Of course those of you (hopefully a majority) who don't know this little masterpiece of a French teen movie that is La Boum (boum is the name of the first teen parties, where the first groping and tentative kissing and bad, bad, dancing will happen, encouraged by vast quantities of Coke-acola) won't understand the reference in the title - it's the movie's theme song. But you'll get the gist, I'm sure.
You remember that a couple months - months already? - ago, I determined that George, Jeff and me were history. Mostly because I just can't deal with egos the size of weather balloons, as I've got mine to consider, you understand.
Well, it seems that this sad fact has finally registered with George. And my, has he pulled out all the stops to woo me back. He even went so far as to guest-star in my dream last night. Nice dream. Lovely dream. He magically appeared at my parents' house (do you think that seeing a magic show could have that kind of effect? Sign me up for once a week.), and proceeded to charm the pants off me, my niece and my sister (figuratively, pick your minds from the gutter, you filthy animals you), used the bathroom to take a shower, and at 44, he's in great shape, let me tell you. Great shape.
And he joined us in that greatest trap of all, the family reunion... One of my aunts was delighted to have George Clooney in the picture, but I didn't care. I'd seen him naked, you see.
Have a lovely Friday, people.
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