I've concluded that the best things happen to other people that are close to me so I can live to tell their stories. I guess I want to make them famous more than they do. Like my roommate that got bitten by a rabid cat because my other roommate let her in? And she didn't get bitten once, but twice. Twice. Twice? Twice. How does one get bitten twice, you ask? By continuing to pet it after the first bite. I realize that I am a terrible person for laughing maniacally everytime I tell the story, but really, if you heard it, you'd find it amusing. I am a firm believer of healing through laughter. It is time to let the healing begin. Anyway, I've told her story umpteen times since it happened three nights ago and even she finds it funny now kind of, so I don't feel so awful for finding mirth in this particular situation.

I found another reason to move. As if I needed another. This place has become Too Much Information Palace. Do I need to know exactly where you're fixing to wax and how hard this specific spot is to get at? Did I ask you about the director's chair in your bedroom? Do I really care that when you have sex with your girlfriend she insists on calling it The Slow Groove? I am overwhelmed with information and tidbits. I am drowning in trivia that will never be on Jeopardy! or Hollywood Squares. Is that still on the air? Is Whoopi still the center square? I digress. But I really do care. Someone let me know or else I'm going to have to embark on a Google journey that ends with me finding out somehow where Cute Waiter lives. I'm off Google this week, just so you know. And still I digress. Basically, yeah, I kind of guessed what all the racket was about but I don't need you to be explicit about who spanked who last night. Don't get me wrong; I'm no prude. I love details. Actually, sometimes I like details too much but not from the people that I live with who I don't want to picture naked from the waist down with a wax strip. Honestly. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

Did Erykah Badu really break Tea Leoni's nose? What? She sang Kiss Me On My Neck. Andre 3000 kissed her pregnant belly. She is a lover, not a fighter. That can't be true.