sandals are a total fashion faux pas at any age.

Not sure what we're doing today, though it may involve pizza and soap operas. Mom is making a list of movies to recommend for my grandma to rent. I suggested Little Women, but she's probably already seen it. If you have any age-appropriate suggestions (she's 89), please feel free to send them. Nothing with extended car chases though such as Smokey and the Bandit.

Oh, yeah, and I have been emailing with Julie today and she suggested that I write a novel about all of my bad dates/boyfriends. I wrote back to tell her that it would have to be an encyclopedia because A-C would take up like 400 pages. But I don't know how I would structure it. It would have to span from age 5-current since I was precocious and had crushes on boys from the moment I was allowed in public. I remember being in kindergarten and trying to position my sleep rug so that I could be next to this cute little black boy named Daryl. He would put his hand on my knee while we napped. I was a flirt for the word go.