I had a run-in with the DMV this afternoon, which was as you would expect it: There were too many DMV employees for the amount of people in line, each person begging to serve NEXT PLEASE! After dancing and singing for what turned out to be only an instant, but seemed a blissful eternity, we all posed for pictures. Pictures of us smiling, pictures of us faux kissing, pictures us of with our eyes crossed and hands like owl-eyes, etc, etc. Afterwards we all exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch, which I know we will. It was a grand ol’ time… just like always.

In other news, David Blaine seems to be having a time of it, being pelted with eggs and taunted with the smell of food. Said one Londoner Londonite Londonian citizen:

We were watching him at home on TV and it was really dull so we thought we would come down and liven things up. I wanted to wake him up…

I can’t say I entirely blame them. Blaine started to lose me when he decided to freeze himself for safe keeping in Times Square a while back; rendering him about as interesting to look at as, say, a block of ice. I can’t imagine what the real fascination there would be in witnessing someone stand in a box for 44 days… unless he died, of course; but do I really have to sit through 6 weeks of veritable grass growing to see him fall asleep?

I keep thinking, “This is the guy that can fly!. He’s the one that used to freak-out passerby by reading their minds and levitating off the ground. Now he just… stands.”

yawn

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