Ok, there are a patrillion things that I’m supposed to be doing right now.
- book the bowling place so we can have a late b-day party for sick-on-her-birthday Abby
- deposit some moolah in the bank (why do I always put that off? makes no sense)
- contact FSU for my official transcript
- look at my bank balance (oy vey)
- hit Publix for some dinner fixens
- clean the kitchen in anticipation of actually cooking
I think that’s it. Not quite so intimidating when it’s all written down. OH crap. I also have to pay my ticket before there’s a warrant out for my arrest. Yeah, on Easter Sunday I ran a red light. (I still insist that it was yellow.) I tried to smile my way out of it, but mister man wasn’t so nice. Happy Easter my arse!
That being said, of course, I’m gonna blog. Can a person die of overprocrastination? I think I’ll be a guinea pig on that one.
So, Stiletto asked how J5 and I met.
Picture it. Sicily. 1912.
Try French class. 1988.
I don’t know him yet, but I want to.
So I write some obscure yet witty quip on a tiny piece of paper, fold it up, and throw it at him.
That was the beginning of a year of flying paper.
Best of friends.
We lost touch after J5‘s freshman year at FSU.
Both married other people, had kids, got divorced.
I found him on myspace, by accident.
Here’s the video synopsis.
Johnny, feel free to add anything I’ve missed,, (especially if it’s complimentary towards yours truly,) and try not to go all egomaniac on me. 😉