I ate Christian.

I've been soooooo hungry the past few weeks. In need of a fix, I called up friends Randall Simon and Six-Fingered Alfonseca and we went down to southern Cali to fix us a proper feast. Some chianti... some fava beans... and some Roast de Ruz.

Rumor has it he may be regurgitated some time in the next few days, and that his trip through the land of stomach acid has something or another to do with "travel" and "work" and other such abstract principles. Don't you buy it! I ate him, plain and simple.

And good thing I did, too. For hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or a Christian who must witness a season of Neifi.