mog rears her head

But will I smack it down like a whack-a-mole??

Ok, I must admit, I opened the door through which Mog's head is now peeking. So I can't fully Mog-bash. After my conversation with Big A I decided to give Mog one last chance. I don't believe in condemning someone based on someone else's opinion of them. I'd prefer to give a person the benefit of the doubt and then let her fuck up all on her own, if she's going to. So I wrote her an email and asked her to meet me for a drink on Friday. Just now I heard back: can't do it Friday. Maybe next week. So after a little more back and forth we're settled on Monday night at 8. We'll see. I'm not holding my breath. And meanwhile, I've got my own rich social life flourishing without Mog, so my investment is minimal.

For instance, I spent four hours watching the Golden Globes last night with S.K., who will read this later, so I have to be tight-lipped and coy about the whole thing. She made me soup. I was in the exact right frame of mind to have soup made for me, so it was perfect. Not to mention the soup was good and homemade. Yum. And we sat an excrutiating inch apart for the entire night. Excrutiatingly perfect. And that's all I'm saying.

Then I woke up this morning to a voice message from C.B. She actually sounded good. Relatively good, at least. I guess I'll call her today. If I can drag myself out of this bed which is very warm and cozy and equipped with wireless access. Really there's almost no reason to ever leave this bed at all... except, when it comes right down to it, I need coffee and food and a shower, in that order. And those things cannot be found in this bed. So, off I go...