Another Good Reason.

The internet is down in my apartment and there isn't a damn thing I'm to do about it. The adorable college agey repair man with the cute butt said something with the signal something not being strong in the complex because of wiring and something something...I don't know, I was looking at his butt. But I digress.

When the internet is down, I cannot visit with my mistress Skype and nestle myself in her video chatting glory. Which means I cannot inter-date with a certain delicious bearded man in a certain dreary foreign country. And that limits our options of communication to telekinesis, or the land line Geoff can call from that's in a building not necessarily close to his room. That he shares with what is called a "shit ton of people" in polite society.

And when Skype, with her wiley ways cut us off midway through my description of a frightening addiction to grapefruit and how I'm thisclose to actually splitting off into deliciously citrusy sections myself, that man, that delicious bearded fellow with the awesomeness that awesomes, walked through the snow, stood in line for 30 minutes, handed over a credit card, and dialed my number just to hear the end of the story. Even though it was past his bed time. Even though it was really cold. Even though the story wasn't even that good to begin with.

Because that's how he rolls.