PipesDreams

Last night during the end-of-class pub outing with my fellow students and Professor Richard Greene, I decided it would be hilariously funny to send my prof a “reminder” that he needs to return my DVD of Stephen Fry’s movie adaptation of Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Vile Bodies’, called ‘Bright Young Things’, which I loaned to him over a month ago BEFORE I had watched it myself, and still have not received back, despite repeated hints.

The obvious, final “hint” was to order a suggestively phallic plate of deep fried pickles (along the lines of ‘s earlier suggestion of using a Polaroid of vice-grips crushing grapes as a persuasive tool, except a lot more greasy), which I instructed the waitress to deliver to him, topped with an ominously worded note suggesting he return my movie to me “or else”. My professor read the note, then looked up at me sitting across from him at the table, then peered with horror into the basket of fried goodies: his face was stunned, puzzled, fearful. But he ate one, bravely, using the salsa provided.

I wonder what my grade will be in this class?

I can’t find my cell phone. Where could it be?

Noticed it was missing Monday. Searched the house yesterday. Work and condo today. I haven’t made a call on it since Friday afternoon. I haven’t really been anywhere but work, condo and house from Friday to Monday morning, except going to the Snail for Midnight Madness and then back to the Snail again to get driven up to the house Saturday morning.

Maybe I left it in Eric’s car Saturday morning.
Maybe it dropped behind the sofabed in my yellow room when I was studying.
Maybe some mad young Star Wars fan thought it would be cool to have Queen Amidala’s cell phone and teefed it off of me in the crowd at the store Friday night.
Maybe it fell out in the cab on the way home Friday night.
Maybe I’ll never find it again.

The worst part is, the battery is dead, so even when I call it, it goes straight into voicemail.
I sure wish Justin was on MSN.