As Shontae and I are talking fishy, I must pause and remember my favorite fish of all time, Andrew. For those of you who have been faithful fans of my blogity blog, you may remember when my betta fish died (because I am stupid and left the window open for him to freeze like a fishstick). I was very sad and felt very guilty, and I even took the effort to make a coffin and grave for him. Now Andrew resides in a purple Kleenex box, decorated appropriatly with lilies, inside of his cuppy (where he liked to take Time Out or naps) behind the Grotto at my school. So, St. Bernadette and Mother Mary watch over his plot while I take classes next door in Aquinas.
I am sure that Andrew is somewhere now with his girlfriend the headless mermaid in the ocean of the Galapagos Islands, hanging out with ignuanas and flaring at purple jelly fish.
Whoever thought one could miss a fish, however, he was a good one and had a lot of personality. I'm debating whether I would want another one or not because it may not be the same, or it would be the same and I would feel guilty replacing Andrew.
Or, I could get real and eat fish sticks.
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