Morphology.

According to The One Called K-Raw (www.youcommamyhouse.blogspot.com), this is what T.O.C.E. would look like if supernatural forces turned her into a cat. I don't know if she's right, but I do know that if I had to share a basement apartment with a fellow felis with such a sunnily-cut gib, I'd puke every day and be filled with hatred from dawn to dusk. Which is pretty much what I do every day anyway. K-Raw sounds like a cool human, though. Full of rage. She made T.O.C.E. a The One Called Hasselhoff-themed card for her birthday.

Speaking of, T.O.C.E.'s birthday came and went without an apocalypse. She seems very thankful, an emotion I know little about. There was a large meal at that place that serves elk meat, featuring The One Called Esposito, The One Called Casey (who took a flying leap into the streets of Iowa City and now has an omlet-sized egg on her knee), and The One Called The Bouvier, whose cleavage was in full effect. It has been many months since I saw T.O.C.E. wake up as schlumpy as she was today, after her night of b'day boozing.I gave her a full day without any athsma attacks; the Other One gave her a very small box with something in it that T.O.C.E. liked so much, she took the box and began beating him with it. But in a good way. Also decorative soaps that smell like nice things.

Bleech. That cat's smile is making me nauseous.