and while i'm posting on here, i've got a couple of other unrelated things:
first, i just saw that the reason you all have been deprived of this blog's principal author is because she has been saving her posts as drafts rather than publishing them. principal willing, i will release these drafts over the course of the next few weeks. (wow, this must be how that guy felt when he came across all of those tupac songs that were never released. except tupac was dead, so i guess my analogy is kind of crappy. but you get the idea, right?)
second, i'd just like to reiterate that the post directly below this post was not specifically aimed at me (nice strategy to wait until my happy berfday to bring this up, right?). it was directed at the kind of frustration that comes when a spouse drinks the last soda pap (yes, we've still got a little soldier in us), or when she––i mean they––hide the m and ms and tell you they're all gone. know what i'm sayin'? if not, let me help you.
close your eyes and imagine that you are stuck in a place where nearly all hope is lost, and you are despondently fighting against a great, impossible army. you look up and see that the enemy is about to swoop down and wring the very last drop of fight out of you, then suddenly realize that you have one final life-sustaining energy pack among your used-up bag of supplies. you hurry to get the sweet elixir, knowing that you must have it to sustain your fight––and your hope––one more day, only to find that it's been taken by your (sweet, innocent) partner––WHO ISN'T EVEN FIGHTING TODAY! as you shrink in despair, knowing that your time has surely come, the opposing army of things pounces. the first thing throws up on you. then the second thing poops in her armor and makes you clean it up.
now you know what i'm sayin'? see, the magical potion's absence only expedited the inevitable. it was the army of things that did all the dirty work.
*a small piece of cake would be nice, too. you're not totally off the hook.