cell love

you've got voice mail:

To sum up my time in the Denver airport: First, the cancelled and/or missed flight. Then, the overbooking. Then, the shuttle ride with several thousand smokey-drunk fellow United passengers trying to get to Philly. Then, A PLANE HIT A DEER. I'm at the hotel now. Whatever. Tequila and tonic?

My friends are now using Lost plotlines in real-as-life sitches.

Wrap up: Good weekend, lots of food, and adorable babies. Black Keys had three encores, my hamstrings were tight and I ended up leaning against the bar like an 85 year old with chronic hump-backness. We got a peck of apples yesterday, maybe I'll learn to make pie crust.

Okkervil River! Tonight! I'll be up front.

PS: I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.