But I digress: the picture here is something That Person apparently paid good money for. Let me tell you, I was terrified. It sits there chuckling at me, and again, no scent. How much of this world is made up of totally fake stuff? I am so depressed I can hardly bring myself to poop out there anymore. That Person gets all bent out when I take forever in the morning before she's had that beverage. Then she starts going on and on about how when she has to go she just goes and how she doesn't need to eat a pound of cedar chips first (all this is taking place inside her head--but I can hear it). Speaking of those wood chips, I don't really eat all that much. Sometimes I get to gagging and hurking about in the kitchen so she thinks it's all my fault. I think it's that same old food she gives me everyday, except sometimes when there's cottage cheese.
Well, thanks for listening. She's all engrossed in Wallender. She likes the way it was filmed (I wouldn't know about that) and how great the soundtrack is (not a bad soundtrack: reminds a bit of Philip Glass my favorite) and how Kenneth Branagh is all that.