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hipstamirror

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It's winter in Seattle again. Again, because there was a day of summer last weekend, but I spent that day inside the EMP listening to academics and critics talk about music and watching Blue Scholars sing about politics, and seeing Coconut Coolouts almost starting a candy riot by bringing a pinata to an all ages show. Now, though, it is cold outside and I spent most of the week inside my office wrangling the computers, trying and failing to get them to do my bidding. I want them to imagine the genome, but they do not like that idea one bit. The struggle, the thinking about large amounts of data, and the cold. All of it is making me a little sleepy.

To combat the malaise there was a field trip to the Saint, which a new well-lit tequila place that took over an oddly shaped space formerly occupied by the Wing Dome. A bloody mary spiked with horseradish and with tequila! Salvation. The next day had a meetup at Smith followed by a show by Mount Eerie and Why? that was pretty darn wonderful. A happy hour at the Nite Lite (which was strangely brighter inside than I remembered it. being). We were in a large group, but that didn't stop a random drunk from trying to talk to everyone who wasn't interested in talking to him. Eventually, we fled to Shorty's, found it too crowded, and went to the Rendezvous instead. Crowds filtered in and out of shows and private parties while we drank cheap beer and ate yam chips.

I went to bed fairly early and slept late. I stopped at the office for a few minutes on the way to Rachel's annual Passover festivities. After dinner and dessert and the four glasses of wine we played the french driving game, which I always love even when my team loses rather horribly. Going home, the bus was twenty minutes late, but a taxi magically appeared and I happily paid for the ride home. Not owning a car makes me never feel bad about paying someone else to drive me places.

Today we had hippie food for brunch and a grapefruit mimosa (I was pretty proud of my spontaneous order of this variation). As usual, we talked about parasitic twins and wondering where the table of precious bike messengers find their bike messenger costumes. Right when the food arrived, there was a whole lot of Journey on the jukebox without us even needing to bother the waitress. It was not quite a moment, but close. Samantha's right. It is much better when you don't request it.

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