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2005-03-16 - 10:11 a.m.

The other night Sydney vented about this work project that she's been putting off for like a year, and finally decided to start on so she can get it the hell over with. It involves organizing this enormous amount of photos of Shel Silverstein. She said it's horrible, he was in like every issue of the mag for a long time, so there are just so fucking many. And he goes all over the world and is always with different lady friends in every different country, and he dances really fucking hard & is caught mid-move, and I think she said he's pretty casual about having his shirt done up. And there are ones of him playing guitar with his head thrown back, singing it out. Eew. She was upset & like "I'm so sick of looking at his fucking bald head and beard." It was horrible even to hear about it. I felt so bad. So then the I got an email at work & that just said "Dude Shel Silverstein visited a nudist camp! MY EYES!!" Apparently the very worst is this one where his legs are crossed, and stuff falls down below where the thigh is crossed over. You know? If not, she can probably draw you a picture from memory. Or act it out like she did for me, using a shaking, traumatized hand to indicate where exactly the stuff droops restfully. Ickle me pickle me tickle me too.

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