So I am the invited guest host #43. I got the number off the bus I rode the other night. Being a guest host won't do justice without some lame number behind it.
I got little to complain about today. A few itches, a couple of hairs out of place, but nothing else.
However, Saturday was different. One of my friends is moving across country and we had a goodbye dinner. Lost for words is the way to discribe the conversation. We sat, between a plate of sushi and time ticked away. Her waiting for me to say something supportive. I trying not to spill my guts in sorrow.
Damn annoying and frankly I ain't ever doing it again. Next person who decides to leave town before I do is getting a goodbye card and I am blocking their phone # until they leave. No hassles and ends fast.
The sushi place was a packed house. (See I know that our blog host HATES sushi so I am giving it equal time.) And being it was in downtown Denver and snowing like hell, it only makes sense that the majority of patrons had on low cut dresses, tiny coats and, of course, high heels. Yes, even a few guys. I was cold looking at them. The best part was most could not use the chopsticks. Eating sushi with forks is way, way, sick people. It was like a bad movie. I wanted to rush over grab the forks and run for the door.
It's over and so is this post. Thank you Jesus.