Tag Archives: it’s like Darfur only worse.

I think we’re just going to have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that

(cue musical score: Final Countdown) I left a room full of reporters typing feverishly after 1 a.m. last night. Mass emails led me to believe that there were reporters and ediporters working after 3 a.m. As for me, I simply don’t … Continue reading

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Who will buy me lunch?

This Week In Work: Crappy. feed me.

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