And they don't even make urinals

Worst. Company name. Ever.

Everyone's your friend

We leave for New York City in a few hours, there to witness a prodigy: the marriage of Peter Wong. The wedding itself will happen outdoors, in what almost certainly looks to be rain, at 8:30 in the morning, which has me a bit nonplussed. ("There's an 8:30 in the morning now?") But I'm sure it will be lovely. It will take all of my willpower, when the minister says "Do you, Peter Wong...?" to keep myself from running up and touching his nose. (I am also tempted to slip him a few hundred dollars to insert, "Are you, Peter Wong, an orange?" But I behave.)

Reception Saturday evening, then (I hope) some time hanging out with sinsofthedove on her home turf, plus Fun at zorblak's place on Sunday. Home again home again Sunday night, hopefully all unexploded.