Rizzo

I've started my job and all is well in the little town of Manhattan. My friends JenStar and Marshall (Monkey Pants, thank you very much.) are here. It was really wonderful to see them last night. I'm getting sort of home sick. My friends are having babies (yay Royal! Welcome to the world!) and having parties (prom/critical massive) and I'm just not there. It's so bizarre because when I was getting ready to leave Seattle JenStar would say to me, "Why arn't you gone yet?!", "Jesus! Just go! How long are you going to draw this out??" When we met in Soho yesterday, the first thing she said was, "when are you moving back?", "When are you coming home?". So it seems that the move wasn't real for a while and I wasn't the only one who felt that way.
There's a cat at 288 (bar in Nolita that our friends own) named Rizzo. She lives at the bar and spends her time doing one of three things:
1. Sleeping in a cardboard box
2. Drinking water out of her shot glass on the bar
3. Climbing into people's purses and bags and then falling asleep

I like her. I'm horribly allergic to her. She's like a little fuzzy bendy cow. I sincerely believe that she's the first cat I've ever met who liked me. I'm a dog person and cats know it. Cats are mean. Cats are snotty. Cats reject me. They look at me like I"m in seventh grade and they are Brianne Gordan. So you see, it's a big deal that Rizzo and I are in sweet love. She's my summer romance. There are only beautiful women and ugly guys in NYC. I swear. Should you find a good lookin guy there are 500 rich and beautiful girls in line to compete with you. The ugly fat guy with pretty girl ratio is really high around this place. I've included a picture of my new girlfriend. She makes my eyes swell up and my skin break out but I love her!