"Thank you for a semester (two really) of soul-crushing criticism. We will miss you; our bruised egos will not."
Did I happen to mention that my job rocks?
"I must confess I laughed. I was listening to the radio and every weekday around 14:30 they let people call in and suggest a song that fits with the chosen news of the day. Today's theme was, the American that was murdered (beheaded) in Iraq.~ the irrepressible doortje.
One guy, phones in and suggests..."Basement Jaxx :: Where's Your Head At".
You could hear the DJ splutter in the background. Ah, my fellow countrymen, who have the IQ of a doorknob and even less subtlety."
Good. Because otherwise, an otherwise romantic evening would turn into a long night involving metal creaking, fabric tearing, people screaming, joints bending in directions they were never meant to go, desperatly attemping to dial *911, the jaws of life, at least two insurance companies, physical thearpy, and a front page post on Fark, complete with "dumbass" tag.