Bittersweet holiday

We said goodbye to Mr. George Cat yesterday morning. George (or "Gorge" as he was known due to his insatiable Meow Mix jones) was a buddy, therapist and surrogate baby rolled into one delectably soft package. To give you an idea of how incredibly charismatic and loveable this cat was, tears stood in the vet's eyes. G-Baby was really human, in a good way.

Enough already. No more dying animals. Two in three months is a bit extreme.

I hope everyone has a lovely weekend, regardless of religious significance or lack thereof. Personally, I've had my fill of the red-green aesthetic and am ready for the Hallmark circus to leave town. However, I'm looking forward to tomorrow--Christmas, in this household--which is possibly the only day of the season when Baby Jesus might actually crush the spectre of commercialism with His dear dimpled fist. Yeah, I know, I'm Linus.

And since I know many of you are extremely kind and might be compelled to extend your condolences about Georgie, I have to regrettably announce that the Hotmail link on this blog is no longer valid. My account runneth over and I have some serious cybercleaning to do thanks to overwhelming response to some of my City Pages crap. So, yeah. No email right now, but sweet vibes are appreciated. (Also, if you've emailed me and haven't heard back, I apologize profusely. I'm no Dane Cook.)

In good news, Jonny shocked me with a sparkly new wedding band to replace the cubic zirconia that I've been secretly rockin' since the Broke Era. (For a showy Italian like me, fake bling was better than no bling at all.) But now I have the real deal. I keep thrusting it under Jonny's nose and yelling "Platinum!" like I'm Will Smith or something. I still believe that the sentiment behind a ring is more important than its carat weight, but it feels nice to be iced. Thanks, Jonny! I got a Lindsay Lohan doll too, which I intend to slowly undress later on.

Off to chew my nails, get drunk, etc. Yo ho ho and a big-ass bottle of Sailor Jerry rum!

P.S. For those who are keeping track, I have only one living pet now. Guess who? Hint: it sucks.