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[[groovy musics: belle & sebastian, the BANANAS, nation of ulysses]]

5:32 p.m. // 16 October 2003

I put up fliers on my walk to work. I drank a root beer on the road out of what looks like a beer bottle. I got to work and I got a phone call and it was Malcolm Wardlaw. WTF? I am thinking to myself. He wants me to write a letter of recommendation for his film school applications. I am going to have to dig deep in the recesses of my mind. I may not be able to do this justice.

Then I made a joke about Mother Theresa, provoked by the headline of a story for the religion page. "What's the secret, Mother Theresa? To find somebody you want to help and keep helping them the rest of your life." Then, because he holds a complete monopoly on all Rushmore-related jokery, Dalton threw a pen at my teeth really hard and I fell off my chair in shock. Nazli, who stopped by only wanting to take a smoke break, looked stunned. Typical overreaction on my part. It really did hurt, for like twenty seconds.

 

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