Falai: The Week Jules' Panties flew at Half-Mast
I know what you're thinking: "Is Jules literally cold and dead in the ground?" and "I hope a stranger took pity and paid for her burial, maybe even a reception, some Cap'n Crunch, some Diet Dew, a track or two of Indigo Girls from her 1982 Aiwa cassette player...Something to send her off with the dignity she so eschewed in life..." But no, I'm not dead although I definitely flatlined a couple of times at a delightful wedding where I didn't know anybody.
So, for one week, even though Frank's extended metaphor of Iacopo's "marzipan shackles" made my vestigial fang tremble, I didn't bite.
However, in future, even if I am incredibly busy, or hard at work, I promise to keep nipping at Frank's heels like the immature virtual Terrier I am.
"Hey Frank! You forgot your bra! LOOK! A bra!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I love to sniff poop! Because I'm stupid! YAY!!!!"
Yumcha to follow...