My f.i.b. becomes less f.

So, um... wow! Lots to catch up on. My birthday has come and gone, but there's still lots more celebrating to do, so I'm A-OK with that. Maureen, however, wins the "worst birthday ever" award. I will not even begin to try to recap the many levels and layers that added to the suckitude.

And yet, while I have been very busy and occupied hanging out with her, comforting her, totally promising to kick a certain someone's arse six ways to Sunday, or lead a parade of other like-minded individuals to do the same, I must also glow a little about the fun new and exciting step I've taken in my "relationship" with Glow Boy, my f.i.b.

Yes, ladies and germs, we've exchanged digits.

Right, you say. Big whoops. I've done that with random strangers I meet in bars all the time. And ok, yes, I've done that once or twice myself. And we've been communicating pretty damn well without phone conversations for quite some time now -- well over 800 email messages, if that gives you any indication, in less than 2 months, I think. But the really exciting part is why we moved to the phone number exchange. And why is that, exactly?

Because he may be headed down here next weekend, and will therefore need to be in touch with me to tell me when he gets here.

Glee!!!

Yesterday was a very, very, very exciting day in our email correspondence. That is all I can safely say for public consumption.

:)