On one side, we have Lulu: As twitchy as a meth addict. Has a fondness for hiding under beds. Only feels safe when she has something to chew with her at all times.

On the other side, Zoe: Immorally hedonistic. Despite her small size, sincerely believes she strikes terror in the heart of every pit bull in the neighborhood. Purrs like a cat when stroked.

Lulu: Oh. My. GOD. The end is NIGH. Bad things. About to happen. ANY MINUTE! You see those people out there? Yeah, those people RIGHT THERE. Any one of them could turn out to be a ZOMBIE. And do you know what zombies do? They SUCK brains. Seriously scary situation happening right here, right now. I am FREAKING out.
Zoe: When I sit here and blink my eyes, I look like a character in a Disney movie. Can’t you picture a little cartoon butterfly fluttering by my head?
Lulu: What was that noise? What? Where? Did you hear that? Because I think I hear something! WHAT WAS THAT??? ZOMBIES!!!!
Zoe: I’m so pretty. I look especially fetching, when I hold up one paw just like this.
Lulu: There is a DOG walking by our HOUSE! A DOG! WALKING!!!! Is NO ONE paying attention? I know he’s on a leash, but he could break free any minute, man, and he could step on our lawn, and the SHIT could start going down, just like THAT. And that guy walking him? Zombie. I swear to GOD. I know, I’ve sounded this alarm before, but I’m about ninety to ninety-five percent sure that guy is a brain-sucking zombie walking a freaky zombie dog!!!
Zoe: When I roll on my back, and stick all of my paws up in the air, my belly is open for rubbing. Mmmm. Just like that. Rub higher. Lower. Higher. Lower. Up a little. Keep going.
Lulu: The UPS man is here! THE UPS MAN!!! IS!!! HERE!!! TAKE COVER!!! This is it!! THIS COULD BE THE END!!! HE’S NOT TAKING ME ALIVE!!!! AHHHH!!!!!!
Zoe: Did I say you could stop rubbing my belly? No? Then what exactly do you think you’re doing? Rub now, or risk losing a nose. God, the service in this place sucks. And can you please shut that weird twitchy dog up in her crate? It’s hard finding my Zen place without having to listen to Twitchel’s yapping. And you people call this place a spa?

I’m on Facebook! Check me out!

(Warning: for some reason my headshot is really large on the Facebook page. Really, really large. Freakishly large. You have been warned.)

How is it that I’ve been missing out on the wonder that is Facebook? Why haven’t any of you ever told me about it?

I’ve spent several exciting days looking up everyone I’ve ever known, and finding out all sorts of fun things about them. For example, one of my friends from middle school is now a comedian on Saturday Night Live! How freaking cool is that?

Nick Hornby says that ninety percent of being a successful writer is staying off the Internet. I’m clearly doomed.

A woman I’ve only just met looks around the room and sighs.

Me: What’s wrong?
Her: I think I’m the only woman at this party who doesn’t have breast implants. In fact, I think I’m the only woman in this town who doesn’t have implants.
Me: I don’t have breast implants.
Her: stares hard at my chest
Me: I’m wearing a Wonder Bra!
Her: You are? Oh, well, that’s okay then. Have you ever wondered what aliens would think if they came to earth and saw all of these weird humans walking around with breast implants? They’d be, like, what is up with that? Don’t you think? Haven’t you ever wondered about that?
Me: Um . . . no.
Her: Well, I have. Peers into her empty wine glass. I need another drink.