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Year of the Ram

My friend Sheila hosted one of her infamous soirees at her showroom for this welcomed event. Her friend Veronica, owner of Dim Sum Go Go in Chinatown, was kind enough to cater the affair. Can I just say, Dim Sum Yum Yum?

In keeping with my true character, I made a few new friends. One of which is traveling to Morocco this February and has invited me to join the group. Umm, yeah, count me in! Then there was Mike, a reporter for the New York Times. He didn’t laugh at anything I did or said, so I quickly decided I hated him for infinity plus one, but if I ever need a contact at the Times I might forgive him.

Finally, I re-met Beth. She is a photo-journalist for the Associated Press whom I originally met this past summer at Sheila’s rooftop luau which was complete with grass skirts, coconut bikini tops and an inflatable pool. Beth’s husband Pancho hails from Chile and is also a reporter for the Times. Beth not only makes a killer batch of guacamole, she lived with a group of female gang members in Florida for six months as part of report. Beth Rulez! I think I’m going to go through initiation so she’ll have to talk to me again. I’m just not sure about that whole gang bang thing.

So um, yeah, happy new year and Rams are cool.

Bipolar Disorder Defined
I’ve endured two days of screaming, ranting and raving (no exaggeration, I promise you) from Bossman about a chipped piece of furniture and some other really petty problems with our office move. Granted we only moved one floor so not much should have been a problem, but still, what’s with all that anger? Dude, relax. Around 5:00 today, he came out of his office all sing songy and whistling showtunes like he does, sidles up to me and says, “So, all in all it was a pretty smooth move.”

Either he’s bipolar or that valium I slipped in his afternoon coffee was just what the doctor ordered.

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