I am trying to have a good Sunday. I am watching Weeds Season Two on dvd and wrapping Festivus presents for you, gentle readers. That should bring me great joy. But, there is a dark cloud hanging over my day.
After crawling out of bed at an unreasonable hour, I went outside to get the paper. Just to discover that my Sunday New York Times was missing. Oh no, the neighborhood car radio theft is one thing, but fucking with a girl's erudite crossword is another thing altogether. I know, I can't finish it, but I still like to fill it up with random words and keep it on my desk at work. Makes the bitches think you are all kinds of smart.
I better not be missing out on important world geo-political news because I am without my Style section. I better not.
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