09.20.05

*hork* *hork* *hork*
*hork* *hork* *hork*
*hork* *hork* *hork*

Ah, the music of KaliHellKitty in the morning. The magic as she attempts to channel something eldritch and Cthulian through her tiny body.

*hork* *hork* *hork*
*hork* *hork* *hork*
*hork* *hork* *hork*

Maybe it's my old hiking boots. Maybe it's BatBoy. Maybe it's...no...that'd be too horrible to contemplate...maybe it's Che's hands.

*cue dramatic music and...pause*

Oh gag. I lurve waking up to cat puke. *sigh* And Boy George on the radio. I swan, it don't get no better than this, my darlings.

I ended the day with a misplaced New Yorker contingent. Oy, they were going meshuganeh with the this and the that. Ach. Once I realized the communication problem and adjusted my delivery, they were as sweet as egg creme. I was saucy as a Rockette and darlin', Delancey Street had nuttin' on me. Thank goodness I speak fairly fluent "youse guys." *grin* A lot of it is body language with the arms and the eyebrows and the achh-ing and the pshaw-ing. Oh yeah, I got it.

*laugh*

Go. Be fabulous.

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