Snow and Ray La Montagne? Squeee!
Hurrah, we have snow! The cats are befuddled, especially the Marklar, the little one eyed dweeb.
Saw Ray La Montagne last night, how can such a teeny tiny man have such a voice? The paramour sold his extra ticket at face value to two delighted charming girls, after poo pooing a tout's ridiculous offer to buy it for less than half its worth, then the tout tried to flog tickets to the girls. Pah, foolish touts! Then more touts came and we fled before they touted us to smithereens. The concert was magical, then we had kebabs, which were utterly disgusting and utterly delicious at the same time and now we have snow.
Gee, some days are just too freaking excellent for words.
Labels: Happiness is a woman called Cat.