Oh no more people no more food, please. I�m finished. My plates all filled up. So�s my dance card. Oh, and just to remind anyone who may have forgotten: I am not a nice person. I�m not. I�m a jerk. I have, really, no qualms about alienating nearly the entire world. You might think that I would be worried about the conflict inherent in such an attitude, but I find that the jerk only comes out when provoked, (remember I�m also a big grouchy winter bear) and those times? I�m glad I can stick up for myself. I�m glad I roar when poked with a stick. Don�t you poke me. You.

Lunch today, at the new yum yum Mexican restaurant, was an amusing affair as long as I pretended I was Jane Austen, wryly observing the ridiculous foibles of the human race. Many ridiculous people work in my department.

Edward: [shouting] While some may call my interest in Tolkien obsessive, I call it scholarship.

MJ: [meek and nervous and obstinate and obnoxious] What is a quesadilla? Is it spicy? What is an enchilada? Is it spicy? I won�t eat spicy. I�m not a fan of Mexican food. What is guacamole? Is your chicken salad normal? I didn�t pick this restaurant. I'm not really a fan of this kind of food.

The New Guy (who! sat! right! across! from! me! ugh!): [said whilst pounding his fist against his chest, much like a gorilla] I call this bear weather!

Edward: [still shouting still, explaining why he takes a full day off work when certain movies are released] The first time I watch it, I just let all the pain wash over me. I see all the horrible things that idiot Peter Jackson has done to my books. The second and third times I am just trying to accept what�s happened. The fourth time I can usually get some small bit of enjoyment out of the experience. Who is Peter Jackson? He�s nobody.

Me [gouging eyes out with a plastic spoon]

Oh lord grant me some peace. I cannot wait to go home, to lie down, to be with Bash and Harold and Miss Blue. I will lie down and I will let my brain float away because who needs it anymore.