George Michael was packed, ready to go. Funny how he only had two suitcases. A pack rat he was not.

He was sitting on the couch, hands resting on his thighs, thinking of Mary and wondering how she would be after he's gone. He thought good. She was strong and she loved him; she would be fine.

He thought briefly of Joanna and his first sexual ( Read more... )

George Michael had Mary's gifts wrapped and sitting in a large red bag by his luggage. They were leaving tonight to go home, to his his home. With all of his family. George Michael was not worried. Not really. Mary was his girlfriend and if he had to pop Uncle GOB in the eye to keep him from looking at her, in that way, then he would. He was sure ( Read more... )

It was a groggy, weary George Michael that fell into his bed Saturday night. He had no idea divorcing one's wife could take so long. The whole family was there. Because, well, they were Maeby's family too and that awkwardness took a toll on him that lasted all week long.

He was relieved, yes, but drained of any kind of engergy. Before he crashed he' ( Read more... )

 George Michael was flipping through the channels on the TV, trying really just to find something that was more or less background noise. He was too nervous to concentrate on watching anything right now and he paced back and forth, biting his nail occassionally and glancing at the clock.

[ooc: expecting a certain lady friend in a tidy French Maid ( Read more... )