kari and i went to dinner and then went shopping. we were both in a bitchy crappy mood that could only be cured by italian food, wine, and girlie things.

after dinner and before heading to victoria’s secret, i poured my heart out to her. i told her all about the boy i’m secretly pining after and who just might like me right back. i told her about the awkwardness of liking someone from the internet. i told her how i didn’t tell her for so long because we always made fun of diane for meeting her hubby on the internet.

“i am diane,” i said.
“you are not diane,” she said.
“yes, yes i am,” i said.
“no, you don’t have clips of you singing karaoke on your web site.”
“next week i probably will!”

she, of course, handled it all with extreme grace and told me that i wasn’t a big giant fruitcake at all– even though i think she might be a bit skeptical still.