Note to World:
Contrary to popular belief, it is not the year 2005. It is 2004, and will continue to be so until Dick Clark becomes well and can ring in the new year.

That is fine with us. We have been fighting the rising panic in our hearts and throats as we drew ever-closer to an odd-numbered year that we do NOT have a good feeling about.

I mentioned that I had had a bad feeling about 1997, too, and look what happened then. Princess Di and Mother Theresa were snuffed out in one fell swoop. Elementary school ended and middle school began. Even my ten-year-old brain knew that a year that tasted like aluminum foil was a bad idea. Mirm had the same thoughts, and we didn't even know each other then. This is all hard, concrete proof of my theory.

My theory that this year is going to suck ass.

I don't trust it. Mirm doesn't trust it. From the sound of Mirm's side of the phone conversation, Toni doesn't trust it.

2005 is not to be trusted.

We miss you, Dick Clark!

ink :: graphite