2001-07-26 :: 8:35 p.m.

Dog is kenneled.

My Boy, I love you for driving us there and when you sit two feet from the television, your thumbs cracking from pressing the controls so hard.

You give me room to move.

I never thought I'd live to hear these words come out of my mouth "Mmmm...Blue Paradise Bacardi Breezers taste good."

Do you know that tomorrow we will see "our" band? Do you know how good it feels to squeeze you close and sing along?

I thought so.

And then, airplane antics, bright and early...five am, your shoulder, my head, my head, your head. All the way to the Sunshine State.

Dog is kenneled and we're on our way.

Miss Foxx can't receive calls. She can only make them:

"This is a sign! My phone is broken! My phone is broken on the day he wants to call me! It took him a week to finally take the inititative to call and my phone was working during that interim! This is a sign! The fates are conspiring against me and my getting me some!"
"There is no sign. You should just get his number and call him."
"Verizon is seriously fucking up my love life!"

He's got a biblical name, the boy in question. "Whether or not we'll beget children remains to be seen. I will say, however, that i want to know him in the biblical sense."

Thus begins the chase. Godspeed, Miss Foxx.

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