I think Tom and Katie are still together. Dammit.

We took the cats to the vet today. Oh God. Oh God Oh God Oh God. Val wasn't about to go down without a fight and screamed bloody murder the whole time. When that didn't work she puked. Twice. (At least she didn't poop herself this time.) She gets so terrified it actually hurts me. Tinkerbell, on the other hand, just curls up and waits to die. The vet was wonderful (New Yorkers with pets: West Chelsea Vet is the best) and kept telling Val what a sweet girl she was (which was decidedly untrue). To Val's credit she never bit or scratched. Still, the thought of doing this again next year fills me with a kind of dread seen only in war movies.

My birthday is coming up faster than I'm entirely comfortable with and I've decided that in order to cope I need a REALLY BIG CAKE. I was checking out the prices at Billy's Bakery (which kicks Magnolia's ass, regardless of what those Sex and the City gals say) but I refuse to pay $45 for a freaking cake. Anybody got a favorite recipe they care to share?

I'm mildly intrigued by the fact that Nick Lachey is seeking spousal support from Jess. Not that he doesn't deserve a double-D sized pay day, seeing as how she spent the bulk of her marriage all up in a certain rock star's ass (or vice versa). So I say go for it. He had to deal with Daddy Simpson for several years; that alone's worth a cool couple grand. BUY THOSE BALLS BACK!