I'm just a crosshair, I'm just a shot away from you
And if you leave here, you leave me broken, shattered, a lie
I'm just a crosshair; I'm just a shot, then we can die.
. . .I know I won't be leaving here with you."
-Franz Ferdinand, 'Take Me Out'
Life is fabulous here. I've been traveling for nine months, and I've met more awesome people here in the last two weeks than anywhere else, at any other point in my travels. We set the February sales record--well, actually, that was all Chris. He has also taken to calling himself the world's greatest barman. That's okay, as long as I'm the world's greatest barmaid.
I've been banned from officially competing in the quiz anymore, but I am still permitted to own at the cereal box game. I went out for something like 12 straight nights for my birthday before succumbing to exhaustion. During this birthday extravaganza, we took billions of photographs and had priceless conversations in the staff room. Just a few snippets of brilliance:
"Shower Police! Did you take a shower yet?"
"The only big spoon in this room is under Daniel's bed."
I guess you had to be there.