A couple of days after The Hellcat left town, I set about cleaning the kitchen. I mean, really cleaning. Inside the microwave. Refridgerator shelves. I took every appliance off the counters and cleaned them. And I cleaned the counters. I emptied the garbage cans and cleaned the garbage lids. I EazyOff'd the inside of the oven and cleaned all the grease off the side. I swept and mopped the floors. The kitchen shined like the top of the Chrysler building. It made me completely relaxed and beyond that, content. A half a year of therapy has revealed that my need to clean and organize and the feeling of contentment I get from it is rooted in my childhood, but that's another story. I'm not even going to complain (again) about how the other people I live with are pretty filthy guys, especially for gay guys.
Of course, a day or so later, while enjoying the Iron Chef in Battle Giant Mushroom I discover we have mice. Again. They're coming from under The Hellcat's door. Wonderful.
Off topic: I don't care what the other fags are saying, I really like Johnny Weir.
Finally! One that made me laugh. Star Wars: The Empire Brokeback - via Naked City Boys (I still haven't seen the actual movie. I'm stubborn like that.)