Thursday, March 16, 2006

The virtual epinw anniversary fete is being masterminded as this is being blogged and You are invited, fercrissakes. Five years. That is a semi-narrative feat if You ask Yours Truly.
Gleaned some slammin' new pharmaceutical rep pens at last night's gig, one is that Euro sort of pen that You just cannot find in this USofA sans help of over-eager men all giddy about some new pill.
Shot this year's Match Day, the day that all the med students learn their fate, where they will be residents for the next X amount of years. Only had one bummer, a guy who got his third choice. Lots of screams, fists in the air, good, solid reaction shots. Oh, the other bummer was when pre-event-start I saw the Middling City's former parks der commissar, Dan Durawa, and his wife and they offered me up a snack off their snack platter and, to not be rude, I grabbed the least of the worries. I had no idea what any of the brown ovals were... I bit into it. It was one of those cheese-stuffed jalapeƱo pepper poppers. I warbled out a Merci and moved along.
After the matching I headed back to the car that I had hidden around the corner in another of my special, invented parking spots. Suddenly I was stricken with a grand idea: Get this horrid haircut fixed up. And so I did. And it is. Now it is on its auburn way to being long and longer and in solid, non-annoying shape. The woman who cut it marveled at the work of the former stylist, wondering where he found sense in all the non-layered layers.
She actually knew the incompetent who cut my hair. She said Yeah, he likes to say that he studied at Bumble and Bumble but he studied at Continental School of Beauty on Kenmore Avenue.
Onwards to more fine moments now now now.

Love now, Love later.

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