My 11.5-hour flight was blissfully short because I ended up sleeping--albeit restlessly--for about 7 hours. I awoke to the grating sound of a female flight attendant screaming in a rough New England accent, "Omelette or pasta?! Omelette or pasta?!" For a moment, I thought I had died and something in the afterlife had gone very, very wrong.
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I maybe can't make tomorrow night because i have a 6-9 class. but let me know if its later than that, i want to see you ASAP! before i forget let me tell you that my artist group thing is having an opening next saturday night at the Frothy Monkey coffeehouse on 12th ave S from 7-11, i'll have 3 or 4 things and there will be free sandwiches and wine.
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The opening is today, right? I don't really need the sammies or the wine, but I'm really psyched about seeing your art. ^_^ And you, of course. I'll try to stop by early so I can head out early. (I hate going to art shows early because nobody's ever there, but at least I'll be able to actually see you and talk to you, which is harder to do the later it gets.)
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*in-a-extremly-manly-axel-rose-scream* Take me to the paradiiiise city, where grass is green and the girls are pretty. Ooooh take me theeeeeeereeeeeeeeeee!
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(Now I have that song in my head....)
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Maybe. I'm running around like crazy trying to get ready to leave, but I would love to see you. Call me? Email me? Let me know what's going on.
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