Monday, July 23, 2007

The upside of inane work errands

The New School is spread out among a bunch of mostly older buildings in the Village. The kind of buildings that have bricked-in windows where a new building has sprung up next door and remnants of curved mouldings inside what is now a storage closet and old stairwells with half doors that make you really curious as to what's behind them, but are always locked and painted shut many times over except.. wohoah! What is this? This is a little crazy janitor's closet -slash- interrogation room.

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

Where were you on the night of the 17th?
Mom

Marianne said...

Uh, out for Suzanne's birthday party then at home with friends...?

Kate and/or Mike said...

Then how did your scarf get into the victim's car?

(Can I be the bad cop?)

Suzanne said...

i got your back, girl, if you need an alibi. (as in, i wont tell anyone about the mexican midget hooker that we robbed, killed and then dumped into the east river. happy birthday to me, indeed!!!) well - if anyone can think of a better way to get money for crack then i'd like to hear it!

Marianne said...

Could somebody explain to me what the f-bombs is going on? I am
1. hungover, and
2. at work.

the goose a prisoner said...

My mom reads my blog and she tolerates (not really, but i do it any way) the "f-bombs". I thought you Canadiens were more...European?

ps - I'm going to a bullfight tomorrow. for real.

Marianne said...

Huh. My mom went to one. Said once in a lifetime was definitely enough.

Anonymous said...

I thought you did your best work while you were hungover... S'wanyway you had mentioned the "interrogation room" so I tried to interrogate you but was met with a resounding DUH so Kate tried to bolster the joke with a reference to a victim and evidence but that was met with an f-bomb. Stay out of the bars on Sunday night.
Mom

Marianne said...

I actually finally, finally got it just before you posted that last comment. My god, I am slow today.

Anonymous said...

And how's the doctorate coming along, dear?
Mom