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Back in my hotel room

Back in my hotel room after an amazing dinner at some fancy schmancy B&B in Indian Wells. A truly amazing space. Especially the bathroom. If you're curious, email me and I'll send you pictures. And, OUCH, I was enjoying a martini at the loft/B&B/restaurant tonight and bit into an olive, which wasn't pitted properly. I think I cracked my tooth. Hopefully, when the vodka wears off in the morning, it won't hurt too much.

Memo to self: Sales and Marketing professionals, albeit mainly straight, can be excellent drinkers -- although the men folk get awful drunk and hang on the sleaziest girls. But I'm not here to judge. All I'm sayin' is that I didn't think you can write off hookers on your expense report.

Catchin' up on blogs from the weekend ...

Your new cut is too cute. Whatever hair drama you thought you might have had was has clearly grown out. And anyone with proper (trailer park) breeding would never second guess chicken in a can.

You, and everyone else, should just go see what you want to see. Life's short. And Potty Mouth is shorter. Buy a ticket. Now.

This real job thing is making you cranky. It only gets worse ... take a deep breath.

Night dears. I have to be up in a few hours for the Afterburners. I'm a little afraid.