Saturday, January 17, 2009

a baby was being passed around at a party as a game where you had to describe how it smelled. the person who lost had to climb down the fire escape and buy everyone a fish sandwich. then we watched 9 to 5 and read Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. we decided to form a club, dues were to be paid in the foreign currency you always bring home with you from abroad because you just couldn't spend every last penny at the airport like you hoped.

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