Me and Stephen? We’re all four Bob the Angry Flower book buddies.
He didn’t say anything about how cool my name is, but he did claim that I a) rock, b) rock and rule, and c) rule. So that was happy.
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Me and Stephen? We’re all four Bob the Angry Flower book buddies.
He didn’t say anything about how cool my name is, but he did claim that I a) rock, b) rock and rule, and c) rule. So that was happy.
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Caitlan was here over the weekend, and I wasn’t a very good host, but it was good to hang out with her again. I’d like to say we went to the circus and fought ninjas, but actually we mostly did homework. We did have some bright spots, though, including Caitlan’s cooking of the first fried green tomatoes I’ve actually liked, and Caitlan’s assistance of Ian and me in our attempt to buy wedding clothes–a grueling journey that involved going to one store, then going to another store right next to it. Okay, it wasn’t actually grueling. It’s harder to find dress shirts with French cuffs than you’d think, though.
Caitlan is doing very well at Georgetown, on track to go to Oxford (Oxford!) for a couple of years, like I never got to do. In fact, she’s already been once, though only for a week. I instructed her over the weekend on the fact that, if she does go and gets the accompanying degree, she’s allowed to trump basically any argument against her by saying “Ah ah! Oxford.” It is also street legal to respond to any attempt at countering this trump with a back-handed slap.
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Weirdly, the domain for defunct startup magicbeanstalk.com now redirects to the Amazon Harry Potter subsite.
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This one’s for Ian, Arbitrator of Manliness:
Friends nonplussed, say this is “typical”
I thought about exaggerating that for humorous effect, but it really doesn’t need it. Also, apparently I’m Fark today.
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I just read my favorite girlsarepretty ever. I think the reason I like it so much is it’s like the best parts of GAP, plus choice morsels of Stephen, Leonard and Cody Powell. I want to write like that.
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I used to think I was immune to the vicious, voyeuristic impulse that makes most people like reality shows so much, but it turns out I was wrong.
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