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baby legs and victor's horses

I'm going to retire, I swear to god. Or maybe go on hiatus. Last night I was standing in Siberia, dying for a redpoll as I zoned out while listening to Atlanta band Snowden. Obviously it wasn't their fault that they had to go on at 2 am or that the sound in Siberia is so fucking godawful... I just couldn't concentrate. Too much on Nora's mind.

Upstairs there was a blogger lovefest going on in the form of Lindsay from Lindsayism's birthday. I always feel very weird about recognizing people from their weblogs (unless I'm drunk and then I'll scream OH MY GOD IT'S YOU! BRIAN I KEEP A DIARY DOT COM!!!! I LOVE YOU!).

The best part was when a girl who was at Best Tuesday Ever this week told me that we have made Tuesdays the new Fridays, which obviously doesn't bode well if you have work on Wednesday, but otherwise it fucking rules. I personally like changing the weekly landscape. Reason 8792357 why Nora doesn't really want to get a "real person job."

So we watched Snowden, and then went to Lit again, where I was referred to as "that's the girl" and talked to the guys from White Light Motorcade.

And in the end, I need an apartment with a swimming pool for a bathtub/shower.

Tonight... British Sea Power, and I'm so tired.

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