this imploding heart

Oh, Sjet. I'm so sorry. Would you like me to approach them across the country and kick them in the shins?

Or I could frighten them into fleeing the party.

ps- Alternatively, I could be one of the hundred random people who looks at your blog every day and I could decide to stalk you since you've posted your name and actual digital photographs of your spicy cuteness, and now you've just gone and told me where you live.
Please be more careful. If I have to avenge your death I really will end up in jail.

Isn't the PLUA notice just the very, first baby-step start toward knocking down the building? Like the one posted outside The Gilded Lily months, if not years ago now?

Also, maybe there's a phone number on the sign for people to call & comment regarding the proposed action -- you could pass it out to all your friends & everybody could call to complain about the building being knocked down & maybe if there were enough complaints, the City might not issue the Master Use Permit or whatever your landlord needs to do the dirty deed.

Don't give up hope so quickly, unless there's a definite date for demolition listed, in which case you might as well start packing.

I thought of you, Joshy, and changed the name, du.

Avenge my death by writing a good story about it and making sure my parents never find any actual evidence that I was less than perfect.

I will avenge your death when the feds take you out in whatever way you like. Let me know. If I die first, we'll haunt 'em good.

I told my Mum and she said the same thing as she said when I cut off my index finger (yeah, really!), she said that nothing really bad happens to truly good people.

I can give you her address if you'd like her to comfort you directly.

At our house we feel sad about your architectural downer and elated by your cookie habits (although you didn't say what you do with the milk...)

nai, ycul, dna ylil

I love moms! I will send yours postcards with no swear words on them.

The milk gets a drinking right from the container. (and since I'm a grownup now, I have to clean up the cookie mess later, obviously. stupid growing up.)

hey IC, is your finger still gone, or did they sew it back on your hand? Or maybe replace it with your middle toe? Also, did your mom say that right after you cut it, or did she wait until the bleeding was contained? I love it!

nope, that's it gone forever... it's the tip of my left index finger. it gets me served faster in bars, as people assume I'm a wasabi (or whatever those triad guys are called that cut their fingers off)...

I don't mind too much, although initially I envisaged that I'd have to wear Dr No style fitted black leather gloves in order not to freak out passing children... I got over that fairly quickly and by the time I'd worked my way back to naked hands (via leather gloves, a gauntlet, surgical examination gloves and an oven mitt) the trauma had subsided.

it happened eleven years ago, and should serve as a lesson not to poke your fingers into the whirly bits of motorcycles.

lesson learned - it's 2am now and we're only an hour away from bed. the chocolate has all gone and all is well.

ic