"And, Hundreds of Nude Women on Display. Next at Eleven."

This was actually the commercial lead-in for the news the other day. I find it way to low-key.Why didn't the anchor just go, "I'll be ripping the still-beating heart out from the chest of the weather guy and eating it before his anguished eyes live on the air, next at eleven"? It was a story about some artist (coughcoughpervertcoughcough) in New York City who amassed all these naked women in Grand Central Station to take their picture. He did not pay them, but, on the upside for everybody, I was not present.

As always, I am left with many questions: 1) You know what, no I'm not. Nothing surprises me anymore. As my lawyer friend Flip (not Flipper my Rollerblading partner-- totally different hair, totally different genders) said last night, "When you can't trust the heroin dealers anymore, who can you trust?"


October 28, 2003

Mary Beth is an introvert.

She is eager to communicate but prefers doing so via email, a giant stage, or intense conversation about Important Things.

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