Boozy McFloozy

People who dance around relationships bug me. This is one of the great benefits of being married; your status as someone who's successfully navigated the proverbial sea allows you to judge your single friends and the rump roasts they choose when they're shopping at the meat market. Nay, not just judge, but offer your opinion, which they sometimes even harken. There's nothing that makes me want to shake my Single Me comradettes more than when they hem and haw about whether or not they should call A Nice Guy Who Could *Possibly* Be "The One" for some silly reason or another. (Or when they let the WRONG guy get the best of them. You know who you are.) It's a bit like Pam and Jim from The Office. Can't they just get over their fear and admit their love for one another so that they can get married and throw One. Kickass. Wedding. that all their co-workers will get to come to, and, whoa, wouldn't that be a funny episode? You know what these two need? Friday cinq à sept drinks. Preferably double G and Ts. And preferably 6 to 10 of them. There'll be wedding bells in no time.