One of the last memories I have of Baton Rouge was going into the Street Pub. I walked down Chimes Street one last time because I hung out there long after everyone had decided that it sucked and moved on. So I was in the Street Pub and I asked the bartender if I looked familiar. She smiled and pointed to a piece of paper taped on the metal refrigerator. It was my name and number and some sort of lame come-on. She told me she'd saved it for a year, and although her and few other people felt like calling, she decided it was probably a bad idea. I felt dopey and asked for water with lime. Life is funny.

The H-E-B called, beckoned me to return and I answered the call in the sum of $102.63. I don't want to shop for the rest of the month and most of it was able to go into the freezer. Unripe vegetables were purchased for later consumption. Canned goods stock the shelves. Now, if I get one of those vacuum sealing machines, I can conquer the world of the problem of spoiling food. And NO, I'm not going to end up sealing slices of pizza with bites taken out of them or extra french fries. I'm not that ghetto.

The cat eats the lining of her cat bed. Sometimes this makes her cough like a 65 year old smoker. Sometimes, like today, she stuck her head over the side of the bed and ralphed. And inside the bed too. There goes that sleeping arrangement. Her bed was on the edge of my bed and my favorite blanket was violated. And because her bed smells, she doesn't want to nap in it anymore. I should've just left well alone.

It's 42 degrees in the morning and I refuse to complain. In a few weeks, it'll be hotter than any of heat anyone will have where they reside. And I'll be wearing a shirt and tie. Hopefully.

Now everybody try and watch 'The Bernie Mac Show' tonight, even if you don't understand black culture or African-American comedy.