We aren't friends so stop trying.

My brother has mice. Ok, I had mice but only a few & they're all dead now, thank you.

When I first found out they were in my home, I was disgusted. It was when I caught my cat watching one of the brazen little bastards toodle across my living room floor that I became pissed. But after a good deal of investigation, I learned that at least half of Richmond homes are infested with these Barbie & Friends fur coats to-be, at which point they became more tolerable and on some (sick) level, cute. The senitment was short lived.

And now, sitting in my brother's dining room slash library, it literally sounds like a reinactment of the annual halloween D.C. High Heels Drag Queen Race in the ceiling above me. Trust me - those bitches got skillz. And some loud-ass shoes.