GSP? GST? GPS?

Every January comes with a full load of psychic abilities. Not sure why it happens, but Lady of the Lake can attest to some psychic dreams too.

Sometimes, my spidey-sense works things out by sorting them categorically in life. Revealed this time as coincidence.

I am a wife and mother. I don't watch UFC fighting. Not that I can't keep up with all these modern day ways of punching each other's lights out. Me, personally? I would prefer to throw upper cuts at my husband's jaw on the Wii. So, home comes *Steve* yesterday with his story of GSP. "Georges St. Pierre. He's French, you know." Thank you *Steve*. I suppose you're going to tell me that the Bloc Quebecois speak French too. GSP is some welterweight or middleweight punching, biting, scratching, kicking, hitting guy. After hearing this story, which boils down to not much other than a co-worker being compared to GSP and being called GCB (or something of the like), I decide to melt this out of my mind. But wait, not going to happen. After accepting a Facebook invitation yesterday from a baby brother of a classmate of mine from grade school, I decide to flip through his photos on Facebook. And there he is with GSP, shaking hands. Yes, the UFC dude. Maybe this GSP guy gets around. Maybe men watch too much fighting on tv. Maybe my Facebook friend is a GSP stalker? Maybe, I should get a GPS and find my way out of this.

signed, the willow