The mens were in force like an army of locusts this weekend, laying waste to the crops and eating their own heads, and we don t care whether locusts actually eat their own heads or not. We shall not back down from such a vibrant metaphor.
Men are so transparent.
But the danger passed, as danger does, except when it kills you instead in terrible, terrible ways. And so, on Feb. 18, the men came forth from their hiding places and converged on the Swallow s Inn in San Juan Capistrano and began their grabbing and leching and general unpleasantness. The Swallow s is almost never boring. We were by our lonesome, which is really never a good idea at the Swallow s, but our lovely and talented sister had chosen to fall asleep on someone s couch instead of showing herself in San Juan. But our solitary state was the most irksome invitation to manhandling.