Last night I dreamt that John Kerry was talking to me about his problems. "I'm worried that my feet are going to get wet," he said. "I don't think these shoes are waterproof."
I tried to be sympathetic, but I couldn't help thinking that John Kerry should probably be worrying about other things right now.
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I ended up being a bad brownie for Halloween (although Miss Myra is still going to receive her prize). And by "bad," I mean "extremely intoxicated."
We had a whole troop and everything. wFrom what I can remember, it was a pretty good time. A lot of people asked me for cookies and I was bummed that I hadn't carried through on my original idea of making money off the hipsters through the sale of baked goods. On the other hand, who really wants to carry around a bunch of cookies all night?
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