Below The Fold

In my previous post, I noted that Anne probably didn’t get my email in time to meet me for a cocktail or three while I was in Philly. As it turns out, she never received said email, largely because the idiot sending it used an ancient email address that was no longer valid. So, here, before G-d, the Interweb and the flying spaghetti monster, I hereby proclaim that Anne is persona-ultra-grata. And I suck.