I've been away from you, my fair minions and fans, for far too long. I've offered to house sit for the Owens while they are out of town (for $200 a week). Basically, I stay in their beautiful home in Edmond, enjoy their amazing Sony flatscreen TV, and eat their food. Oh yes, and I feed the dog. Life is rough.

I'm almost finished with training at Red Rock. It seems I'm not quite yet comfortable enough greeting tables and taking orders on my own. This (unbeknownst to my manger) translates into, "I think I'm better than you, yuppy scum, and you can go get your own fucking food from the kitchen. I have hair to fix." Tomorrow I take my 700-question certification test, meaning I'm done with training and ready to go out on my own. Tear tear.

I think I'm in love with Paris Hilton. The 21-year-old Hilton Hotel heiress is beautiful, rich, stupid and famous. Not to mention she's only 5'3", a perfect complement to my average 5'10" height. You're all invited to our wedding. Just give me a while to meet her, break up her relationship with that moronic Hilfiger model, and convince her to marry a good ol' boy from Oklahoma. If things don't pan out with her, there's always her younger (and taller) sister, Nikki. I've slept in a Hilton, now it's time to sleep with a Hillton. Ba da bum...

Those of you attached to my dear dog Bailey better pay your respects in one way or another fairly soon. Mom and dad are putting her to sleep soon.

Speaking of bitches, Marci Jacobs can suck it. Ciao, dear readers!