Yum.
Yesterday, Lifeguard Girl and I went to Stucci's for ice cream. (Yes, I got Superman.) I've always had a little crush on her, but sweet fancy Moses, there are not words in the English language to describe what a vision of beauty she was last night; given the right cultural context, I would have launched a thousand ships for her.

Posers
Margaret remains Margaret Dykehouse. Parker and Mary remain Parker and Mary Peppard a.k.a. Mary Cannibal.

In Other News
The thought occured to me the other day: what if I'm over Lindsay? Pragmatism would dictate such a course of action, as she a) has rejected me, b) lives two thousand (soon to be three thousand) miles away, and c) has been dating the same chode for eleven months. I could very well be much better off "without" her. My primary evidence is that I keep finding little excuses not to call her, but that could also be a simple exercise in ego, ergo, I want to force her to call me. Hmm. Certainly, no resolution will be forthcoming tonight.

Lately, I can't get enough apple sauce. Also, plain bagels, uncooked with nothing on them. Yes, yes, I know, dry white toast....

Ben Folds's Rockin' the Suburbs. Undeniably wussy, but undeniably good. If I don't get Keep It Together for my birthday, I'm going out to the store to buy it the next day. Same thing with Welcome Interstate Managers.