Dickie Cronkite

Time left in DC: Two weeks.

Time left to do quarter's worth of work for seminar: Two weeks.

Time to find a (safe) pad in Caracas: Dos semanas.

Time to crank out three more features for the Seattle Times: Two weeks.

Time to read two books on Venezuela: Two weeks.

Time to organize and pack all East Coast belongings for the trek back to God's Country, leaving space in the truck from Dickie, Sr: Two weeks.

Time to dissolve belongings collecting dust in Chi-town: Two weeks.

Time left to enjoy Dewey's 50-inch HD screen and cushy pad before moving to a South American shantytown: Two weeks.

Time left to enjoy Entourage and other assorted HBO goodies: Two weeks.

Number of ex-girlfriends currently doing their taxes, due tomorrow after the extension, at our dining room table: One.

Time to pull brilliant Venezuela freelance ideas out of my ass and pitch 'em to Washington Post and WSJ contacts: Two weeks.

Time to say goodbye to new friends, and old friends: Two weeks.

Time to watch things end before they begin: Two weeks.

Number of girls wearing my boxers on Saturday...and Sunday: Two.

Number of girls in newsroom who laughed after one of 'em returned a pair on Monday and I declared, "All the ladies wanna get into my boxers": Zero.

Number of drunkards who jumped the fence at the Fairlington, VA community pool for a 3am dip: Five.

Number of weeks to try and get some fucking sleep. Two.

Number of weeks to relax, take a deep breath, and enjoy the last two weeks: Two weeks.

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2005-08-15 8:11 PM Under the gun. Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (11) Share on Facebook	Time left in DC: Two weeks. Time left to do quarter's worth of work for seminar: Two weeks. Time to find a (safe) pad in Caracas: Dos semanas. Time to crank out three more features for the Seattle Times: Two weeks. Time to read two books on Venezuela: Two weeks. Time to organize and pack all East Coast belongings for the trek back to God's Country, leaving space in the truck from Dickie, Sr: Two weeks. Time to dissolve belongings collecting dust in Chi-town: Two weeks. Time left to enjoy Dewey's 50-inch HD screen and cushy pad before moving to a South American shantytown: Two weeks. Time left to enjoy Entourage and other assorted HBO goodies: Two weeks. Number of ex-girlfriends currently doing their taxes, due tomorrow after the extension, at our dining room table: One. Time to pull brilliant Venezuela freelance ideas out of my ass and pitch 'em to Washington Post and WSJ contacts: Two weeks. Time to say goodbye to new friends, and old friends: Two weeks. Time to watch things end before they begin: Two weeks. Number of girls wearing my boxers on Saturday...and Sunday: Two. Number of girls in newsroom who laughed after one of 'em returned a pair on Monday and I declared, "All the ladies wanna get into my boxers": Zero. Number of drunkards who jumped the fence at the Fairlington, VA community pool for a 3am dip: Five. Number of weeks to try and get some fucking sleep. Two. Number of weeks to relax, take a deep breath, and enjoy the last two weeks: Two weeks. Read/Post Comments (11) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top
:: HOME :: GET EMAIL UPDATES :: The Desert Sun :: J-school :: Undergrad :: Hoya Saxa :: The Other Dark Continent :: Greatest Sports Franchise Ever :: Bill Simmons - Sports Guy Home Page :: Laker Jim's Kurt Rambis Page :: Dodger Blues Dot Com :: This American Life :: Slate :: NOVICA.com :: Racist Big East Semi Final Loser :: Karen Warrior-Chieftain :: Sara Global :: Kirty Word :: Award-winning Pointlessness :: The Ultimate Douchebag :: RM :: Miss E's Opinions :: Dad's book ::