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Wednesday, March 14, 2007

and I take the first bumps. I wake up the next day with club music pounding in my ears, and with the nagging feeling that I have taken my relationship with several well-known bloggers "to the next level."

Palo Alto, California: After an all-night drinking binge, I stumble into Ben's apartment. I vomit on his vinyl collection and destroy several of his rare musical instruments. Ben accuses me of being drunk, so I proceed to beat him with assorted articles of cat furniture. He flees to a motel and files a police report. I later convince him not to press charges.

New York State Throughway, Mohawk Travel Plaza: In a congenial men's urinal, I snort lines off Ogged's bare ass. I think, "I've finally arrived."

When I regained consciousness on March 12th, I was startled to find that my nostrils had fused and I had lost 30 lbs. My teeth were the consistency of the inside of a ripe cantaloupe and there were small animals nesting in my hair. I quickly found a computer and saw that daily traffic to my blog had dropped from 800 to 50 visits per day. My page rank came up as a zero. I tried to collect call Bitch Phd, then Matt Yglesias then Ben but no one would accept the charges. I hobbled into a public library, defeated and desperate, and wrote what became this post.

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(Claire has asserted the moral right to be identified as the author of this post.)


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