Cracked open my fortune cookie at the end of the meal. Strangely homoerotic fortune.
"You are the guiding star of his existence.
lucky numbers 10, 24, 30, 34, 38, 39"
Strange. Who? Whose existence? I need to know. This is stranger than the weekly calls from Lanier High School telling me my son is skipping school. I assumed that was the time the Austin Independent School District sent agents to my room at 3:00 AM to collect DNA samples to Clone the Perfect Dork, or at least that's the only way I can explain the disturbing and explicit dream about my typing/tennis coach.
Anyway, back to work...