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I turn 21 three months early

Tommy Nevin’s pub has a been a source of great consternation for me, as I am not yet 21 and most of my friends, well, are. This year it seemed like every other weekend was marked by a trip I couldn’t go on – very infantilizing for me, since I had a solid nine months to legally imbibe when I turned 18 in England. But yesterday Ellen Shapiro invited me to her birthday party, and rather then leave when Laurel, Stef et al entered the bar, I tried my luck. They didn’t even think of carding me.

Purchasing Bass in a bar, illegally, without any attempt to pull one over on the bartender, is one of the most rewarding experiences you can have outside the law. A runner-up is talking with Ellen’s friends, who riffed hysterically on a number of subjects and shared CRC gossip as I downed ale after ale. Ellen later invited us to her place, and in time the party became a Bizzaro version of the Daily party as old, jilted and bitter staffers recounted how much they hated our campus paper. It was almost as if I didn’t have finals on Monday. Hey, maybe I don’t!

No, wait. I do.

Balls.

Song of the Day: Peter Gabriel, every fucking song on his eponymous second album. It’s godlike.

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Woo hoo!

I got a new serial number for Dreamweaver, which means I was able to redesign the website after I finished my paper this afternoon. The new luck is rough. Really rough. I doubt it’ll be up until the middle of the month, after I put the finals to bed. But when that happens, and when everything is smoothed out, I’ll finally have the sort of site I’ve been planning all along.

Song of the Day: Brian Eno, “Needle in the Camel’s Eye”

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AWOL

I am writing the world’s longest paper today; although it’s due Tuesday, the last thing I need right now is an all-nighter. So between that, a meeting, and a concert by Spencer Bates, I won’t weblog again until tomorrow. Probably.

Song of the Day: G.G. Allin, “Son of Evil”