Today is 09-09-09. It's also my birthday. I'm turning twenty-seven, which is 9 times 3. Some things:
! I feel like this day should be tremendously numerologically fortuitous, but so far I'm at work, the weather is crappy and my e-mail is broken. The only fortuitous thing I have done is wake up and decide to yank out the eyebrow ring I've had since
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Also: Happy Birthday, wretch. I'm sorry that I'm out-wretching you by not being able to be at your dinner. Booze soon?
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PS - Every time you or anyone else says or writes "V-Mart" I just think of Valmart, and how my Dadda is a Dracula.
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b) Well, well, Paul Byrd did his best to not totally frag up my birthday. Run MDC, on the other hand ....
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