Gypsy Christmas!

It's Gypsy Christmas today. Why's it called Gypsy Christmas? Why, because Gypsies always show up late for everything. And I know it's true, because a real-life Gypsy told me!

So. It's the day after my and Nicole's big first meeting-cum-date and I... what, what are you giggling at? I just- Oh for gods' sakes, it's Latin! It means 'together with'! You've got a dirty mind. Regardless, I suppose yesterday's post gave a pretty solid hint as to how things were going, to whit: well. And yes, things went well. Very well. Extremely well. So damn well that I can scarcely believe it, really. Okay, I'm not going to gush, although I'm sorely tempted to. Then I remember how much I don't care about other people's petty relationships, so I think I'll try to keep that to a bare minimum. Not an easy task, I must admit, because I absolutely adore her, and could, if I wanted, go on about how amazing and wonderful and beautiful she is. Also, funny, sexy, and sweet. And, um, it appears that I might be gushing a bit anyway. Damn. How could I? Now I've lost every right to hate other people who yammer on about their significant others. Which is a shame, really, because I'm really good at hating people. But no, no more hating for me, I guess. America's lost one of her top-level haters on this day. Not my fault, blame Nicole. Making me all happy and pleasant like that, just who the Hell does she think she is? Doesn't she care about America's fast-dwindling hate supply? Unless... of course! She's a spy for the Soviets! Hmm... I'm pretty sure this makes me a traitor, and there's a good chance that the terrorists have won, now. Eh. Whatever. I don't think any of that's going to stop my going back. Many, many times.