Shameful Confession #437

I love Laurel Burch.

I mean, I know it’s kitsch. Certainly it’s repetitive. Occasionally downright garish. I don’t care. I think it’s a childhood thing–as a pre-teen, I had a coupla Laurel Burch sweatshirts that I wore until they disintegrated and several mugs that I used until they…actually, I dunno what happened to those mugs. But anyway, brightly colored cats with bizarre noses and spiralled tails still have the power to make me feel warm and fuzzy, which is kinda odd, when you stop and think that pre-teen-dom is generally a time of misery, awkward social relations, and pent-up pre-sexual frustrations. Nevertheless, I love it.

Having discovered that there is an entire segment of e-bay devoted to this, I’m going to slouch around drooling now.

Back still agony. Took Vicodin yesterady. Still in agony, but much more good natured about it. May do so again today–if you’re gonna be in pain and unproductive, might as well be giggly.

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