A Long Time Coming

So, neither one of us has written in a while. Phillip is too much of a slacker to really write anything and I was busy with school. As of right now, I'm on the phone with our mutual friend Andrea, who was decided that driver's ed school would be totally awesome to attend so she can get her license. Not being licensed hasn't stopped her from driving everyone fucking crazy, though. So, I don't see the point of her making it legal. She just told me her sister is 18 months pregnant and I believe it. I think Jamaal and I should sing her our version of Dannity Kane's "Damaged (ours is Trannity Kane's "Pregnant!" [so pregnant])

Besides Andrea a lot has been going on. I had a vacay in Savannah (before Miley, cause I'm a trendsetter like that.) Phillip stayed with me for a week and a half (and no WoW was played, check your pulse, it's that amazing.) I've been tanning by the pool (screams of horror at me being shirtless ensue.)

Oh, and Phillip has some wonderful news, but I'm not suppose to say anything until it's 100% official. The pic is related. Something funny will be posted later in honor of Heather (who likes to make me feel like a terrible person when I chuckle at limbless people).

Russian New Year

This is why they should have things like Perviy Kanal in the US. This is a little clip from New Year's Eve from Russian television. It's kinda fucking amazing and why don't we have shit like this here? The group is Fabrika and they are sort of a comedy/facts of life group, singing about going to the beach, and being a hussy for sugar daddies and the such. Basically, one of the best groups ever. Anyways, my children, this is why we should all have Russian television.

С Рождеством!

Hi, children!

Today is Orthodox Christmas and if I was a good little Christian boy, my yolka (tree) would still be up until the fourteenth of January (Russian New Year). Alas, I am not and it is boxed away, but I can still drink myself to death today, right?

Over It!

This is just to document something. More later.

Today, I Am a Woman

So, my family came over the other day to give me my Christmas gifts and so we could discuss the future. My gifts included money (the best gift of all), a new cookbook, and some crap from my step grandmother. But two things took the cake yesterday:
1. My mom brought me a starter herb garden!
2. Half of someone's present arrived.

Mama had planted rosemary (clipping) and seeds of sweet basil, thyme, and oregano. She had even made cute little clothespins with the common and scientific names on them. I added my own little touch with their English, Russian, and Georgian names. So, I thought I'd use half of the present to take some pictures of it to make sure the gift works before I give it away (big hint as to what it is.)

Basically, I'm uber-excited and can't wait to re-pot the little ones when it's thyme (God, I'm hilarious.)

Sorry Phillip hasn't posted in forever, he's officially a WoW-tard now.

C'est Villanie! Where is my Archi (Арчи)?

Ru.tv has ruined my life! AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHH. I was on the site yesterday, catching up with my Russian pop music and I went to the VJ section to see what my baby love Archi was recommending and stuff...and he wasn't on the VJ list anymore! Quelle shock! For those of you who don't know, ru.tv is a music video channel in Russia and Archi was quite possibly the most handsome man on tv. Half looks, half mannerisms. And he's gone! How could they do this to me? I mean, I was just about to get the courage to call into his show while he was on and talk to him, but no. I bet Putin had something to do with this. They were like "Hey, while Alan's away, let's remove Archi so that the next time he comes back to Russia he will be devastated." Well I am, Putin, I am.

A Man I Would Sleep With

Okay, I've been watching some sort of "What Not To Wear" marathon with some friends. Between fighting over who would be Stacy and who would be the make-up girl (both of which are fabulous and I totally am Stacy b/c I'm a bitch that hates my life, too...) I realized that I would sleep with Clinton Kelly. He's not quite at the "I would bottom for..." category like Jakie-poo, but he's getting there.
I'm actually starting to turn it into a fantasy. Clinton comes over, makes fun of my clothes, tells me to stip, and then we fuck like crazy in the 360 mirror room (everytime they say "360" I think of the silver fox AC [no, not me, Anderson Cooper, same initials {not a coincidence}] so that's a double turn on plus.)
The big bonus of sleeping with Clinton (besides screaming that name) is after you're done, you get like $5000 worth of clothes, a new haircut, and make-up. Fuck mints on your pillow, I want that type of treatment.

Check out his website (www.clintonkelly.com) for more amazingness, his books, and his life story (a must read.)

My Domestic Wishes for the New Year

Seeing as I've technically received nothing for Christmas yet, except for Phillip and a feud or two, I thought I would write down all my thoughts about my future homestead and what I want to start doing now. There's about a million or so things in my life that I want to do, but a recurring dream of mine is to be uber domestic. As some of you know, I already am overly domestic, especially when Phillip, Sasha Fierce, and I get together. The Christmas party that my roommate and his friend decided to throw at our place and tell Phillip and I about an hour before it started, and the fact that Phillip and I had hors d'oeuvres in that amount of time on holiday appropriate plates can attest to that.

Anyjew, here's what I want in my future domicile territory.

-Herb garden: I'm already starting an indoor one with the help of my mother and clippings from her garden. Her food always tastes ten times more amazing than anything else and she always chalks it up to her fresh herbs. At last count, I think she had 6 different types of Basil growing, along with oregano, sage, rosemary, thyme, and so on. Herbs aren't only good for cooking, they're great for aromatherapy and letting them dry around the house brings new scents into the house.

-Bee hive: Yes, a bee hive. I actually use to know a family that had one in their yard, and you would have never known it. Even when you're near flowers, you don't notice a unusual amount of bees flying around. And, they actually aren't aggressive at all until late summer when they become territorial. That's because bees have a five mile radius for flying and do other tasks within the hive, and also they lose their lives when they sting you. So, if they don't see you as a threat, they leave you bee (pun intended). The benefit of a bee hive of course is the honey, which after having fresh honey from the neighbors, I can tell you is truly amazing. A secondary bonus is growing bee friendly plants in the yard that the bees will pollinate for free.

-A great kitchen: All you really need in life to cook is a pan, a pot, and a great knife; however, there are a ton of things that you can get that will make cooking fun and easy. Like a Kitchen Aid stand mixer, food processor, blender, two ovens, built in cutting board, walk-in pantry, farm-house sink, bread maker, etc etc...Oh, and lots of windows for light. In my dream house, my kitchen will be probably twice the size of the living room.

A large house: Yes, this is everyone's dream, but since I'm not going to have kids (probably not, unless Georgienne can convince me otherwise) you may be wondering why the hell I want a large house. Barring me moving to the old country, I actually want to live with my friends. Pepaw already has a reserved spot even now at my apartment. Some people might think this is weird, but think how much more fun you have when you cook and clean and garden and party with your friends and your spouse. And then, when you get sick of them, just stay on your floor or wing of the house. The communal living has a ton of benefits like cooking for a large group, and doing activities together like working out and shopping, but also has the benefits of living in a house. Plus, I totally get to have a library, workout room, and sun room without feeling guilty about having more rooms than God.

Well, a gay man can dream.

Finals Are Over!

Sorry, children. I have not had the time to write about my existence. Even God took a few days to give Moses the Ten Commandments. Anyjew, the semester is over, but I'm still working. I have my thesis and my other project and now Dr. A wants to give me a third that would involve fusing and subcloning B cells from mice spleens. Awesome.

I have an interview in about an hour for another scholarship. Wish me luck.

see. it only gets better. i'm missing this and that sucks. and i will forever miss this. that's ok. between these photos and the movie The Rules of Attraction, my brain is officially fried before my Peace Corps interview in the morning. awesome.

this is why my life is livable. more later <3

My Mother Could Ruin History

Turkey Lurkey time is over. I was picked up by my step-dad on Tuesday so that I could go to Ikea with him and load up mom's new living room. Evidently one of the fat ass cats that my parents have (the have 3 cats, 1 dog) likes to piss on the couch. So, my mom wants a washable couch from Ikea. She also wanted to design her own entertainment center...so she did and had us pick it up. Basically, they brought me home for the holidays not for family time, but for free manual labor.

So, we got home where we had to move the old couch and chair downstairs, bring in the new furniture, and assemble it. My step-dad is similar to Phillip...a lazy computer-geek perfectionist. Thus, every book shelf and shelf that we put up or hung had to be level, and if it wasn't level we took out the brackets and leveled it again. But since he's lazy, I had to hold it up while he assembled it. It took us two days to get everything set up.

Then the grandparents came over and we had turkey day. Afterwards, we watched Star Trek (TNG, of course, it's a family tradition.) We watched an episode none of us had seen before (shocking, I know.) About ten minutes in, my mother says, "He didn't get her pregnant, the other guy did, and the jewel wasn't stolen, it's a gift for betrothal." 12 minutes later, all ST:TNG does is confirm my mother's spoiler. OMG, thanks for ruining it, mom. You see, this is why I hate movies, because whenever I watched them at home, my mom would peek her head in and tell me the ending, whether or not she'd watched it before. It some scary power of hers. It's how she knew when I had done something bad, whether or not I told her and whether or not I was even home yet. There was the time she called Kevin's mom and told her to tell me to come home because she wanted to ground me for what I had just done...and I was still at Kevin's house! To this day, she still scares me and I still think she can see everything I do. She's like fucking Sauron's Tower. The burning eye! No eyelids, for she never blinks, just a whirlpool of fire being devoured by the void that is her pupil.

That's it, I'm tired. Thought I'd tell you. I think my next post will be a rant about ugly people in porn.

A Post about Phillip

Phillip has gone missing for the moment. It always happens at least 3 times a year. The usual disappearance involves not answering the phone, scuttling off to some kin, and crotchety solitude of the highest order.

I his absence, I would like to recap all the things housed inside Phillip's ass.

1. An information Kiosk
-----How else are you going to get around? Phillip is so snippety about how you act inside his bum, that he has built an information kiosk where the receptionist inside sighs and scoffs at your every move. Entering Phillip's ass will give you long condescending stares about your smaller self that's just entered. Inside the information kiosk you can find...

2. Lost and Found
-----People lose a lot of things in Phillip's big A like their dignity, their self-esteem, and their hopes and dreams. You must give a detailed description of what you've lost to ever hope of getting it back. Expect sighs from the information kiosk guy during this process as well.

3. Produce Aisle Misters
-----Ever walk into a Kroger and hear "Kgchuw!" in the produce aisle and notice that suddenly, the carrots you were about to pick up are now getting dusted with water? Then you know about the produce aisle misters. Phillip had them installed in 1997 to keep his produce as fresh as possible. It's also great for keeping things like boudin balls nice and moist. All in all, this is what makes Phillip's bum a memorable stop on your welf to self destruction. Dont' forget to pick up commemerative shirts and buttons at the Phillip's A information kiosk on your way out.

I'm John Cusack

So, last night I went to a concert with a boy I met at Wild Mustang's last weekend. The concert wasn't actually his idea. His female friend was in love with this band called "Mates of State", a married couple who pay keyboard and drums together. As you can imagine, it was quite hipster. Thus, since this boy was getting dragged along, he though he'd spread the misery to me. Actually, the performance wasn't all that bad. Their voices were okay and they played their instruments well. It was just the music. Ugh. Whimsical nonsensical words strung together on top of hipster keyboard organ and drums, on top of the fact that you can't actually hear the lyrics half the time equals I don't know what the fuck you're singing about and I hate the beat. The only good thing about was drinking and watching hipster white people hop awkwardly about in attempt to dance. Oh, and watching straight guys in impossibly tight pants with those scarves that are popular trying to pick up drunk hipsterettes. People call gay folks stereotypical, but god damn I called every person in that place before we even got there.

At one point in the evening, this female friend said to me, "Do you know who you look like? You look like John Cusack."

Ladies and Gentlemen...that is a new one I haven't heard. At first, I didn't know how to take it. She assured me that if I were straight, that little fact could get me laid left and right. I'm still a little disturbed by it. John Cusack? The guy from "Say Anything"? (Ls and Gs, the "Say Anything"? is a perfect example of a rule of grammar long forgotten. If the content within the quotations does not contain a complete thought or sentence or verb, punctuation goes outside the quotation mark, not inside.)

In my search for John Cusack picture, I found the two above. The first is a more recent photo. The second is a much younger John Cusack, who even though I supposedly look like him, he looks like Shia LeBouf. Odd.

I Just Fell in Love with Another Cynic

Uncoached.com

Whoever created this little blog can have me whenever they want. I'm serious, they can call me up right now, I could be in the middle of class I don't care, they can have me. They can whisper sweet demeaning nothings in my ear or just get it over quick and dirty and then write horrible things about me. I'm fine with all of it.

This person or people hunt down every little Guido name Vinny or Mikey or Sergio or what-the-fuck-else-ever-half-Italian-named boy from the "Shore" on MySpace and comment on them. Basically, my dream job has already been taken. And they admit things at the beginning like "Alright, you have a good body, but why the pink lip gloss?" Ugh, love it! P.S. I absolutely love the pic on top. Blown out gelled hair, orange tan, shaved legs, torn up manpris, jacket with no shirt underneath, shades, diamond stud earrings...and my fav part...the shore in the background and the boardwalk below. Omg, so Jersey!

Please check the Guido part out titled "The Myspace Toolbox" here:
http://www.uncoached.com/category/the-myspace-toolbox/

Of Marriage and Georgienne

I know I have discussed American boys a lot, but I am "betrothed" to one boy, Mr. Georgienne. I think he is my soulmate. There's just one problem and the reason why we aren't together now: He's foreign. That's right, Alan enjoys only the most difficult of situations. He can't seem to get anything, no green card or student visa or anything. It's all too expensive a risk to basically play the lotto. There is an easier way, but it involves something that for now is impossible: marriage. You see, when you marry a foreigner, they sort of get your citizenship status. That is, they can live in the country with you. Sounds like a good plan, but there's a problem

You see, everyone keeps saying "you can get married in MA, that should be good enought for you." And true enough, I could, but there's just a tiny problem with it: They federal government doesn't recognize gay marriages and the federal government controls immigration, not the states. Thus, even if we were to marry in MA, Georgienne still couldn't live in the US on that.

This being my dilemma, i have actually paid a great deal of attention to the whole gay marriage issue in Cali and other states. It seems as though many people see the marriage issue like exercise, those that work out get the benefit of being healthy and looking good. And that if gays want to marry, they're going to have to work hard and build those relationship muscles. That's fine. Some people, however, think that gay people are amoebas and don't have muscles and therefore can't exercise and shouldn't be given the right to exercise. Even given the overwhelming evidence that we are not amoebas and we can have meaningful, healthy relationships, some people just don't want to give us the right to marry. It's damaging, I was going somewhere else with us, but I lost my point for the moment. I'm posting this, but it might get revised. I don't know. Just be scared that the "call boy" is thinking of serious relationships and marriage.

A Recap of the 13th

Okay, so I'm starting to forget this shit, but I'll try my best to remember all the details:

Character:
Pretty/Beautiful (P/B): Loves black men. Friend of DDD and MKO. Always dancing...very well I might add. Incredibly fun, but finds himself left out b/c his phone is always one the fritz, he works two jobs, and he no longer has a car.

Last Thursday, I get a call from DDD's phone, but it wasn't him. Seems him and P/B were hanging out and P/B wanted me to join. I was cool with the idea, but Jawsh was gone for the week, so I didn't have a way of getting there. P/B said he would ask DDD to come pick me up. About an hour goes by and finally I get a call. Seems the get together is turning into me, P/B, DDD, MKO, and MKO's ex and good friend...oh, and don't forget our dear friend vodka.

DDD and P/B come and pick me up. Let me remind you that everytime I've been on the phone, it's been DDD's number but P/B's voice. I get in the car (on the phone with Phillip at the time. Phillips is basically at these events.) I start talking to P/B we have fun gossiping and DDD interjects to the effect of "you guys are leaving me out of the conversation." DDD has not talked until now. Anyjew, we get to the place, start drinking and P/B and I play DDR while DDD goes and showers. MKO and his ex return from a night at club Opera. They've already been drinking. DDD now starts to consume a lot. (The rest of us do, too and P/B ends up flashing his pee pee at us...all on camera.) DDD gets trashed and holds my hand, but not b/c he likes me. He justs need help standing up. Drinking and debauchery ensue and soon I do the good old Alan thing and get tired. I tell DDD "I'm starting to crash." He stumbles off and returns with a pillow and blanket and places me and the provisions on the couch. I, drunkenly, ask "Why can't I stay in the bed?" to which he replies, "Because P/B is sleeping with me."

P/B gets this confused look but continues to dance. I crash...

Only to wake up to hot tranny mess. DDD is crying on my stomach, kneeling next to the couch on the floor. WTF? I inquire what is wrong and he says "I was puking and MKO wouldn't help me!" Note: everyone is asleep, including MKO. I further inquire why he did not seek either P/B (who is in his bed) or me for assistance. "That would be rude." he responds.
He pushes me deep into the couch and lays next to me where he continues to sob and say he is a worthless human being for some hours. I keep dozing in and out, muttering comforting phrases that after having several tragic friends have become a mantra I say whenever I hear someone sob. DDD then gets angry, slams doors and does the whoe childish act becaues MKO didn't help him and leaves for court.

This is not the first time I've been sent to the couch. I went hom with DDD (just me and him) after he got upset at a party b/c MKO was there. I watched a movie with him, comforted him (on his bed!) and kept him company. After he was comforted, he dismissed me from the bed to the couch. This boy also only texts me when he is sad or alone and doesn't talk to me otherwise, even when he's too drunk to stand, he doesn't converse.

I later found out that the reason the P/B talked on DDD's phone was b/c P/B wanted me there, but DDD didn't want to come get me. Talk about a fucking slap in the face. I have realized that this boy basically uses me as a shoulder to cry, but otherwise has no interest in me. All contact between us that is not sob story related is initiated by me.

And another thing, why am I attracted to fucked up, sob story boys who have no interest in me?

List of Characters

To start the post off, here is a comment I made while roomie was supergluing the tile he threw at me back on to the floor.

Roomie: "You know these tiles are peel n' stick."
Me: "That's fucking great. We pay $1100 a month and our kitchen floor is basically a set of press-on nails."

Sice Vita. Now, the list. I will give you the code name, abbreviation that will be used, a few hints as to who they are, and a description.

Roommate (Roomie): as in the person that I pay rent with and live with. From the very south of Georgia. Raised spoiled rich, still is, but is at least slowly learning how to use things. Has already mastered the washing machine and the dryer. Says things like "mash the remote"

Roomie's Boy (RB): as in the person my roomie is seeing or dating or flirting with, etc. RB or RB0 is the current one, we'll subtitle "stick and sweet" for those of you that have seen the Halloween picture. Current boy is incredibly quiet. Thus, not much to write about. RB's in general will work like dates. RB0 is the current one, any after will have a positive integer (a.d.). Those before him will be referred to with a negative integer (b.c).

Dot Dot Dash (DDD): This one is about as coded as they get (God, I'm hilarious.) A skinny semi-Phillip boy from the same town and is currently the roommate of Mary-Kate. Loves computer games and has a huge anti-social streak. His social ineptitude is only a problem when he has issues with someone else, as he doesn't know how to effectively have complex emotions about someone. They just make him fucking batshit crazy. I thought he was cute for about two weeks, until I realized I was just another shoulder for him to cry on and nothing else. Not even a friend.

Sugar Daddy (SD): Do you really need a definition. An old man I chill with. He doesn't actually give me cold hard cash. I keep him company and cook. He buys the food and occasionally gifts (like for my birthday.) Old men are attracted to me like a fucking magnet, so I just said, if you can't beat 'em, charge 'em.

Mary-Kate (MKO): Right now, the boy who sleeps in my bed occasionally, but nothing happens. I've had a lot of boys like that. He's funny, but lacks a lot of motivation. Not in the Phillip was of lacking motivation. Think stoner-esque. I wore his capri pants for Halloween (huge clue). He a real "beam" of sunshine sometimes, but also can have a lot of drama around him. Encourage roomie to drink more.

Patel ######## (Patel): You can tell form the name a little about this one. Obviously goes to Ga. Tech and is obviously some sort of engineer (biological, chemical, efficiency...) Of course, loves the sciences and those that are involved with the sciences.

Georgienne: Mah boo! I really can't say much about this one because of his situation, location, and the fact that he appears in no pictures, not even as a friend on FB. I actually have a lot of friends that are not my friend on FB, even when they have accounts. It's called "some subsets of friends don't want to be associated with the gay because of their location and culture." Otherwise known as "although my friends aren't homophobic, their relatives and friends are, meaning even association creates problems for them that they shouldn't have to face and I'm sorry if anyone ever has any pain due to the subset of people I fuck."

There are others, as they come up, I will give an intro like this one.

A Most Vivid Dream

I know I haven't really posted about my tranny-licious weekend yet. I have to package it for writing first and let hindsight help me in a few of the situations. I also have to write a guide to code-names, much like the beginning of my thesis, which consists of names of reagents (people), their abbreviations, and their characteristics. First, I must write you of this dream I had, because it was so real, I woke up this morning thinking it had actually happened.

The dream starts off with Phillip and I travelling in I don't really remember where. The details are fading from my memory as I type. We're being Phillip and Alan as usual, laughing, judging, eating. We are in some country where my languages are of no use and neither are my international contacts. It's all up to Phillip and the thousands of language bits he has accumulated over the years. i don't think Phillip can say "hello" in Farsi, but he can probably say "I was once married to a tranny prostitute." War breaks out and Phillp and I are quickly thrown into "Omg, wtf, tranny" chaos. We begin running and make it to the border, cross it and are somehow in Sakartvelo. My territory. I instantly call up some contacts. We stay in Tbilisi about a day and quickly move our way up Georgia until we hit Poti.
We catch a boat to the Crimea and welcome ourselves to Ukraine. Evidenly Ukraine is in utter chaos as well and we, as hated Americans, find ourselves moving slowly through towns by cautiously running through old, maze-like buildings. This part of the dream was like an FPS, where you have several types of guns and can blow people away with napalm, but can't use that same napalm to bust open a wooden door. That is, everydoor Phillip and I came to was locked and we had to find a way to open it. We couldn't just kick in these doors, there were puzzles. I'm always confused by this. It's as though trees one day took the whole "Only you can prevent forest fires" slogan to heart and became fire resistant. I'm sure the headline that day read "Sparks Fly as Nature Decides It Is No Longer Flammable: Boy Scouts, Campers Panic". With wood no longer burning, a whole new industry arises, as trannies would now have to sell their old busted wigs as kindling. You know nothing in those weaves in natural. I like that idea, it's a great way to recycle and keep trannies fresh. I digress. Phillip and I finally make it through Ukraine. Instead of heading West, though, Phillip and I find ourselves in St. Petersburg.
Don't ask why or how, this is a dream, remember? The FPS haze disappears, and suddenly everything is brightly lit. Phillip and I are running through the crowded streets, trying to find the train station to hit up Moscow. Eventually, we find ourselves on the Trans-Siberian rail heading for Vladivostock. The train is lovely and Phillip and I are in Slav heaven. From there, we catch a boat to Japan and a flight to the US.

Two things I cannot stress enough about this dream:
1. It was so real. It had smells, sights, touch, sound. I felt things like fatigue, fear, et al.
2. It was Phillip and I together, running through the motherland is an apocalyptic destruction of society. Aka, although nightmare sounding, it was really a fantasy.

Thank You, Random Marta Bus Driver

Dear Marta Bus Driver,

Today I got on your bus, and it was already full, so I stood by the second door. You know the one I'm talking about. It's midway on the bus, before the steps to the upper level. Even the tiny Tbilisi gypsy busses have this second door. It's not some new fangled idea. I stood next to this door because there were not seats for me and I needed a place to stand. I did not do this because I had some agenda of being the first one off the bus. I didn't hate you then. I started hating you when we pulled into the bus round-about. The Cholitos/as began to swarm the second door, effectively squashing me against it. You stopped the bus and I heard the front door open, but the green light above the second door never turned on and the door did not open, even though the pressure behind me was mounting, as each cholito began to push harder in an attempt to leave the bus to ride the train. I yelled out to the crowd, "The door is closed." And then in broken Spanish, "La puerta no abra." You, Mr. Bus Driver, yelled "Use the front door, I don't want to open the back one. I heard the southbound train pull into the station as the pressure increased even more. I know my broken Spanish is not the best, but I thought my sentence was clear. Still the Cholita flood was not subsiding. Finally, the collective conscience of the crowd had an epiphany, and the front door was quickly used. As I walked by you, Mr. Bus Driver, I took mental notes on your appearance. Your image has been burned into my memory as the man who wouldn't ope the second door. I lept out of the bus, only to find that the train had already left the station. Five minutes ticked by and a southbound train did arrive, but never stopped. It was bound for "Out of Service", a popular station for Marta trains to head (an equally popular station for Marta busses is "Out of Service/Bus Barn".) After ten minutes of waiting, a fully operational southbound train rolled into the Lindbergh Center and I was on my way. You made me miss the train...for no good reason. I had no time to ask you why, as I still had a tiny glimpse of hope that I could make it through the "Breeze Gates", slide down the stairs, and be whisked away by the train in time. I should have, though. I should have asked. It's too late and now you are forever burned into my memory as "Mr. Bus Driver who hates Alan". I hope you can live with this.
Cordially,
Alan