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About the Author (pops)
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moving on, faster than the world
from the music vault: supersuckers
car of the night; cruisin' around in my gto
music from the vault: the ramones
f.t.t.w: side notes
we have a date with the underground, part 7
Death Comes Ripping on a Sunday
blogrolling tales: a story told in blog links
Meryl was the youngest of three daughters and an unashamed liberal. She fancied herself a pundit and had a gaggle of freelance newspaper jobs to her credit, but those mostly were offered to her after she would sleep with an editor. Or two.
She caused quite a buzz around town when one day she got her finger caught in an electric heater. See, the heater was in Oliver's apartment, Oliver being the guy who owned the juice bar on Fifth Street. Oliver had a big mouth and told the EMT who came to rescue Meryl's broken finger from the heater that Oliver was, indeed "imbibing in Meryl's big pink cookie," so to speak.
25 May 2003