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10:03 am | 25 October 2004 | left hooked

my sweetlings, i am back from the new york gritty. yesterday we spent five hours in an irish sports bar watching the baseball game and being bought (well me, anyway) positive buckets of jameson by be-ponytailed grand prix watchers who really NEED to stop touching my back. anyhow. while i attempt half-assedly to pull my shit together, may i direct you to fengi whereupon you shall find a little exercise in ridiculousness de moi, and also remind you that over at UDvCLM there is, despite all apparent odds, still some action, and then below is an email excerpt from the still-threatening-ineffectively-to-get-a-blog YMAW (w/r/t/w please leave a comment if you likey, since i think he's just a little potty-shy, being used to the magnificent likes of UD and myself) that manages to convey exactly the magnitude and effervescence of the business portion of my trip, except append "dragging a no-shit sixty pound suitcase full of original chromes" onto it. and finalmost, may i also tempt you with the promise that within the workday i will manage to scan and post my mom in the Best. Halloween. Costume. Evar, but until then, you'll have to content yourselves with Minesweeper and furtive nose-picking, my deskbound sweethearts. clm.

. . . . . .

"I hope your "holiday" hasn't been entirely ass-tastic, though there are many who believe that business travel should be banned by the Geneva Convention ('cause we need one more thing to ignore) so perhaps your trip really has been a steaming platter of ass (bowl of dick...platter of ass -- depending on what's in season). Prisoners in Guantanamo Bay will now be asked to fly cross-country, stay in shitty hotels, and eat food that makes it impossible to poop for days at a time. They will also be forced to drink expensive, watered-down drinks in shitty wood-paneled basement "lounges" whilst being doubleteam hit-on by both the slicked-hair parolee with the carefully honed beer-goggle-friendly smile, tiny penis, and pro-abstinence-pamphlet's-worth-of-STDs bartender, and the something-is-fragrantly-and-actively-rotting-in-my-mouth breathed, bad sport coat wearing "oh, hey, what's that behind your ear?" magic trick as pick-up line janitorial supplies salesman from Idaho (I HEART POTATOES!) leering dangerously at them from the end of the bar. Finally, they will be "regrettably" bumped from the already over-booked flight onto yet another over-booked flight that leaves 3 hours later (from the terminal so far on the other side of the airport that the desk clerks might as well speak Taiwanese), only to be pushed, puked on, and pummeled by some Baby-Neiman-jumper-ensemble-wearing trust-fund toddler who just happens to be off his Ritalin again and whose teething ring also just happens to cost more than your plane ticket. And today's in-flight movie? "My Giant" starring Billy Crystal."

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