I just watched the movie based on my baby-daddy's life. It's pretty awesome. Cheri, you still wanna go to college? We could probably afford it, even with the baby. I got the girls from my acquisitions department to keep me company.

Alex, you and me are going to New Orleans tonight, and you're going to get slobbering drunk so I can get drunk by association. And I'm going to flash my even more awesome tits, and it will be unbelievable

I got us hotel rooms and everything. We're staying until next wednesday, so we don't have to rush our partying.

(This voice post is made by someone who is audibly upset, and speaks very broken English. The portions in italics are translated from Creole for the mun's benefit, but are still spoken in that language, so non-French/Cajun pups won't understand half of this)

. . .Damn thing t' work. Jesus Christ why are you being. . . oh. Okay. Um, hello, I think I'm lost. This thing is not at all helpful. Stupid technology. What's wrong with a real telephone? I'm lookin' f'r a man named Alex Rogan. We were separated, 'n' I need him back. Doan got no money t' offer as a reward, but I got a whole ocean o' gratitude available.

If anyone is seeking employment, I happen to own a niteclub in Miami [address]. There's a few positions open for bartenders, custodians, or security. And it pays very well. All interested parties are free to contact me if they feel this is the work for them. Interviews can be conducted at your convenience.

Think I'm going to the SPCA to get a cat. Well, maybe not a cat. They're clever, but I'm kind of sick of clever. Maybe a dog. I could use a good dose of boundless loyalty.

Maybe a fish. It doesn't matter if they die, you can get another just like 'em.

So, I think I'm actually doing okay now.

Still get kinda lonely, but there's not much I can do about it, honestly.

At least I got a job that's not half bad, and a place to sleep at night.

So, new job's not bad. Busy, but not bad.

New place is pretty nice too.

But, go figure, I miss being around people I know.

Anyone want to know me?

I'm in the oddest mood. The urge to watch soap operas is infecting the whole house, and we've got bets riding on it.

I think I won a pair of panties earlier.

If so, I'm going to sell them on the internet. Anyone want a pair of panties that have been worn (washing optional), by one of the prettiest working ladies in Nevada?

Wha?

Oh I see. A system dat transports de wicked thief 'way from de goods and to where you can deal wit' him you'self.

Ooh, will dere be handcuffs, cher?

You know, Ah might roll my eyes at everything being deepfried down here, but the fact that the little bistro down the road is working on frying whole large birds has me baffled and in wonder. Is a meal really worth risking a grease fireball? Does this Thanksgiving holiday really merit a threat on your life?

EDIT: As they say at work, holy shit is this good. Bring on the third degree burns.

Holy shit, I have a whorehouse!

In Nevada, where things are nice and legal.

But. . . I run a whorehouse.

Dad is probably looking up at me and wondering where his precious little flower went.

Anyone want to help me celebrate my new life of vice and sin?

What the fuck is going on, and who do I have to kill to get a whiskey and a cigarette?

Current Mood: pissed off

Well, this is a right fine mess. Plucked out of Britain and dropped into Malibu, and not even in ther right universe. I wonder who I pissed off this time.