I've made a horrible mistake.
...Okay, maybe I'm being too dramatic in describing it that way. It wasn't a horrible mistake, just a mistake. I apologize for being so over-the-top in my choice of words; it's horrible of me.
I promised y'all a conclusion to my boyfriend-in-the-hospital saga and had even completed writing most of it, but left it on my computer at home, which I no longer have access to. Therefore, you will still see Part 3, just not this weekend.
But why not this weekend? Because I'll being regaling you with a new series of reports from the desert!
A picture of the desert and one of those flat, black things that cars like to drive on.
Yes, I carload of attitude is making its way today to the glamorous town of 29 Palms, California, where we'll be staying at some isolated cabin, drinking tequila and mojitos, taking new photos for our MySpace profiles, hiding fake snakes and terrifying each other, and basically being ridiculous.
In the desert, no one can hear you make an ass of yourself.
Accompanying me is my post-op* boyfriend, Corey, my dearly beloved friend, Carrie, and another sweetheart-o'-my-heart,
The author, his boyfriend and Carrie with Logan, circa 1986
This is all promoted under the assumption that I'll find Internet access out there, of course. If not, I'll write but post later in the week.
See? Already some suspense!
*When I read this paragraph to Corey he busted out laughing and hit me on the shoulder a few times, exclaiming "You can't write 'post-op'! Do you know what that means?"
"Yeah," I answered naively, "Post-operation."
"Yes," he continued, "But that's what they call transsexuals who've just had their sex-change surgery!"
I laughed hard and, unwilling to edit the sentence, decided to include this aside.