I will do incredibly foolish things. Just so I have amusing conversation fodder and things to write on my blog. That, ladies and gentlemen, is how pathetic I am.

But. Moving on. I get a call from my oldest sister this morning while I am drinking coffee from a teacup, eating raspberry jam cake and listening to soft jazz diligently working, she says:

"So, I have this guy I work with who wants to go out with you."

Instead of asking logical questions like: Why does he want to go out with me? Does he even know who I am? What lies did you tell about me? How the hell did he hear about me? I remain silent. She continues:

"Yes. I told him you were a major bitch. He says he likes a challenge."

At this point, it sounds moderately amusing, but not terribly interesting until she says:

"He drives an Escalade. And he is kind of young."

An ESCALADE? The ONLY reason this makes it sounds interesting is people who drive this paticular SUV seem to take great pride in this. They also like tinted windows, loud music and lots of bling. Something I would take great delight in mocking for a entire date. I mention this small detail to her.

"I know, I know. I TOLD him you were a major bitch and have no problem shredding people. But he is cool with that."

At this point, I am laughing hysterically. What am I thinking? I agree to meet this guy, with the potential of going out with him. My only stipulations are it needs to well-lit, drug-free and on gang-neutral turf.

For the sake of a story... my little sister was raped, chopped into a thousand little pieces and scattered around town.

If I die, you all can fight out the blogging rights.