2002-01-29 | 6:27 p.m.

corduroy licorice liked to divide the spoils. he'd feed the rotten fruit to his mom's hogs and put the rotten vegetables in the mulch pile.

***

well, the vote has been rocked.

i did an impromptu poll of my posse and two of them think it's a heinously bad idea to hang out with desert storm, one is taking the "do what's right for you" diplomat route and two more are saying, "what could meeting for a cuppa joe hoit?"

bottom line: he's a dud who once treated me like crud, so why should i give him the pleasure of my ever-so-freakin'-delightful company?

true, true. but it could make a great diary entry!

what i won't do for my readers.

should i go or say "no-no"?

to make this determination, i put myself in the manolos of carrie from sex in the city. if she was invited out by one of her most dastardly exes, would she go?

leading to the acronymic question:

WWCD?

i wondered. was returning to the scene of a relationship crime the act of a guilty person? was carousing with emotional ex-cons the dating misdemeanor of the '00s?

carrie would so go. and she'd be dressed to kill. and she'd sip her cosmopolitan with joie de vivre. she'd laugh too loud, throw back her tempestuous mane and cross and uncross her legs too much.

well, i don't have a tempestuous mane, but i can cross and uncross my legs and drink cosmopolitans like a supah trooper.

oh, i dunno. is it worth enduring mild nausea for a night of one-upmanship? tough call. for some. like me.

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