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At work we have a database that's proprietary to our office, where we store all kinds of informational notes about donors. In Research, we use those notes to augment our work or confirm certain things we can't otherwise verify. Most educational institutions have this kind of thing for their alums, as well, and I've been working in close concert with an affiliate alumni database to get dirt on this one lawyer. Well, not dirt. Information. Dirt comes later.

(Seriously he seems like a nice guy, I'm sure there's no dirt.)

I have to admit I am this close to writing a fanfic that is just a series of Harvard University database entries about Harvey Specter and Mike Ross. Some of the shit in this database is hilarious (some intentionally, some clearly the unintentional ramblings of a less-than-subtle fundraiser). I guarantee you within two weeks of Mike showing up in Harvard's database, he was getting solicitation letters from the Alumni Association.

And then of course Mike is like "I'm not sending money to a school I didn't actually go to" and Harvey is all "Send them money so that they can build a record of you in the system" and then Mike's like "Dude I sent them money and now a fundraiser wants to take me to lunch" and Harvey's like "Oh good, I need to talk to them about my planned giving, I'll come too, stop calling me Dude" and then the fundraiser is all "DATABASE ENTRY: Alumni #22875 Harvey Specter; Married/Partner: Alumni #35672 Michael Ross".

I have yet to research a lawyer that didn't marry another lawyer. It's kind of eerie.

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NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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LORENZO IS BACK. I SAW HIS FURRY LITTLE ASS RUN ACROSS THE KITCHEN.

For those of you who weren't around in 2010, I had a plague of wasps and mice descend on me almost simultaneously. The mice liked my italian bread, so I named them all Lorenzo. I think this is Lorenzo VI. Possibly VII if he's got friends.

The good news is he does not seem to have pooped on anything yet. Last time he got into my tea towels and it was like a festival of mouse poo.

Time to buy traps and cheetos. Lorenzo fucking loves cheetos.

Before you say it, a) no I won't buy glue traps, promise, and b) no, I will not cohabitate with a tiny roommate who eats all my food and poops in my mixing bowls. I'm going to kill him and everyone is just going to have to deal.