Though I live in the state that elected Bush by the largest margin of any place in the country (71% for hell’s sake!), I’ve decided I’m over being depressed, I’m over being pissed, I’m even over being annoyed. And I’m not moving to Canada.

Italy, maybe. Or Greece. But not Canada. If I’m moving, it’s gotta be warmer than Utah.

Anyway, Patrick and I went to a great dinner party this weekend thrown by our friends Mark and Mike. We love Mark and Mike and had a lot of fun, as always, and all this talk of moving to another country reminded me of one of my favorite stories about those two boys. I hope I remember it accurately enough to tell it:

A few years ago, Mike was running in the St. George (Utah) marathon and Mark went along to cheer him on at the finish line. Now, Mike is … a character. He’s always got a line or an act or something to make people take notice. You learn to just wait for things to come out of his mouth. Mark is just as damn funny, but his humor’s dry and relatively quiet and you never expect him to say what he does.

Anyway, as an exhausted Mike approached the finish line, he saw Mark proudly, but reservedly, cheering from the sideline. So Mike runs over to Mark, throws his arms around him and, in the middle of hundreds of conservative southern Utahns, kisses him and squeals and pretty much ensures all-around that everybody sees these two grown men making a scene near the end of the marathon.

During the show, the boys overheard one of the nearby kids say to his mother, “Mommy, those two men are kissing!” and the flustered Mom replied, “Oh honey, they’re just European.”