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So I was talking to Jay the other night. (We do that sometimes, as Triumvir and Emeritus, just talk. It's a bonding experience. It's really cool. You all should be members of the Triumvirate. Except then it wouldn't be as cool, because it wouldn't be exclusive. Sort of like when the National Press Club invited Jeff Gannon to appear on a panel, thus paving the way for Heidi Fleiss to keynote next year. Not that you're a bunch of pimps and whores, of course. And not that we don't want to share all the joyful Triumviraty goodness with you, the people who make PubNight the cherished experience it is. But, well, we don't, so deal.)
Anyway, we were talking, and Jay said...
...can't remember. Ah well. Can't have been important.
We have been so distressed over missing Alethia's birthday in May that we made a suicide pact. Then we sobered up, found Jesus, and decided just to go to the Dove ("High-flying Victorian grandeur and low-budget beverages," "Greenwich Village sensibility meets 19th-century charm at this sub-sidewalk level watering hole,") this week like she wanted. Less messy.
See you there!
-Mike, Cindy, Rebecca, TK, Alethia, and Darling Nikki