I do have a problem with pre-teens. Esp. the girls who dress as miniature bimbos and think they're so grown-up and talk about boys and make-up loudly in their cell phone when they should be playing with dolls. People find them charming & cute & marvel at how intelligent & mature they are, even though they can't spell & know far too much about Britney & Paris for their own good.

Yes, I hate them. Those bitches always try to snatch from me the last cool t-shirt on sale.

A couple of days ago, I was walking Abba and this horrid little creature comes up to me, dressed as a cheap hooker with a bare midriff despite the chilly weather (Tibiloo would wisely tell her that it's the best way to catch a gastric flu of some kind). She points at Abba and, oozing obnoxiousness from every pore, asks : "is it a pure breed ?"

Since I have no interest in talking with Britney Hilton from Hookersville, I shrug. She insists, because those little brats are used to people doing things their way. So I look down at her with my bored-est look and say "what about you ? Are you a pure breed ?" and walk away.

Pissed off she was, but I couldn't care less. If she'd said something like "oh, what a cute doggy ! " and then asked "is it a pure breed ?", I might have made an effort, but I've got no patience for brats with money on the brain.

Blythou out.

For her birthday (she's 5 month-old today), Abba's behaved like a grown-up chihuahua girl.

She's had a brand new blue camouflage leash as a gift. And she's taken her bath without flinching ! Now she's dried and she's all wrapped up in a warm towel, sleeping on my lap.

I've told her her mommy thinks of her and read her Tibi's LJ birthday entry (Abba's too young to read). I'm going to miss that little girl when she goes back to Zurich, but we'll have shared special moments !

Blythou out.