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Who can switch to Dolly Parton from Guns 'N Roses without a thought? JK can! Anyway, I ate at the fancy-pants Eurocafe where my brother serves. I admit it, it was awesome. I got a chicken piandini pizza, whatever that means.
I met Greg's new girlfriend. She's foxy in a "Too Bad You're Not Catholic" sort of way. She said she gave up on church, whatever that means. She's funny and very nice. She only swears occasionally, and I don't think she minds that I am quite observant. Oh, and she's Republican! No wonder he didn't think it was long-term. Commie.
Her name's Maureen. [What is she, 85?--ed.] No, jerk. We had a good time chatting about how I've gone from, "I'd rather vote for Santorum's kitty-cat than you" to, "How many times do you want the lawn mowed, Mr. Romney?" Apparently, Greg had never heard that Obama and the old Democratic Congress spent more money in a year than that paragon of fiscal virtue, George W. Bush, (sarcasm) spent in 8. And no, the wars don't even it out. I wanted to focus on the fiscal issues, because she's nice. No reason to start a fight. She's a keeper, to me. He might not want to commit, but they are addicted to each other. And he's too good a person to just leave. I think God will drown him in grace until he surrenders. I just hope he surrenders.

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