Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.

Monday, May 23, 2005

I wound up not calling the Omicron number. I just couldn't figure out what to say. "Hi. Are you a retired superhero? You are? How you doin'?"

Erin and John had me over for lunch this weekend. At least, Erin did; I have yet to see any evidence that John is aware of my existence. I don't know why I keep accepting her invitations; it's always the same. Erin and I have the same boring conversations we always have, in which she tells me about people I don't know anymore, and I avoid telling her anything about my life, while John grunts and stares into space.

The only difference is that this time John kept getting interrupted by his phone, which he had to take in the other room. And he eventually wound up kicking me out because he had to run off to a big impromptu meeting. I guess I couldn't be trusted alone with his woman or something. Not that I was complaining; the conversation went basically:

"Hey, buddy, you gotta go; I have to--"

"Okay see you bye!"

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