Virginia Woolf is not wearing pants

I dined with some lit. fags, and so I got to hear all about which establishments had been raided lately, and about the intricacies of Gay Purim, and about some girl who did biographical research on Wordsworth and concluded that he was a really happy guy. I stared at them disbelievingly when they told me that reading the Da Vinci Code would keep me entertained for a couple hours. They stared at me when I told them that Bernie and Vecchio were at Lincoln Center with a bunch of teenagers. At the time, none of us knew that a Presbyterian church was holding classes on “unlocking the Da Vinci Code”. Of course, the word “church” near “Da Vinci” reminds me that Da Vinci was gay, and well, check out how many google hits there are for da vinci gay hanky code I'm going to be so disappointed if I ever find out what the Da Vinci Code really is.

We shoveled our mouths full of 花椒. Well, it was fake; probably we were consuming 山椒, but we'll never know for certain. It was still better than I had anticipated. It has been said that I should pick up a copy of The Chinese Kitchen by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo. There is a tenuous alternate link between “Eileen” and Cantonese food, but not one that will be obvious to anyone reading, not even to a загадочной нелатвийской душе.

Now Annie wants Purse to blog, but there are several metaphorically-crenelated okols which are getting in the way, and that's a shame, but sometimes it's better to stop fighting things and just let them roll right over you. Sometimes it's not. Annie can't possibly know whether or not disturbing the balance will be catastrophic, but she can guess.

I wonder if Béla Fleck has ever played Bizarre Love Triangle on the banjo.