Tidbits

Ok. So I have been a bad (red)girl and not written in a while.

First off: I have discovered some great blogs written by some truly talented comedy writers. I read so intently that I hit a bit of a timing crunch at work at clock-out. Check out:

http://wendiaarons.com/

Awful Library Books

And of course, the blogs in my side list are always good :)

Now, a few more story continuances.

Spoon Man has been back a few times since our little *incident*. My heart always droops a bit to see him check in, because it severely limits the bars I can hit if going out that night to: ONE. Ah well, sacrifices to maintain the honor of cutlery.

I hope you will all remember our friend from the Cursed Room...from Iraq? Click here to refresh your memory. Well. Things have been going swimmingly--meaning I talk to him as little as possible, and he has these long pontificous conversations seemingly with himself. I have knocked my facial expressions down from the naive smile of my yester-years to the wide-eyed questioning expression. To achieve this look, the eyes must be opened wide, lips slightly pouted out to enhance the cheekbones. You can tilt your head a tad to one side, and furrow your brows just a tiny bit.

This will communicate the general appearance of "But sir, I don't understand!" (now, with this picture, just age it 2 decades and make the hair red...that would be me)

So far, it seems to be working, although he talks more. Here's where things get good. After our last little such discussion, he ended with what I shall summarize as "...and yo, so when we get back to Iraq and all, we can just phone y'all up and chat, rehash the good times"



WHAT.



I have been circling the date in my calendar that they will no longer be in my life. I check the computer every day to see if they've moved the date up. I have swapped shifts with unsuspecting co-workers based on if it's a day or two when they're gone staying in SF. (Because yes, I--as their especial friend--get the privilege of knowing all their plans) I have wept, sobbed, beat my breast screaming "WHY GOD???!!!" into the empty storming, night...

You get the picture.

Not a snowball's chance in hell, even if I have to crawl down there and eat it myself.