Friday, March 17, 2006


sick. again. my goal today is to eat enough citrus fruit and Halls Defense drops that i'm pissing pure vitamin C.

no plans for st. paddy's day: i'd rather put a bullet in my head than drink right now. the last time i really put the liver to the test was our company christmas party (of course) in orlando (florida sucks, except for the oranges) in february (because christmas-in-feb makes perfect sense to us).

the party took place in our hotel, which gave everyone license to get purely shit-faced. ppl got voluble, saliva sprayed, fights broke out and general mayhem ensued. the only only ppl who kept their wits about them were the folks with cameras -- which is why i can peer above my right monitor and see tacked on the wall a pic of me, in my little black dress, holding something that looks like a tequila sunrise (erk) and giving my boss a big ole smackeroo on the cheek. above my stalwart employer's head someone has scribbled pimpin' ain't easy.


get thee gone, Yellow Phlegm!

ken bruen contributes an Eats column to this week's City Paper, rocketing it up ten-zillion notches in my estimation. nowhere to be found in galway, bruen pops up in philly. silly oirish.

re: drinking, above: NEVERMIND.

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