Well, it finally happened. G Clone was in the studio today with a bunch of manly men's men, as pictured above, and I got to go up and watch the taping. There was a big crowd gathered and a lot of squealing from the chicks when he first walked in. Honestly, it was embarrassing. I mean pull yourselves together, chicks. He's mine. I was there for The Facts of Life, I was there for Roseanne and Sisters, I was even there for Leatherheads (come on, not really), so I call dibs based on longevity and tolerance for '80s hairstyles alone. And the good news is, while for the most part we were separated by a thick wall of soundproof glass and never actually made eye contact, he did propose marriage and I did accept. Spiritually. Out of concern for the mental health of the global populace, however, we mutually consented to not phone, email, fax, or communicate in any way via terrestrial means at any time now or in the future. Separation in the name of true love (total strangerhood) is difficult, natch, but you can't fight the populace! Still, my heart will go on knowing we'll live together (apart) happily ever after, always (never).
Bill Murray waved at us on his way out, though, and lucky for the rest of you I dropped dead of zero heart attacks. Over & out, rock on, Meatballs forever!, and amen.