only hippes make fun of people with daily jobs

ok i'm out for a few days. not like i've been super present for the last week. which is *not* to say that there haven't been things to talk about. oh there have. oh my oh my there have.

this weekend is mike b's birthday as well - i remembered about thirty seconds ago and am not sure how i'm going to navigate that what with the going away this weekend and the not having a gifty etc etc. it's not that i'm a bad friend, it's just that i lost my little book with the dates of all my friends and i've been a little distracted this last while. so ya, i guess i'm a bad friend.

in case you are curious - no i'm not a hippy. though i do have a bit of granola in my sushi, i hate the stink of patchouli, don't own birkenstocks nor a peasant skirt, wash my well-styled hair with frightening regularity and paint my toenails.

i did, however, always picture myself being employed in a way which allowed me to structure my own hours and take the summers off - whch is to say, i figured i'd be working in academia. you know - wearing tweed, smoking a pipe, and pompously expounding on the comparative merits of proust and racine. but whatever - spreadsheets are fun too, right?