Felicity and The Practice, if you must know. Fred thinks I have the hots for DA Richard Bay. If he only knew…) and now it’s 4:00 and I have to go start dinner (country chicken gumbo) and by the time dinner is made and eaten and I’m done laying around discussing Fred’s day with him, it will be time for Boston Public and Ally McBeal, and then there will be canoodling with the man, and perhaps some sex (though perhaps not), and then it will be bedtime. So you see, I haven’t got time for the entry tonight. That’s right, send me disappointed, nasty emails, I welcome them and adore every heated word your pissed-off selves send me, but know this: There will be an entry tomorrow, bright and early, oh yes. Trust me on this, dear readers, I will tell you all about how Fred’s proximity to running water gets his hormones a-hoppin’ (oh, I guess I just told you about that, didn’t I?), and how I never want to share a bed with him ever again in my entire life, and all sorts of good things. There will be pictures (though not a lot), and above all else, there will be bitching. Bitching and whining and moaning. In fact, my new motto is going to be "Bitch, whine, moan. Lather, rinse, repeat." See you then!