Well la di dah. Let me be the one who needs to hide. Though...I don't see the point. At all.

So I ended up quite the t.v. watcher this morning. From E.R. (10 ccs stat R 22 etc etc). A Wedding Story. *sob* Phone calls - too many - awoke me out of my lovely slumber.

Just now mom comes home. With a fish. Yes people a fish. A pet fish. I see the woman walking into the yard. As far as my myopic eyes can see she's holding a clear plastic bag filled with water. I know these usually hold live pet fishes. Hmmm. I dared to ask :

Me: What is in that bag?
Mom : A fish
Me: EH? What are you going to do with a fish?
Mom: He's nice
Me: What are you going to do with a fish?
Mom : I dunno he's a fighter fish...his name is Fitzroy
Me : What are you going to do with a fish?

So after a while, calming from the shock of the thought of an actual pet in the house, I go outside to see the thing not expecting anything spectac. He's alright though. Pretty with blue and red - pic upcoming - when I finish that roll (yes indeed film..oh the bane).

Me : I hate that name let's change it
Mom : To what?
Me : Osama? (After some debate) Ok Ozzie. Ossie...Ozzie...Osbourne...something to that effect. Double entendre etc.

So I'm here looking for the thing's biological name. Being the unfish expert, I don't know why the hell kind of fish it is...wait till dad gets home. He'll know. Then I'll change his name again. For now I give up! Argh! Hes not an Oscar and he's not a Siamese fighter - but some sort of fighter. Grrrrr. The people who are selling it don't even know. At least mom got it as a present.

Maybe this is fitting distraction? Whoa.
Trace will find comfort in a pet fishy and will most likely talk to it. She has so arrived.
Goddamn.