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February 18, 2009



Oh for Eris's sake: just LIE and tell them you have Robert Pattinson's private cell # and for a "suitable fee" you'll post it ASAP. It's not like we're dealing with Facebook users or even--boy does this date me--MSMessenger geeks!
Or you can tell them that you're ASHAMED of what you've seen here and you're going to tell each of their moms the moment you haul out your Iphone.

uneasy rhetoric

Hey, the pictures looked like an all-ages crowed. And I think it was a cafe. But I would have had to take my kid, and that would not have been good.


I went to a Tweetup in Half Moon Bay last Fall. I normally don;t like parties but... I already _knew_ these people (many of them). And then I met others and... It was really a lot of fun.

Go to the next one. :-)


I wanted to go, but I was fretting over work instead. I'll probably attend the next one.


What is UP with those red hat people....seriously. It's like resigning yourself to dentures, Geritol, and old age.


Maybe I'd go to a meetup if I knew I'd see a few faces I already know from the 3-D world. I dunno. Maybe I'm shy. Or maybe I'm just a terminal grump.

And don't get me started on the red hats. I thought the point of the poem was that when you get old, you should feel free to explore unconventionality, even if it clashes (with the rest of society). Why on Earth did legions of women take this to mean they should strive to dress _exactly alike_? You know if they dress alike and organize alike, they're also inevitably thinking alike. The poem's message about individuality is now completely, and ironically, ignored.


Why? Because all their originality was sucked out of them by pouty, Abercrombie-dressed tweenage vampires! Up next: my rasta Zombie fest "Sean of the Dreads" and its alternative lifestyle companion piece "28 Gays."

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