I got 30 minutes. I already fell asleep in this chair 15 minutes ago - woke my tired ass up and spent another 10 minutes or so staring at (through) my computer monitor. I gotta get some sleep. 6:00AM comes really early … much to my surprise. Seriously, I’m use to falling asleep by 6:00AM - not waking up by that time. Even more strange (stranger than CeCe waking up before 10:00AM) is the fact that I haven’t set my alarm clock once since school started. Ok - so it’s only been 2 days - but still! Me waking up before 10:00AM with out an alarm clock? That’s like a miracle, really. Maybe not making a blind man see miracle - but definitely water into wine type miracle!

Jackson sleeps with me - well at the foot of my bed in his “crate” like a good puppy should - and I bolt out of bed around 6:30AM so that he can pee. When I open up the crate and hold out my arms he walks into them … all drowsy and sweet like. Then he starts to whine. I imagine he’s telling me how full his little puppy bladder is because as soon as I put him down on his puppy pad he unleashes what can only be described as a small pond. I always just stare in amazement - not because I’m into the whole toilet type thing - but more because I’m wondering how the hell my little son managed to hold it that long and never complain to me about it. Of course I always express my delight in his toileting - and I often laugh at myself for doing it. yeah - I’m still somewhat impressed with how quickly I’ve joined yet another club.

Remember - there was the MAC club of which I am still a member. So much a member that my desk top computer which is a DELL sits and looks at me like - “um - could you finger me now and then just for old times sake, bitch?” Now that my MAC club status is in full bloom (I’m already trying to plan for a IMAC desk top…maybe I’ll be lucky enough to get one for next year…) I’ve entered another club: Pet Owner Club. Like the Club O MAC - Pet Owner Club sort of snuck up on me. I started going to PetSmart every Saturday and this was before Jackson even arrived on the scene. I kinda looked in on the other owners and followed a few of them around the store, touching things they touched and listening in on conversations they held with PetSmart employees on best trainers, best doggy biscuits, best kitty litter and best brand of food. I also bought several things PRE Jackson because of course I had a list of items. This is what I kept telling myself - and after the 4th trip to PetSmart in the past month I suddenly realized what had happened. Actually, one of the employees asked me if I needed any assistance - and when I smiled and said “no” she replied, “Oh - you’re just doing your regular Saturday Shop day…” as if to insinuate that I did this, well, every Saturday or something. I actually blushed and nodded - and went to buy some chew toys. The 5 billion that Jackson currently owns is not quite enough. Plus he needs one for his overnight bag… In case he stays over night at someone’s house and needs something to chew on. What? It’s necessary.

Just one more thing about PetSmart because I realize that part of being in the PetSmart/Pet Owner club is that no one really is as interested about trips to PetSmart (or any pet store) as you are. Their eyes start to glaze over and they begin to yawn when you tell them some cute story about some cute thing your cute dog did - and they literally begin to bob their head when you talk to them about the toys and outfits (yes, I said outfits!) you found for your pet/son during one particular great shopping trip. Humor me. So the “one more thing” about this club - is that people at PetSmart are really crazy. Honestly. Especially the older ladies that own cats. This one lady struck up a conversation with a rather attractive black man at Petco - and when she saw his white wife and their gorgeous human children (I did have to specify - because they could have fur children as many people at PetSmart call their pets) she remarked really loudly, “Are you sure those are your kids? Oh - they’re your kids for another year or two until the tests come back, right?” I just stared at her. She had never met these people in her life! I must have gasped or drawn attention to myself in some other way because her attentions suddenly were on me and she started to tell me all about her much younger boyfriend (she was dating her best friend’s son…. um…. call opportunity?!) and then told me all about her cats and how she kept young and (her words - not mine!) freaky. As I walked out of the store I met up with her again - and she hugged the huge statue of the Dinosaur or whatever that thing is in the entry of the store - chatting the whole time about how she was tired of nursing old men and now she had a young man to nurse her. I realized as I left that this was the new club I had entered. The club of cleaning up poop from your animal and thinking nothing of it, kissing your dog after you know he’s been chewing on his paw that walked thru the poop before you cleaned it up and thinking nothing of it, dressing your dog up in clothes and taking pictures of it because you feel it’s cute, showing people on your families cell phones the picture of your “kid” and thinking it’s absolutely normal to do so, striking up conversations with other pet owners because they are the only ones that now “get you” and your strange obsession with your pet, scratching off Staples (gasp), Best Buy, and even Linen and Things/Bed Bath and Beyond off your list because there aren’t enough Pet items in the store to make walking in the store even worth your while, surveying restaurants, stores, and other public places to see if you and your pet will be welcome - and I could go on because the most obvious clue that you’ve become part of this club and know the secret hand shake is the ability to go on and on and on and on and on even though you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re boring the ever living hell out of the non pet owning humans you’re speaking to.

School is a riot. My screen writing class is an absolute joy. My teacher is an accomplished (and I am laughing while saying that… 2ns knows why - I’ll tell the rest of you but only on the phone because - yeah - it’s “top secret” - *slaps knee*) screenwriter himself so he has some great tips for writing for Hollywood. I value his opinion - but I wouldn’t be CeCe if I didn’t have some issues with his teaching, right? While I appreciate his wanting his students to pitch ideas to Hollywood and write stuff that we can actually sell and blah blah blah - I am also wanting someone to give me the idealistic “write your story, CeCe - and it will sell itself” type Hollywood/FairyTale shit I’ve grown up to and basically watched my entire life. I guess you only get to write that type of stuff after you play the game for X amount of years, right? Then no one cares if you do a period piece (lol) because by then you have a ton of people ready to invest in just your name and box office brilliance? Somehow I don’t think that Mike Myers is going to come out with his life story any time soon though - even if he wanted to. He has a definite “niche” right? He’s not going to do anything different I don’t think…unless he gets a ghost writer or something, maybe. Ok - so that’s my screen writing class. My sign language class is okay - it’s just a little quiet (lol! - get it? ok - bad joke…). My teacher is funny and sweet and she will make class an absolute joy, I’m sure. My biology teacher is also female so there goes any opportunity to dress up(or down) in hopes for a good grade. I don’t know where the smart boys in class are or I’d sit next to them. I’m good at memorizing and our teacher gives a great study guide (sounds sexual but isn’t…) so I’ll be okay. The challenge is definitely going to be my Algebra class. I don’t even know how I managed to get into this class. I thought I was taking the idiots guide to mathematics class where we add and subtract big numbers and stuff. Apparently my placement exams thought I was smarter than I actually am. My teacher (and he’s a guy) said that I could try it out and see how it goes - but that that class will probably bore me to tears. We have lecture in that class for 30 minutes - and then we do “group” work. Are you kidding me? I HATE group work. Just let me get a tutor (someone who will laugh at me AFTER I leave the session, preferrably) and I’ll be on my way. I don’t know these people - and some of them are scary. Most of them seem to know what they are doing already, too - I need to be in the lower class where everyone is on an equal I’m so humiliated and I so suck at Math level. But I’ll see how things go for the next week. My teacher is kinda funny and a bit on the cute side, too. He’s also Married and talks about his daughter. It would be cute except he refers to his daughter when explaining mathematical things… like, “My daughter remembers this symbol because it looks like a crocodile opening his mouth…”. I don’t care if it is the greater than/less than sign that he is talking about. No one wants to know that a 7 year old understands Algebra symbols and such. That’s just…rude. )

Ok - it’s almost 1:00AM - I gotta go. I will write again - I have one more day of classes (after tomorrow) and I will write what I was suppose to write this time but just couldn’t do it. I won’t talk about Jackson again until … well… Saturday. Unless he does something really cute or learns to talk or something.

I promise.