Don't complain to me, Peskin!
As I've stated before, I don't really give a shit about the horrible, sad, tragic oil spill. It's just not my thing. I find other things tragic, like white shoes after labor day and poorly dressed children and, oh...i don't know...SHAM relationships that only serve to break the moral backbone of this city.
Gavin zipped off to Hawaii this weekend.
I'm guessing not alone.
Um, Aaron? Gavin's not going to cancel non-refundable upgrades just because an egret got a little dirty. However, I think you're missing the point.
Hawaii is one of those tacky, obvious, closer-than-Europe places where people who watch too much Gilmore Girls insist upon getting engaged, preferably under a waterfall or at...I don't know if I can type this...sunset.
I don't think blogger has those little IM emoticons or whatever, but I'd stick the barfing one here.
Anyway, shove it up your Speedo, Peskin. I'm the one that should be shocked. And worried. And horrified.
Oil spill, my ass. THIS is serious...
*PS! Tune in tomorrow (or today, because I'm writing this at 8:52pm, at home alone on my ghetto computer, as opposed to you people who are probably at Spruce and won't read this till Wednesday) for my thoughts on Supevisorial assassination. There'll even be a little teaser in the REAL paper. So drop a quarter and support my ass.
Also, tune in for Runway. We'll be discussing...