Uh, Saturday night we're going to a party. A party where everyone is a friend of The Irishman but a stranger to me.

I think I may just stop eating altogether.

But, hee, he left me a voicemail at work. That's nice, particularly on a day when I've been calling managers and wheedling them to send me something I need. Something I need NOW!!!, TODAY!!!!, because otherwise we're going to have a serious problem. I have never seen managing directors panic like they were today.

And in the same voicemail as the party invitation was an invitation to go shopping for bicycles. For some reason he's all over the "wanna help me choose a bike?" request.

Sweet.

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