Dave says I have 42 personalities. He particularly can't stand personality number 24 (she's the one who comes out when I'm PMS'ing). As it turns out, she and Dave had words the other night.
Dave called me as I was walking into my house after some good Cuban and a charming bartender with a heavy hand.
He told me he was on his way to some charity event. "I think it's for breast cancer."
"Breast cancer, huh? Because you walk in central park every summer, right? Because you're such a proponent of charity events? Are you going to be tying little pink bows this weekend? How much are you donating?"
"It's a holiday party and I'm going with my friend, Nick."
"Nick, huh? You mean Nick who owns a boat and a Mercedes because he needs a gimmick to get laid? That Nick?"
This is to say that I get a little bit jealous when I drink too much.
"What are you talking about? He was just asking me about you and why you won't move here. He says that if you loved me you would have already."
"As if Nick would know anything about a relationship."
"Babe, you're really pissing me off right now."
"Okay, you're right. How was your day?"
"I miss you baby. Have fun tonight."
Seriously, I really have nothing else to report. Well I do, but there are spies on the site now. Life has been a bitch in the office lately and I would love to rant about it, but I can't. Not yet anyway.
Update: Turns out Dave was wrong an it was for children's cancer.