Ok, time for Beff and I to stop hanging out. Last evening we're pretty sure her new neighbor probably assumed we were lovers (for the record men may frustrate the living hell out of me from time to time, but I don't see the alternative as an option). From there we played with our hockey boys... kind of, of NHL 2003. Can you believe that crazy ass injured Bates? What a blow. Either way a fun evening reward post-walk. Now, today we swing into Taco Hell for a quick lunch and get proposed marriage by a gentleman that worked behind the counter. And here I thought the Slipster was the one with the nickname "threesome".

"I'm afraid I can't help it. -David Bowie"