I just realized tonight that I think I may be a curse on Lynnda.

I moved here, and,

• Her favorite bar announces they'll be closing, indefinitely, and moving to an undisclosed location in a few weeks -- but then there's a homicide on their front porch, so perhaps they won't be announcing where it is they're moving to.

• Club Nastyrack burns to the ground before we have a chance to get drunk and go get Nasty Lap Dances.

• One of her favorite homosexuals announces he'll be moving to Florida.
  

Do you have any more dreams you would like me to crush, Lynnda? Perhaps I can arrange to hasten the death of joy.