HOT CHICKS IN PERIL

Nick, it is coincidental that you would request such a piece of art. Just this morning, I was using my time machine (powered by an encaged team of Elusive Time-Traveling Eurasian Lynxes who go round and round and round, weeping tears for their lost families and homelands, tears that only fuel the fires of my ego) to travel back in time to sleep with FAMOUS HOT CHICKS IN PERIL, and after banging Joan of Arc and getting shot down by Anne Frank, decided to swing by the Titanic and yes, a scene very much like the one you just described played out. Only, instead of running for the boats, I was running for my time machine. And also, most of the women and children were scared away from the Machine by the desperate snarls of the Eurasian lynxes.

But now: now I am back. Yes, you have read that correctly: I am back in The Present. And now that I am, there are a few things to take care of:

Thing the First: Has anyone discussed dinner for Monday night? It is the only night that works for Kevin, and Wesley has some sort of obligation with a secret cult of thieving ninjas until 8:30 (?). It’ll be painful, but I can probably hold the beast of my stomach at bay until then. What about people who are not me? Should we pick a different day? Just sit around and play Russian Roulette? Leave the head of Wes’s ninja leader at the door to the dojo?

Thing the Second: Kevin, have you determined the name of your mysterious Italian restaurant?

Thing the Third: Bil, you’ve probably run across this yourself, but if not, and if you ever need some inspiration for your reading list . . . (which, I think, probably merits a post all its own)

Thing the Fourth: John, have you considered putting any sign-language related pictures of our roommate up here?

I’m just sayin, it’s damn ridiculous.