  well i would be at my dads, most likely doing something productive and enriching, but i am not. i am at my neighbors' house, wrapped in my neighbors' towel, eating my neighbors' string cheese, on my neighbors' computer.
GAWD I LOVE HOUSESITTING! ((that's 'god' spelled with 'awd' as to indicate that it's not actually any religious deity, but rather an irremovable part of southern vocabulary)) living at someone else's house, especially someone with a pool, satellite, and an entire fridge full of coke in the garage, is the best thing ever, which is why i've decided to stay here in shreveport another week, until these folks come back from florida. it's positively wonderful staying here with just my mom and devon, without the toxic addition of mammaw, the chemical X in our salacious brew of a family. when i think of myself, i never think of the fact that i'm a southerner. i don't have an accent, or a close relationship with any of my counsins, just the misfortune of living here in this swampy hellhole. i am by no means genteel, like miss urlLink PAULA DEEN , or then perhaps i would enjoy this fried chicken back porch hillbilly life style.
i'm not fit for the south... i'm blonde haired, blue eyed, fair skinned, and prefer the cold. urlLink TROY finally got the code i made him. go look at him now that he's one of the beautiful blogger people. in case you were wondering, that poem that i posted before this was inspired by my mother's toast. 
