The Twins.

Ah, the Twins. The Twins cannot fail to cheer me up, because they are superior to mere people. But they have their work cut out for them, because they must cut a swath of good cheer through the murky hate cloud that formed because of All. This. Fucking. DRAMA! that I've gotten spun up in this past week. Let's see, what have you got to deal with...?

Well, I got into a huge fight with Amber, bad enough that I'm not going to be speaking to her for a while so as to let us cool down. Which sucks, because Amber's one of my best friends, and I hate quarreling in general, and I feel like a bit of a horrible person today.

Then, there's the Players nonsense. Read the previous post for details. Madam President is attempting to guilt me back in, but I'm sticking by my guns for the time being, if only because every time I think about Courtney I see red.

It's absurd. A fortnight ago I was the happiest man in the world. Now, I have all this crap dredged up on me to ruin my good mood. I'm done, I'm burned out, I can't go on. I need something that'll bring me back up and let me forget all this stuff for a while, and let me approach it reasonably and rationally when I get back to it. You know what I need?

"What?"

A weekend full of Midwestern cuisine and hot, sweaty man-love.

"... Uh-"

HOT, SWEATY MAN-LOVE! And away I go!