You know something's up when your teeth start holding elections, and the red states win. Or when your friends start to resemble wonton soup and Ravini (who is like Houdini but can only work magic with ravioli).
The last 36 hours have just been a preview. Nicole should call me this week. It's on the schedule. That would finish it off. If she's going to pick a week to randomly call me, and ask me to be her lover or something equally off-the-wall, it's sure as hell going to be this one.