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I’m leaving. On a jet plane.

So my life. What a strange thing it is. Sometimes it poops in my hand and then looks at me very smugly. And then other days, it’s singing the tenor part of an Andrew Lloyd Webber song with me about how wonderful the world is.

This week, I’m working uber long hours, hence the infrequent updates. I was at work yesterday for something like 12 hours because it was our big delivery day and something always goes awry. Last night, I was literally shaking from stress. What is more, it coincided with the final day of my antibiotics for the Throat of Fiery Death and it’s still scratchy and sounding like I’ve been smoking Marlboros every day since my stint as a cabaret girl in the follies during Prohibition. I’ve got to call my doctor and make another appointment. However I have found a rather happy coincidence in that not only does a Wendy’s Frosty taste really good, they are rather therapeutic for a chronic sore throat. Mary Poppins would undoubtedly approve.

See? Musicals. It’s all musical reference Thursday.

But last night, as I was working very very late, my friend Joel calls and tells me that he is sitting outside of my office and has a present for me. The present? Bootleg copy of the Dave Matthews concert Esteban and I attended over Labor Day. How damn cool is that?

Joel rocks. Officially rocks. In case there was ever any doubt.

And it’s a great reminder of how incredibly cool my life is sometimes. The sheer serendipity of attending that concert on a whim. It was such an incredible day filled with such incredible feelings. I can hardly look back upon it without smiling.

So today, I got an email saying that certain airfares have gotten extremely low. Call it the Level Orange sale or something, I don’t know, but suddenly, it’s way cheap to fly from Green Bay to San Francisco. Apparently, the airlines are managed by a guy called Crazy Eddie and at these prices, you’d be crazy to not go to San Francisco.

So, I called Esteban and whined, ‘I want to go back to San Francisco.’ And he replied, ‘Ok’ you know I can’t deny you anything.’ Which is just the kind of thing that makes me love him to death’. When I utterly expect him to axe my crazy whims, he indulges them.

In 20 days, I will be in San Francisco.

Yeah. I’m spoiled.

Serendipity. You’ve just got to love it.

(Not the movie with John Cusack and Kate Skinnygale. That was sort of painful, even though there was the lovely visage of Mr. Cusack to numb a bit of the pain.)

On a down side, one supreme bit of irony is that my third favorite author (Most favorite author being John Irving and first runner up being Margaret Atwood) TC Boyle will be giving a public reading IN San Francisco the night that I fly back home. Yeah, that stings a little bit. But not really. I’m confident that fate isn’t ready for TC and I to hook up quite yet. Fate wants me to be able to slap his ass with my Pulitzer Prize winning novel or some such.

Stop looking at me like that. A girl can hope.

But life’ seriously’ if you dream it, do it. My life is very. Just that.

Very.

Heeee!


Oh’ and Buffy? One syllable’. Woot. What a delicious plot twist. At least they didn’t draw out acknowledging who Wood’s mother was. Because then I would have been writing letters to Noxon again. But she gets a nod. And Angel? Oooooooh’. But Conner is still way too scrawny to be as strong as they claim he is. But then, I suppose Buffy is too. However, I never need to see another shirtless Conner as long as I live. Shirtless Wesley? No complaints from me.


Dear Unclebob,

Damn it. You knew who the damn Mole was again. I think you are perhaps in league with the devil. Or the folks at ABC. If so, UB, please go kick some Moley Russell’s Wart and find out whatever possessed the producers to exchange yummy silver fox Anderson Cooper with freaking dorky Marcus Allen.

Seriously. Classic style with a hint of sardonic wit? Or goofy jock boy? How hard was that decision?

And UB? I think you’ve got a Swappaddiction. I’m ready to do an intervention if needed. I’m just saying.

Love ya,
Weeter

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