"You are hungry," my brain told me as I watched the latest episode of 10 Things I Hate About You. "You want to get a snack."
I sat up suddenly. "I am hungry," I said aloud. My cat looked at me strangely, probably wondering who I was talking to. "I'm going to get a snack."
It was then, as I dug through the cupboard in search of some crackers, that several neurons in my head fired at once, and I remembered:
The blog.
"Oh, @#$&%!" I yelled, though this was not from the fact that I had neglected to tell Clarissa to update, but because someone had put an empty box of Cheese-Its back into the cabinent. Kitty glared at me from his bed.
Kitty does not approve of naughty language.
"I already did," was Clarissa's reply to a hastily sent email telling her she needed to update this thing. And she wasn't even lying. She had updated the blog. TEN DAYS AGO. Without telling me.
Obviously, this is completely unfair. "You were supposed to be a team," the evil part of my brain told me. "You told her when you updated, and she doesn't even bother to repay the favor? Kill her."
"That seems a little extreme," I reasoned. "I don't always tell her when I'm going to spend the night in her bathtub, and she's never complained about it. Except for that time she found out. Plus, her hair was cute today."
Dear readers, let me just take an aside from our story to give you the low-down on Claire-bear's hair:
It's fabulous.
And I'm not talking permed and colored fabulous. I'm talking, you're either born with it or you crave it forever fabulous. And let me tell you, our Claire was born with it. How does that saying go? "If you got it, flaunt it."
This, however, is exactly the opposite of what my lovely friend does. Instead, she decides to hide her luxurious curls by wearing a swim cap under a fisherman's hat under a hood at all times. Except for today, when she freed her amazing natural curls, making Sarah Jessica Parker weep with envy.

Go cry.
Obviously, I could not execute someone with hair like hers.
Luckily, this was about the time that my good friend Francisco called, saving me from the dilemma.
"We're going to buy an ice cream truck," he informed me. "We are going to paint it bright orange with black flames and drive around as it plays 'Pop Goes the Weasel.' In fact, we are going to take a road trip in it." I cheerfully agreed to this idea before I realized that if I was googling icecream truck decorations, I wouldn't have time to yell at Claire for whatever I had been angry about before I'd been distracted by the idea of an icecream road trip.
But hey, at least I found this cool bumpersticker:
**BLOG UPDATE**: I just read the above entry and realized I need serious help. That is all.
~Lily