C-List reported to me last night from a Shakespeare-themed hotel in Ashland (I'm jealous):
"oh, I know you know what I'd say
telling you off isn't my style anyway
just... y'know... I think you're too smart for this ;)
I mean, for many more of the hand-holding, seat-reclining, hair-brushing-away-from-face sessions
specifically after a night of drinking
So why would I need to lecture you?"
Incidentally, thanks to her, Portland is my new evacuation plan - y'know, in the event that San Diego burns down, or Lui gets too crazy, or some other insufferable disaster occurs.
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So, understand I was fighting a mean cold I'd contracted in Oakland (them Oakland colds are the WORST). Also, I had a raging headache. And I had left my dog and cat behind.
But still-- I stand by my passive aggressive gchat wisdom.
And you are most welcome here. You would ADORE my apartment. Probably. Well, I'm filling the vintage leaded hutch with alcohol, AND there's a liquor store like twenty feet away.
And as my life of two weeks ago seems but a distant memory, yeah, it is a good place to evacuate to, from anything.
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