Courtney Cox, I love you

Hi internets! You don't write, you don't call ... What? You've been calling every day and I never pick up? Unpossible! Clearly, it is You (Time's Person of the Year, natch) who has failed to maintain this beautiful and delicate relationship we have spent weeks, nay, MONTHS cultivating. No, shhh! Don't speak! Don't speak.

No, for real. I've got a headache.

So, what's new? How's the holiday season been treating you? Good, good. Here Chez Slav things are plodding along quite nicely. In BK news, on Friday the man himself was named the newest partner at his law firm. Woohoo, go BK! Good things happening to good people -- me likey. Also, BK's Christmas gift to himself was Lasik. Look how cute:

The Stanimal emailed me yesterday to tell me he was not able to figure out at which terminal our flight to Toronto will be landing. Not surprising considering we don't leave for another week. Eager beaver much, Stanimal? This trip has all the ingredients of a true holiday fiasco, I'm telling you You. The Stanimal and his wife now live in a condo in a high-rise, and they were very insistent back in June that we make reservations one of the rental apartments in the building. But see, the baby, he goes to sleep in the seven-o'clock hour. Hm ... maybe this is all part of the Stanimal's evil plan to see as little of us as possible.

Speaking of the baby, he walks!



A weaker woman than I might also say he talks, but I'm waiting until he repeats things a little more before giving him the gold speaking star. They probably don't give gold stars any more, do they? They're all exclusionary for the kids who didn't get one. Let's give everyone a nice pale yellow star instead! Just for being you You!