Yesterday night I bought a plant. He is an irish shamrock plant, and his name is Andrew. I named him after the check out guy. Andrew the check out guy was very honoured to lend me his name. Until he learned that every plant that's fallen into my hands has died tragic deaths, starting with my first plant, Spike the cactus. Yes, you CAN kill cactus'. I guess I didn't water mine. Ever. However, I have high hopes for Andrew.

So Ryan (A.K.A. The Boy) is on strike. I somehow convinced him to come here to visit.

Me: Come see me!

Him: I can't afford it, hun.

Me: Yes you can. Sell you computer. Pimp yourself out. Pimp your roomate out. Just do it.

Him: (whining) But it's a 24 hour bus trip!

Me: I hate you.

Him: That's not very nice.

Me: I need a hug. And if you don't come, I'm going to name our first born Migurgitroid.

Him: What? Wait a second here...

Me: I'm your only chance at babies.

Him: WHAT? Ok! Ok, I'll come!

Talking about babies gets him everytime. Because, as much as he wants them, he gets freaked out to hell if I say I do, too. Well, probably since that time at the pizza restaurant...

Him: (concerned) What's wrong? You look sad.

Me: (twitching) My internal timeclock is ticking!

Him: What?

Me: (screams) I WANT BABIES! *shakes fists in air madly*

Chaos ensues, where an elderly man roars with laughter, claps Ryan on the back, and says, "You make some babies, son! That's what I'd like to be doing!"

Spasmodic baby cravings. What's with them?