Dipy: I was so looking forward to having dinner with you and quaffing down a bag of peanuts on the Southwest Airlines midnight special flying into Portland. After which, I would rocket my butt down to Addi's victory party in San Diego. I was willing to ignore your horseplayer's wardrobe, your slurping the Lobster Bisque, and surviving your utterly irrelevant historical references. Heck, I was even willing to slip the waitress two extra double saws on the way out, knowing your prediliction for keeping hard and fast to your "Ten percent is enough for the Broad" rule. But now I find out that you are the moral equivalent of the war-time buddy who steadfastly promises to attend the reunion but never shows.
Too bad, you could have regaled this thread (as well as my enemies over on the Yahoo thread) with tales of my butt assed ugly mug, beyond excessive avoirdupois, and clearly apparent speech impediment, but no, you passed on the opportunity.
This obviously means no Giant Size Prawns, Tuna Tartare with Cucumber Coulis, Veuve Cliquot, or even Mango Sorbet.
I will have to console myself with a couple of bags of Jelly Bellys purchased from my local Walgreens. (Love the Watermelon. Hate the Buttered Popcorn)
I am deeply chagrinned.
JH |
