Eggplant and parmasean

I hate this bizzare fondue-fork wound on my hand. It looks ick.
Tonight was another slow blah night at work, where Melissa and I stood around and talked about how strange it is to be us sometimes. Eric and Jon came up again, in another one of those "old flame" discussions.
Pete's bringing all of his VHS tapes up here. He says it's because he wants me to quit watching the same six movies over and over again, but it's really because he doesn't want them in his living room anymore. I can see through him, oh yes I can.
Jonas is gone, and I have to wonder where this is going to make us all end up. Maybe the boys will get a place up here come the end of summer, and then we can all move to Seattle like a small but happy family. I like Jonas, we talk about books. I don't know what happened with the movie being optioned. I'll have to remember to ask about that tonight. I'd like it if they sold the script, but I do not want to move to LA.
"What's in the box?"
"There's a McGuffin in the box."
"Oh really? What's a McGuffin?"
"A McGuffin is an apparatus for trapping lions in the Scottish Highlands."
"But Scotland doesn't have any lions."
"Well, then, there's no McGuffin in the box."