He loaded up on beer, Taco Bell 3 days in a row, lamb, bread, chips and shots. He was the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Too bad he hates me again. I know he’s going to try to weasel his way over my waist band again this weekend, but I might have to get in a bathing suit, and he is the LAST person I want joining me at the pool. I wish he would die instead of Fern (I’m not even sorry I said that, Chunk! No, NO TAKE-BACKS!) .

Fern is in Intensive Care right now. He got a new wardrobe (grew out of his old one), so I’m hoping that will cheer him up and be incentive to thrive again. He’s been taking walks through the palm trees in the rainforest behind the hospital, and he’s still a little down (I think he just misses me), but he got a hair cut, so hopefully his spirits will lift.

And, well, me…I’m all alone in my little apt since Chunk and I aren’t on speaking terms. You could just feel the tension in the room. I watched Luke Perry in 8 Seconds last night. He makes a good cowboy. Except he doesn’t have enough chunk (don’t tell C I said that, he likes to gloat)…I don’t like my men to be skinnier than me. I like to feel petite, you know, because I so AM petite. Shut up. I’ll crush your skeleton with my blubber.