Jackson is a horrible bastard. Sussing out my sticky death traps. Jackson is more ellusive than road runner. Flattening out his smelly little maleable body through a crack in my floor.

Aha! Hark now, for I have finally given light to this ignoble crack. It shall be filled with all manner of unchewy steel wool and soakable material laden with peppermint oil. All Jacksons are driven ridiculous retarded mad at the whiff of peppermint oil. Death to Jackson!

In healthier news, I am number fifteen on Google for "'Greasy Dick' Beer". Goes well with Muddy Twat Chips. Damn, I think I almost am required now to make Greasy Dick Beer in my bathtub for distribution as soon as possible.

The recovery from the pelican flu I acquired has been lackluster. My chest seizes and jab punches with every breath. My heart feels like it's wrapped in cellophane. Difficulties sending oxygen to critical areas of my brain. Iris focusing takes effort. Chilly frost of fevered sweat trickling down my back. Snot rockets launching every thirteen minutes. Looking crazy sexy of course. What with my Wednesday Addams plague pallor, sunken shadow eyes and dirty hospital odor. But, I am listening to NWA's Straight Outta Compton. Which I figure will cure anything.

Refused to sweat and stink on my couch for one more day. Parameciums clogging my immune system can suck the pucker. Cranked the stereo to drown out my weasel upstairs neighbor's singing lessons. Raked my skin with boiling shower. Seperated out the dingy clothes, whites, darks and lights. Wrangled up the recycling and trash. Headed out with three bags, dropped two off at the curb, the other at the cleaners. Hustled over to the federally holiday closed bank, slipped the ugly teller my guvment check. Ate a Sicilian and a regular slice at Nino's. Nummy nummy. Purchased non-comedogenic bar of soap, 'Tussin, green tea throat drops, and some two ply asswipe. Winked at the Ukrainian hottie behind the register. Wild spaghetti walked over ice slicked sidewalks. Reached homeward bound exhausted.

Damnable sick. Below freezing out. Hasn't risen above freezing for a couple weeks now here in sweet sweet Manhattan. Clothes soaked through with perspiration. I blame Jackson for this sick. Jackson's testicles should fry and explode.

The gunk needs to leave the skull. An adorable female has returned from her trip in Spain. We've had a few casual hookups. Left a note in my pocket with her cell number to call her after after her arrival back into Gotham. Snot stalactites dangling from my whiskers would not be the ticket for impressing her. I can tell we both like each other in the like, like sense. Sire spanky might be in danger of falling into a relationship. Holy jumpin jesus jack rabbit.