Road rage got a bit political this afternoon. Your intrepid/interpid hero Dr. Cam was heard to exclaim, "For fucks sake! This is Fitzroy, not Gaza! There's no fucking checkpoints so get fucking moving!"
People were driving very slowly, it was totally justified to yell at them.
Leaving band practice tonight, went in for the fist bump with the keyboard player. She ignores the fist and goes the kiss on the cheek.
FIST BUMP DENIED! What does this mean? Is the band breaking up?
Get home from band practice and there is nary a sign of Dave. Is he gone? Nein.
He walks in a few minutes later and yells out "HOUSE PARTY!" despite all evidence to the contrary. Proceeds to drop the bottle in his hand which then shatters on the floor. Am heartened to know that long after Dave is gone there will surely be sharp, painful reminders in my feet of the time we spent together.
I express this sentiment to him and then proceed to physically remove him from the house. A wave of relief, a weight is lifted, no longer is Dave mine cross to bear.
I miss him a little, gentle reader.