"I say in lectures in 1996 that fifty percent or more American marriages go bust because most of us no longer have extended families. When you marry somebody now, all you get is one person.

I say that when couples fight, it isn't about money or sex or power. What they're really saying is, 'You're not enough people!'

Sigmund Freud said he didn't know what women wanted. I know what women want. They want a whole lot of people to talk to."

- timequake, kurt vonnegut

I was reminded of this quote this morning, when I stumbled yawning into the Froghopper Nook living room. Everyone was up watching Gus, a Disney movie about a mule that could kick football field goals starring Ed Asner, Tom Bosley, Tim Conway and Don Knotts. We made smart ass remarks until Gus the mule won the Super Bowl and the movie ended.

This is why I'll be all nostalgic when the Boy moves out: there will suddenly be a shortage of people to talk to first thing in the morning.

Had a really good time last night in a bunch of different settings. I had planned to meet Stacy for dessert at Kalendar, and I was trying to be firm with myself about going alone. Usually I try to pack as many social calls as possible into my too-brief time downtown...fortunately, most of my friends amuse one another so there's a minimum of conflict and a maximum of good time. But I've noticed that poor Stacy always asks me out and I always extend the invitation further. I'm starting to feel like a cad at this point, which is why I didn't call Dirk or anyone else.

What I hadn't counted on was Q's interest in dessert.

Let me say at this point that I am more than interested in hanging out with Q & Pixie. See previous section for the depth of my feeling. And if I hadn't made a solemn vow to myself, I would've asked anyway. But ultimately, this was for the best.

Not the least of which because I had a kick-ass time. Somewhere along the line I convinced everyone that last night would be a good night for their first Ein-stein's experience, so after a mind-blowing caramel fruit plate we wandered over to that student hole in the ground that has sucked up so much of my time, cash & conversation. I couldn't convince Stacy & Pixie to take a chance on the ninesteins, so Q & I went it alone, consoling ourselves with offensive eighties cock rock ("It's So Easy," "Don't Cry" & "My Head's In Mississppi"). The conversation turned to uncomfortable reminders of our parents' sex life, but moved on before the horror could become acute.

"I was 15 before I started hearing the Vietnamese Hooker stories."

Being so comfortable & happy in the bar did something nice to my memories of the place. I've stopped feeling as if my time there is over...now that I can lounge on the couches with a different crowd, everything takes on a whole new freshness.

(Yes, like a deodorant commercial. Only with less chicks wearing chiffon.)

"Delicate flower. Delicate flower!"

The last event of the night was a strange hyper-goth masque going on in my old part of town. Pixie let me borrow her angel wings, which look incredible under black light, and I dedicated all my energy to the part of evil fairy/goth butterfly. This last label comes from a guy at the bar who looked remarkably like Gerard Depardieu, but very obviously was not.

Of all the celebrities to look like, I think this guy lost out big time.