blame Heather

I had big plans yesterday that involved cleaning and possible trips to the beach.  Instead I spent the afternoon with Heather which, while unexpected, was delightful nonetheless.  Even though she spent most of the time on the phone, at least I had these two nice ladies to entertain myself.

They love each other!  And Paris suddenly loves me too.  She let me pet her for like a minute and a half before she turned and bit me, then hit me with her paw very pointedly before walking away.

Apparently having the afternoon off work left Heather with nothing but time on her hands and troubles on her mind.  She decided that her freckles were indications of skin cancer and the only solution was to get gangsta mirror tints done to her car.  I at least talked her down to normal tinting, but couldn't stop her from choosing this clearly reputable establishment to get it done:

To be fair, that wasn't actually the place that did the tinting, but it was next door.  And I did spend the entire time we were there with an uneasy feeling that I was going to turn around at any moment and come face to face with that terrifying chicken beast.  I did occasionally lose myself in the stories that the tinting technician was telling us though, including all about how he takes his pick up truck all around south florida to pick up "death cars".  I guess when people kill themselves by turning the car on in the garage with the doors closed they will often resell the car because it's still in perfect condition.  They only have to put it was a death car on the carfax if the person shot themselves and the technicians had to repair a bullet hole  or clean blood out of upholstery or something.  I was fascinated.

Anyways, because of Heather's tomfoolery I didn't get to do a lot of the things I had planned for yesterday, including a blog post.  Not a good way to start out March, I know.  I figured I would be able to do a post last night but I didn't plan on Heather challenging me to the longest game of Scrabble ever.  I should have expected it after the first play though.  It took about a half an hour for her to come up with this award winner:

Then about halfway through the game she goes, "omg, I don't even want to play this word because I don't like it, I don't even feel comfortable saying it!!"

And yet it didn't stop her from playing it, and one space away from porn.  That's when I came up with the name for her memoirs, From Porn to Pussy; The Heather B. Story.

She'll sell millions!

I did get all my laundry done yesterday, and though I didn't manage to do any exercise I also didn't drink yesterday so at least I'll be able to go on an extra long run today.

Just have to catch up on some blog posts first.