Jimi Hendrix and Me
1/24/2

I�m, like, besieged by fabric softener. My shirt is like a sheet of mercury and my jeans feel like they�re made of warm butter. Too soft, I tell you, too soft.

I�m afraid if I exert myself in any way I�ll burst into flames.

It�s raining really heavy now.

Kiddo, the next door neighbor cat, is out in this.

I had breakfast burritos for breakfast. I�m listening to my mini-cd of Five for Fighting, Gorillaz, and Remy Zero. It has 51 songs total on it in MP3 format.

What I really like about the mini-cd format is that when in their little frosted plastic envelope they are the size, width wise, of a business card. I have four or five sheets of business card holders in my organizer. So, finally, the sheets have a function.

The other day, when I was driving back from the lab we contract with in Decatur, I was looking at the river as I was driving over it. Even on cold days, I bet it�s pretty cool to be a fish. Heck, it�s be a great vacation, to be a fish for a week. I wouldn�t want to be any lame fish like a catfish, or some over sporty show off fish, like a gar, just let me be a carp.

Floaty float. I�m the foatin� fish. Aah, that�s the life.

The problem with me being a fish is that I�d be peeking at what�s above the water all the time.

�Mommy, mommy. That fish is staring at me.�

Bonus points will be awarded to people who understand the title.