New Friends.

Ok first of all, here's the story about the Tom Cruise thing, aside from being a complete loon bag (What the heck is a loon bag?!): the speedboat was part of a day-long action-packed publicity tour of Manhattan. This tour involved the following: travel by helicopter into lower Manhattan. Taking a speedboat trip up to Harlem. Commandeering a subway (yes, a private subway) into midtown. Who's his travel agent? I want in.

Anyway. Before I'm accused of obsessing over a no-talent freakshow for no apparent reason other than to make myself feel better while I stew in my own self-imposed mediocrity, I would like to point out one minor issue I have with this plan of his. This was a publicity tour, right? He did the dramatic helicopter arrival thing. Lots of people saw it. He did the secret-agent very public speedboat thing. Lots of people saw it. He zoomed across town in a very hot sports car. Lots of people saw it. And then, what? He dives underground and takes a private 2/3 train? What the hell kind of publicity is this supposed to be? "I'm so hot I can take a private subway ride?" This pisses me off so much that I'm not going to see his movie. (Ok, so I probably wasn't going anyway.. whatevs.)

So I made a new friend. His name is Baxter. He lives in my walls, between my closet and my bedroom. He's really cute, I think. He scratches at the latticework in the wee hours (like, NOW). But as long as he keeps the hell away from the shoes, I don't mind having him around at all. Sweet, cute little Baxter. Hopefully he won't die in there and stink up the joint.