California called

California called me last night. She's a little bummed. Her voice is tinged with regret - it's worse than the time she went on that three-day bender in Vegas.

"It seemed like such a good idea at the time," she said.

"I know - it always does," I replied. "You were in a bad situation. What could you do?"

"I know! Exactly! It's just - now I realize," she sighed. "I don't really know anything about this guy. You know... I was swept up. He had the charm and the charisma. I got sucked in by the style but now I realize there's not a lot of substance."

"So what are you going to do?"

She was resigned. "What can I do? I'm stuck with him now."

"Well," I offered. "It's only for a couple of years, right?"

"I guess..." she sighed again. "Hey did you see the Daily Show last night?"

"Absolutely. It was hilarious."

"I know! But what the hell happened to Marc Singer?"

"Only the Beastmaster can tell us."

Labels: 2003