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Vengeance is a dish best served with chocolate and glitter.

And maybe a tickle fight with Vin Diesel.

I may have mentioned my dulcet colleague before: Boo Boo Kitty Fu. Actually, I know I have. Just using a bad rhetorical device there.

The real “internal memos” entre nous.

Boo Boo Kitty Fu has a job I hate. I have done that job. I hate that job. It’s all hers now, until she abandons me. And for many reasons, I love her as only an introvert who’s shared space with a colleague for a cumulative 5 hours over two years can: with chocolate and glitter.

You see, BBKF loves chocolate bars, particularly KitKats. She was having a bad day and I begged a friend (who wants to remain anonymous so I’ll call her Jane) to send Boo Boo Kitty Fu some KitKats and a plethora of turquoise glitter as a surprise. What are surprise chocolate bars without a surfeit of glitter?



Empty as the promises just before he… well, you get the idea.

Glitter says “I love you.”

Jane gets it. She loves Bowie so her affinity to glitter rock naturally leads to glitter.

You’ve heard of those people sending glitter bombs? Who hasn’t? Jane provides a friends-only service for love-glitter, not hate-glitter. But I suppose whether you get bombarded with the herpes of the craft world by love or hate, you still have a mess to clean. Aye, there’s the rub.

Kitty is out to get me.

See? Did I lie?

Unlike me, Boo Boo Kitty Fu keeps a clean house.

That hot smexy love which only to introverted agoraphobic colleagues can share? It’s gone. Replaced with calculated vengeance.

But my love was pure, I argued. Boo Boo Kitty Fu is undeterred. She will have her pound of flesh.

I’m no stranger to rhetoric though. I’ve read Bloom County and know all about the Giant Purple Snorklewacker in Michael Binkley’s closet. You know that creature? The one sending his anxiety dreams? Binkley tries to distract, asking for Victoria Principal (it was the 80s), ya gotta admire him. Inspired by his bravery, I could do no worse.

Perhaps I’ve shared a bit more about me than you’d care to know (and perhaps my husband would care to know, except for the trussing part, Sweetie, you can pay attention to that… Eric Northman is dead to me. Snicker.)

It occurred to me, then, that love was fleeting: as ephemeral as the cleanliness of a floor before the glitter lands. Boo Boo Kitty Fu was fickle. Or perhaps she was playing me for more KitKats (minus the glitter)? Had she moved on to Coffee Crisp? Could I ply her with a long-lost favourite, Bar Six, apparently reborn as the Crispello?

Treat yourself. This will take you to YouTube for a vintage Bar Six commercial.

Or was she just tinkled because I trashed her vestibule with my effusive love? The next morning, her tone changed.

Come to think of it, who wouldn’t want a spanking from Owen Wilson? Sometimes auto-correct DOES know better.

Had the refined sugar and milk chocolate mellowed her wrath? Or is she lulling me into a false sense of security? Only time will tell. 

And for the record, in case you’re reading this, Boo Boo Kitty Fu? Tickle fights with Vin Diesel are right out. Especially if either of us is covered in almond oil.


What am I reading this week?

Hard to say. I’m a judge in the InD’tale Magazine’s 2015 RONE Awards so I can’t really go there. But I have reviews coming up on LOVExtra.com for Collette Cameron, Xio Axelrod, Jessica Cale, and Linda Joyce


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