Let us be frank: for practical purposes, there was but one article on the Toast this week:

“It’s not a big deal,” he said kindly, accepting the phone from her and inspecting it closely several times over to make sure there was no damage. “Not compared to, say, the war crimes of George W. Bush. Elizabeth, was it? I’m Ted. I think you can let this one slide.”

We also had a wealth of wonderful essays from Temporary Nicole Samantha Powell, who is taking her leave of us today. Although it is my hope she will stop by from time to time, if she can find the time once she’s birthed Black Jesus.

We identified with Zoidberg, and to a lesser extent Kif. We scared ourselves in Canada, we talked about depression, we got kidnapped by our dads to go camping in hell, and we finally learned what the astronomers have been up to lately.

I can’t stand it. Nothing makes sense without Nicole. I’m bored and I’m lonely and I haven’t answered any of my emails and nothing’s any good, I’m just a mess, I think when all this is over we should get an apartment together. COME BACK.