First of all: today was Friend #3's birthday, and I spaced. So, in an effort to redeem myself, maybe you could leave her some birthday felicitations, either here or on her blog at pitchererror.blogspot.com.
Still, today's first story features Friend #3, maybe that will make up for my lack of attention.
Robert Taylor Returns
I went to lunch with Friend #3, and two others, not as a birthday acknowledgment (because I forgot) but just out to the local Pasta House. As we were waiting to pay at the cashier, #3 leaned over and muttered, "There's a guy over there. He's that guy we saw at Marciano's. The guy with his own plaque. Robert Taylor."
Robert Taylor was the man with his own plaque at Marciano's, which Hot Mom tried her best to steal, only to be interrupted by the Man himself. It's all chronicled here.
I said, quietly at first, "Huh, I wonder if that man is" (yelling) "ROBERT TAYLOR."
He looked up. I walked over and demanded to know if he was Robert Taylor. He confessed he was. And I said, "Hi. You may not remember, but we tried to steal your plaque." I gestured at #3 when I said "We," but she had dropped out of sight. Truly, it was as if she vaporized.
He remembered the whole story. He in particular remembered Hot Mom (aka #2), and he even remembered we worked for a training company. He related a very accurate version of the story to his friends, then gave an update: Marciano's changed ownership, kept his plaque, and never put it back up. So he's frequenting Pasta House now.
The Return of Cassata, the Puppy Without an Asshole
I had some e-mail correspondence with #4 today, who, while neglecting to mention it was #3's birthday, did give an update on Cassata, the Puppy Born Without an Asshole. Number 4 reports:
"Some woman saw the dog on the web page early on and felt an immediate connection to it (perhaps she, too, was born without?). She followed the story via the web page and contacted the rescue group as soon as the dog became available for adoption. They were a good match and the dog is doing well."
"Born without." My friends kill me. You'd think I'd remember their birthdays.