My cat's name is Tasha but I say "Tashiiii" and make approving cat-like noises at her

This is eventually going to be a painfully superior account of my job working for the 2008 Democratic presidential campaign, but I haven't started yet so I'm going to talk about my cats and maybe give out some hot fashion tips.

HEY GUYZ, HERE'S A PICTURE OF MY CAT ^_^

My job title is "Official Sellout and Shill for Motherfucking Howard Fucking Dean," and I'll be taking his message to the masses.  The masses, by the way, are not going to be pleased with me.  I tried to get a more, you know, indoor type job, but they just ignored the line on my resume that reads "WRITERMAN 100% Super A+++!"  They also ignored my total lack of political experience or, honestly, interest, so I guess I'll take it.  Now I'm sitting in my suburban basement, reading some pamphlets on Dean's exciting new plans for fucking up the Democratic Party, and realizing that inner-city canvassing probably won't be like The West Wing.  The people I'm working with aren't nearly as attractive or witty as I'd expected, and I've yet to be introduced to the President, Speaker, or even a measly Supreme Court Justice.  There's like twelve of them, not one can spare a weekend to come up and say hi?

Fashion tips to follow!