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February 16, 2011
Ian and I snuck out of Dave's party and walked down the dark street towards his car.

"Man, Dave throws a good party," he said, still eating. "It's a pity we had to leave early because I took ninety percent of his gob-jommin."

On the way, I told him about my encounter with the unusually glittery Liz.

"It's awfully sexist of you to assume she glittered herself up just for a guy's sake," he said. "Maybe she was just feeling glittery that morning, you know?"

"You're looking quite glittery yourself, friend" I said, "covered as you are with gob-jommin syrup."