I smoked a blunt last night. I felt all gangsta and shit. Mikaela wasn't too pleased because she thought I'd lit cat shit on fire and was smoking that, until I showed her the cherry blunt papers I'd managed to sneak into her grocery cart (she has a huge purse and not much in it, so I had hidden myself and grabbed things I needed off shelves and stuck them in the cart when she wasn't looking). She apologized, like a little bitch, and wondered why cat shit would smell like cherries. Herp derp derp. Fucking genius, this one is. *points to Mikaela over shoulder* But, being decent as I can muster toward her, for her letting me stay here and not treating me like shit, I offered her some. Then we listened to metal music. I must say, I really do like "Jesus Christ Homosexual" by Corporate Avengers, "The Bondage Song" by London After Midnight, and anything by Rob Zombie. But I got a bad case of the munchies. Thank goodness my lock-picking skillz are so up to date. I wonder how long before the feds find the bodies, snug and cold in their beds? Oh, and I highly recommend "Firestarter" by Prodigy. That is all.