I did that thing where I woke up in the middle of the night and my brain went
for an hour. FYI: I abhor jazz. Would you like to torment me? Play me some jazz. Jazzzzzz. Good Lord.
So now I am late, but my mention of jazz (jazzzzzz) (good Lord) reminds me of a question I've been wanting to ask you for quite some time: What would be your idea of hell?
Mine would be something along the lines of having throw-uppy nausea while in a loud frenetic-jazz club with everyone talking on their cell phones and taking time out to tap me on the arm. Once I felt better, the only food choices would be shrimp cilantro or raisins. With sweet tea.
And everywhere you turned would be a tarantula.