When life gives you lemons, make mojitos.
When life puts assholes along your path, make foxholes.
About to see Jon about shaping up the head of hair and will give him the same directive I gave the jaunty Israeli: short, saucey, sexy.
Ka-slosh ka-slosh ka-slosh last night, speaking of assholes and mojitos, not in that order, exactly.
No time to delve into the context of the assholes but my girlie tribe knows the slew of details.
So, on to the mojitos.
I get a call from Sam and Beth Dearest. One of those We are here and you are so there calls that has me nearly driving to the airport. But, alas, responsibility. So the Wish you were heres. No, wish I was There. Have not been in Middling City's embrace as long as I was gone so I'm still in what I call Post-Travel Limbo as my heart is split in two and I'm a distance learner, a distance yearner.
Have REM's Call Me Leper from New Adventures in Hi-Fi on the play and replay and rererererereplay mode.
Now to Jon for some good old-fashioned rockstar, Harley-driving, Marlboro-smoking, dog-loving high times.

Tribal Love.