Sock Drop

February 28th, 2007

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I’ll try and make this short since I’ve got about negative five minutes until my awesome, adorable, loveable, totally rational, and reasonable clients arrive.  I wanted to get here early so I could write you a beautiful, stylized, hilarious, and thoughtful letter (packed with adjective lists apparently), but despite waking up one minute before my alarm (set thirty-three minutes early) went off, I still snoozed for about an hour, then F (whom, as I’ve written in a previous letter, I usually beat into the shower) beat me into the shower, so anyway, I was late to work.

About that waking up a minute before my alarm.  Had a strange dream last night involving a TJ Maxx type store in which I didn’t buy anything, but stole something from another shopper’s purse.  Also was working at a bar located through a hidden door in one of my apartment walls.  The weird part was that eventually I ended up with one of my oldest friends, Mike Lang.  (Upon proof reading this, I realize ending up with Mike is the least weird part of the dream… oh well.)  He would be the oldest friend I have save for his twin brother who ties he’s longevity.  He was dating this modelesque girl and for some reason she said the word abscond, and I mentioned that I usually only hear the word used as absconded.  I think this is completely false, but we thought absconded was in the form double-past-participle-passive.  And that… that we thought was hilarious.  In retrospect, it is not.  (Shit, clients here.)  Anyway, we were driving down a highway on a sunny day and hit a puddle, skid out like a mother fucker, and I’m lying flat in the back seat thinking, just lay limp, that’s what you’re supposed to right?  Right?  Wake up.  Snooze.

Anyway, I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t had time to do laundry and therefore my feet smell… really bad.  I can’t use those socks anymore without washing them.  I just can’t!  So… I had my friend Ilana deliver socks to my work last night.  They’re soft and clean and I can feel the fungus on my feet doing a rain dance, trying to get the harvest back.  But it ain’t coming, suckas!

That last paragraph was completely gross.