In Which FHC's Unnamed Destination is a US Territory For Once

I received a text message from everyone's good friend FHC today that said "We hope you did not take advantage of our absence for not blogging.  Kisses from the islands."  I think what FHC really meant with this message was "LL, who did you sleep with this weekend, please tell us in blog format."  See, FHC gets to hop off to the Caribbean and, me, I'm stuck studying.  In any event, there's very little to say because I had a very well-behaved weekend, involving mostly karaoke with heterosexuals and a vist to Flushing (that's in Queens) for dinner last night.  Fagat's mother was in town (imagine Fagat only prettier) and even she asked how FHC was doing; I had to tell her that unfortunately there was a divorce in the family.  So FHC - who if you remember claims to always be suffering - gets to go away and tan for five days whereas I am sitting here in the library writing a stupid paper and losing melalin at drastic rates.  For future, when FHC tells you how hard life is, or asks you for a favor, just remember how charmed the lives of the French really are.