Over a year ago, when I were still whacking quillboars in the Barrens, a bunch of young blood elves joined me guild. I suggested that maybe I oughts ta slow down me leveling and let them catch up. Well, that produced indignations. They's gonna catch me just fine. One young warlock said "You best get those hoofs polished and greased you are indeed being chased!"
Hooves? Hooves??? I politely reminded her I was an orc, not a tauren.
"ok, polish whatever needs polishing and grease whatever needs greased"
Um, yeah. Whatevers. Well, she never did catch me, but we ended being good friends anyhows. Flash forward to this just past weekend. I's got me dwarf disguise on, felling all refreshed after me date with Jaina, and one of me guildies starts talkin' trash at me. She's just gotten to Outland, and wants to know why the hey I ain't caught up to her so's we can go Fel Reaver tipping together. Is me hat slipping down over me eyes? Is I tripping on the hem of me dress? (Well, to be honest, this running about in a dress is pretty awkward and I does trip on the hem occasionally. But that's beside the point.) Why I so slloooowwwwww??????
So, here's the deal (as defined entirely by her): She's gonna go rest her caboose in an inn fer approximately one billion days. At which point I'd better have caught up. Or else. As of today I's at level 43, and I has 999,999,999 days, give or take, to get to 58. Or 60. Or whichever.
'Scuse me. I's gonna go polish me hooves.