September 14th, 2007


As Butters would say, "Son of a biscuit!"

Or as I'd put it, son of a butt-fucked whore.

Today marks the second time this week that I've managed to lose my keys. Only this time I've lost them out in the wilds of Tuscaloosa, leaving me firmly locked out of my apartment.

Without my phone, which I accidentally left at home today. So, yeah. I would no doubt lose my head if it weren't firmly attached to the top of my neck.

Immediately upon realizing that my keys weren't where they should be (consciously realizing it, that is. I've had an itch at the back of my brain all afternoon that something was awry, but what that something was didn't come to the fore until I patted my hip and felt nothing under my hand but my firm, supple booty), I crossed campus to the post office, which is where I'm pretty sure I left them, to see if they were there. No luck. So, I returned to work, to see if maybe there was still someone in the shop at 5:50 pm on a Friday before game day to let me in and look and see if maybe I'd left them here. Again, no luck. But suddenly, LUCK!

Whoever was the last one out the side door left it unlocked. Which normally under these circumstances (gameday weekend, 200 yards from the stadium, campus crawling with people) would be VERY bad, but today was a godsend. So now I have a base op, supplies, and communications, and can wait in air-conditioned comfort for Sam to mount a rescue mission.