There are 2 sides to every story.

I woke up this morning freezin' my but off with a big ass towel on me. I guess those idiots thought that would keep me warm in this 20 degree weather. It was time to get up and those lazy people wouldn't come get me. I know they could hear me. They made me talk to myself and play with the stupid towel and my pacifiers for another 30 minutes.

Whew. Mama finally showed up, all smiles and got me out of bed, changed my diaper (it was about time) and wiped my nose for the 100th time. We went into the kitchen and I ate 2 little bite muffins. I have manipulated her into only feeding me blueberry muffins in the morning. You want to know how I did it? One day I just stopped eating the oatmeal. I wasn't going to take it anymore. Just simply gave her the hand. The next morning she showed up with blueberry muffins. Yeah you right!

She's been on the computer a lot lately in the morning after I drink some of my bottle. I think she is blogging, telling the world about our private lives, about our BM's, and our silly antics. Whatever. Mimo came in and took me to their room. I was wondering where Papa was all this time. So I hung out with them and could have cared less where Mama was. Oh-she was making breakfast for everyone, I found out when we went back to the kitchen. They tried to feed me those damn eggs again. Up goes the hand.

While Papa was washing the dishes I played with a new toy. It was more toys than I knew what to do with-all stuffed into one little box. They were clear and slippery and had a zipper at the top. Papa seemed to think it was cute. Every now and again he would say, "Ingersol, what are you doing? Come see me." He's called me this a few times since we've been here-usually when he wants me to come over to him. I thought my name was either William or Winky. I was confused for a bit. But I finally deduced that Ingersol was their old dog. Made me feel real good, let me tell ya. So anyway, Papa and I had a grand old time in the kitchen, just me and him until the trash man came around and he left to take out the trash. The trash man seemed awfully nice. He even came to the door to tell Papa he was here. In New Orleans if you forget to put out your trash, tough sh--!

Oh, here they come, gotta go!