...for Vladimir and Norman Rat, who are sick in the hospital with pneumonia. I can't fucking believe it. Rats get pneumonia? What's next, hair extensions?

For those of you on the edge of your seats, wondering what happened when I asked Taylor to put his shoes on, well...he did. And the smell is somewhat lessened. But now he's discovered that I'm writing (sort of) a blog, and is very interested. He says that he wishes to know "how I present myself to the world" or something sneaky like that. I told him that if W can't read it, he can't either.

But I am not so naive as to think that Taylor and W are alike in this respect. While W will pout and cajole (he's so adorable when in-pout), Taylor will just snoop. That's why W hides his files on this communal computer. He knows that Taylor will snoop. He suspects that I will snoop too. He is right on both accounts. A wise man.

I know that W himself is much too proud to snoop around my things, but I just can't give him unlimited access to my personal computer. It isn't that I don't trust him--well, I should say that I don't mistrust him in particular. I do believe that he has a very firm moral committment against (and sincere lack of interest in) spying on me. But hey, I feel that way too! And I still spy on him. It's just what you do, isn't it? Just sort of look around at stuff, see what's there. Is that so wrong? Does ANYBODY not engage in that sort of activity?

(Notice how I raised this "to the level of the universal." Well done, eh? Writing 323 is finally paying off. And I feel much less sneaky/guilty.)

Really a trip down snoop-lane on my laptop wouldn't be particularly interesting. A bunch of depressed poems and pictures of Roy Dupuis and friends (...my friends, haha I am LAME). Various papers for various classes since highschool. Music that I am not permitted to play on the apartment stereo because everybody else hates it (hellooooo ScissorSisters!).

But...but...

What if he saw the naked pics? The ones with my dad's bird? I mean, I know that he sees me naked all the time, but that bird...