Actually, two frogs died in my care in 2008, the second discovered supine and clearly expired just a few short hours before midnight New Years Eve. I am convinced that I killed them both because they withered away one at a time while bloodworms bled out on the rocks uneaten. It just didnt seem like old age to me. Would a frog rather starve then eat freezer-burned worms? This will be one of my life's mysteries, and one of my crosses to bear.
Last night was one of the more sedate New Years Eve celebrations of my life. Between the two of us and our vast multitude of friends not one person called with a social invitation. ITS BECAUSE YOU HAVE THE PLAGUE... PREGNANT LADIES ARE THE ANTI-PARTY my husband says. We toast each other, Perrier and Heineken. We eat pizza and watch The X-Files. Mulder and Scully are older but still, she spends the whole movie in solemn crisis, running around in the snow doubting his every instinct. Some things never change.
On the other hand, I watched that show for years waiting for the two of them to give in to each others sultry sexiness. At times, during the boggier years of the show, it was my sole motivator for tuning in but they never caved to my prurient desires. After the X-files I lost interest in TV altogether. But this movie *spoiler alert* jumped right over the good stuff and put them in bed like an old married couple, comforting-goodnight-cheek-kiss and all.
Clark was asleep by 9:47 so I watched a red headed cougar paw Anderson Cooper on CNN waiting for the ball to drop. A correspondent on the ground testified to the frigid cold in Times Square by brandishing his frozen soda while people shreiked and pressed against the barricade. Oh holiday, your party spirit eludes me!
Anyway, just to be on the safe side I think I'll make Pascals Wager and resolve to be a better friend.
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