The Butcher and I went to the Pie Wagon for lunch. He had the meatloaf; I had the Cajun fried chicken. We both had the mashed potatoes, which were fantastic.
I have half a mind to get my hair cut like Colette. Shoot, if I were that hot, I’d sit around all day at the Pie Wagon in a man’s suit smoking and making folks nervous, well, and eating pie. Because, folks, they have the most fantastic pecan pie.
Yum.
Also, I would make such an awesome zombie. My fingers are turning purple and green from the whole drunken iron chandelier incident this weekend and I must say, I think I look cute purple and green. Some of the Fugates were dark enough to be purple… But I don’t see how that does me any good.
There’s something to mull over. Is turning the Fugates pink good or bad? Is being blue a defect that needs to be fixed or did we lose an extraordinary bit of diversity?
Tiny Cat Pants 
I used to eat at the Pie Wagon back when it was in its old digs on 12th .. I worked in the building next to it. Dangerous.
Chris, what is your job? Are you a spy?