Meet Milo

I have some good news. There has been a new addition to the Doll House. His name is Milo and he is 8 weeks old. He is a light orange and white tabby cat and we adopted him on Sunday from the Toledo Humane Society. He lays like this while I play Insanaquarium on my laptop. Unfortunately, Milo has his days and nights mixed up, preventing him from sleeping through the night. At about three am last night I was one night gown and a pair of spectacles away from driving him to the nearest Chinese takeout place and throwing him in the fryer. Okay that was a little bit uncalled for. I've been slightly sleep deprived lately due to a combination of my little feline friend and a snoring boy who I let sleep in my bed (No offense, Anthony and Milo). For the record, I am very weird about letting guys sleep in my bed and it rarely ever happens. There has been one particular person I have never minded sleeping the night with but for some reason with any other unit of the male species it just doesn't quite work. I toss and turn all night and then eventually give up and sleep somewhere else. Throw some loud snoring six inches away from my face and a kitten curled up and purring on my neck and those are all the makings of REM-less night of sleep for Caroline (Again, no offense Anthony and Milo).

This week:
Monday: Court date at 9:00 Anthropology Exam at 12:30- destined failure
Tuesday: Milo's vet appointment for the recent upper respiratory he has picked up somewhere in the Doll House. My guess is that it came from the lead-based paint.
Wednesday: Just another normal class with Mr. Sears. By the way, I'm skipping that class right now to blog. Could I be any more motivated to learn A&S 250's intended "Great Ideas" as the class title suggests?
Thursday: Food & Nutrition Exam over the first three units and over 200 pages of the text that I have neglected to skim over.
Friday: Getting so incredibly inebriated that I forget about this crazy nonsense week.

To my best friend Chassidy Nicole:

"If you should die before me, ask if you can bring a friend."
- Stone Temple Pilots

I don't want to leave you hanging so I'll keep you up to date with my criminal record. I appeared in court this morning at 9:00 in my sophisticated blue dress, ready to look the law square in the eyes and show it what's up. After putting my purse on a conveyor belt and walking through a metal detector... twice since I set it off the first time and made a loud scene in a very quiet, echoing court house, I was told to sit and wait for my lawyer and greet him when I noticed his presence. This would not be a problem had I not met him about a month ago. I sat on a very uncomfortable bench ignoring blatant stares from fellow awaiting criminals and eyed down every lawyer-looking male in the room trying to remember what in the hell Mr. Mike Skullini looked like when I met him in his office in early September. Finally... a familiar face. I stood up to greet him and he shook my hand with a very "I have no idea who you are" look on his face. This alarmed me a little bit seeing as I wasn't crystal clear on what this guy looked like in the first place. He then lead me to a room with a tiny sign on the door titled "Legal Consultation." We sat down and he read the humiliating police report to me. I gave him sort of a half "yeah fuck my life" smile after he was done reading it and waited to hear what else he advised. He told me how the proceeding was going to go and that the judge was not going to say anything to me or ask me any other questions except for how I decided to plea. We then met the judge in a court room. He was a hunch-backed little man with bad hair and bug eyes. He asked me what I wanted to plea and I replied with "No contest" to the underage possession. He informed me that I have a right to a trial but that it was not advisable since the BG police had a natural light can in their "evidence" locker with my "name" all over it. Here's where I got a little confused. I wanted to say: Excuse me, your honor, but I don't really remember writing my John Hancock on my beer can on the way over to my neighbors for beer pong. I don't remember submitting to any DNA tests, so how in the hell do you even know that the can is mine? Well, needless to say... I decided against this decision. He dismissed me off to the prosecution office where I met with my probation officer. Yes...I...Caroline Bass have a probation officer. I left the courthouse with an underage possession charge, a business card with my probation officers name and phone number, and a debit to my bank account of $450. Could have been worse. I could be in a jail cell wearing an orange jumpsuit and eating saltines and water right now, but instead I'm making the responsible life choice to skip A&S and add to my best friend and I's blog.

Welcome Milo, and new Ruch family kitten.
Come home, Lola & Mischa.