First, regarding the Doppelganger Project. I am delighted with the unexpectedly large and positive response. I see no reason why I can't doppelgang everyone who's asked to participate. And if you've not requested to be doppelganged yet, by all means sign my guestbook and let me know you're interested.

A word of warning. It will be a slow process. I therefore ask for your patience.

~~~~~~

Next, my heartfelt thanks goes out to Wee for the custom valentine she created for me.

Isn't it marvelous? Note the Tommy inscribed belt buckle and the jaunty fringe on my jacket, which is all the rage in midget fashion circles.

As for the kitties, the one on the left is Albert, and the one on the right is Victoria. Occasionally, I wrap my midget legs around them and ride them around the living room, goading them on with a kick from my stylish spurs. Jingley Jangley Spurs.

And though it has been some time since I have seen my face without a handlebar mustache, I imagine I look just like the dapper midget rendered so expertly here.

My warmest thanks, Wee.

~~~~~~

Finally, I feel compelled to relate an event I was just witness to at the corner pharmacy.

We're securing our dwellings here in North Jersey for what they are promising will be the closest thing to a blizzard a winter storm can be without actually earning the title. Tommy, who dwells significantly south of me, has advised me that the snowfall is already quite heavy where he lives.

The local weather broadcasters are all a twitter and are throwing terms like "crippling" and "torrential" around in an effort to insight panic and fear, which results in greater ratings and higher bonuses one would imagine. I found myself with the tickliest of sniffles and a compleate dearth of tissues and so I was forced to confront the weather in a quick walk to the pharmacy.

It is indeed cold, but as of yet there has been no snow. I grabbed a hand held shopping basket and walked around the aisles quickly as I made my selections. When I arrived at the check out counter I was privy to the following exchange.

"I gotta ask. Hold on. Marge!"

"What?"

"Woman wants to know if she can return a box of condoms without a receipt."

Marge silently considered the question. "Hmmm."

The woman at the register put her head down on the counter. "God, these fuckin' people."

"Is it an open box?" Marge asked.

"Hold on. Yeah, is the box open? Did you open the condoms? Uh-huh. Right. Hang on."

"She took the plastic wrap off the box, but the safety seal is still on."

"And she doesn't have a receipt?"

"No receipt."

"Well, we can't give her a refund, but tell her she can have store credit."

"Ma'am, yeah, without a receipt we can't give you a refund. You can get store credit though. Uh-huh. Right. Jeez, hold on. Marge! She wants to know if she can exchange the box of condoms for two boxes of cigarettes."

Marge further considered this interesting new twist. "Hmmm." She offered a lengthy pause and then worked it out verbally. "Yeah, I guess, right? It's an exchange so it can be for anything in the store. We have cigarettes in the store. So, yes. Yes, she can exchange a box of condoms for two boxes of cigarettes. The answer is yes."

"Ma'am, yes you can. Ok. We're open 'til eight. Yes. Ok. Bye now."

She looked up at me and there was a profound sadness in her eyes. "I think she's going to try and come in tonight. I really think she's headed right over here. God, these fuckin' people."

Posted at 6:23 p.m.

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