Minutes


Where: Virtual Global iPhone meeting

When: 21/08/08, 11:00 AM Eastern Time, on the second derivative of the convex maxima

Present: Everybody

 

The first few minutes were spent establishing iPhone contact.

Sherpa Joe said reception was exceptional at the top of Everest, “because it’s so high.”

Empty Shell gushed that she and Richard have His & Hers iPhones now; his is much bigger than hers. They joined the conference call from Hintonburg, where they were cruising around in  their brand new Jeep, where reception was great “because it’s so high.”  

La Chaise sounded a little harried, and said she was holding her iPhone between her ear and her shoulder while nursing a giant stool and spot-cleaning spit-up off her cushions.  “I wish I was high,” she said wistfully. 

Elfy connected from his bicycle which he said was gender neutral with a modified crossbar. “Do you think it makes me look queer?” he asked. A discussion ensued on the nature of queerness and how it’s no longer all that related to sexual orientation but is more about blurring the edges of gender roles.

“How come I don’t know this stuff?” asked Foxy, who was chatting on his iPhone while loping across Egypt.

Shagatha snorted.

“I call the meeting to order,” she said briskly, “Did you all remember to bring your breakfasts and beer?”

A chorus of oops ensued, and a few minutes passed uneventfully while everybody rounded up breakfast and beer.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” said Shagatha, “Well. Have any of you noticed that the Elgin Street Irregulars have ceased blogging?”

Everybody started talking at once.

“They haven’t blogged since I stopped nipping at their heels!” exclaimed Foxy.

“Exactly,” said Shagatha, “We stopped metablogging them because our mission – to nudge them out of their complacency – had been accomplished. They were blogging fast and furious. Our work was done. But the moment we stopped nipping at their heels, they stopped blogging.”

Sherpa Joe suggested that perhaps they were consciously refraining from blogging in the hopes of luring us back into metablogging them.

“You think they miss our pithy posts?” asked Shagatha.

“We weren’t usually all that pissy,” replied Chaisey defensively.

“It might have nothing to do with us,” suggested The Eye, “Perhaps they’re just too busy to post.”

This possibility was discussed.

“Poor Aggie got a job,” said Empty Shell, “She’s a boss and everything.”

Everybody contemplated what it must be like to have a job and get out of bed every day and do your hair and pretend to give a shit about crap.

Everybody agreed that poor Aggie couldn’t possibly be expected to have a job and  blog too. Seriously, who could possibly be expected to do both? And Woodsy just moved, so maybe we should cut her some slack too. Give her a week or so to get the internet hooked up.

“Okay, so Aggie and Woodsy have got an excuse. But what about Coyote?” asked Foxy, “He doesn’t have a job.”

“As for the Chair, I bet he just sits around all day,” said Chaisey, “That’s what I used to do before I pushed this giant stool out of my bajingo.”

“As far as I can tell, The Independent Observer doesn’t actually do anything,” said Elfy, “He just watches other people doing stuff.”

“I think Conch Shell just lies on the beach all day long,” said Empty Shell.

“That evil Dwarf hasn’t worked a day in his life!” spat the Eye.

We could hear the whirring sounds through our iPhones as the Eye starting to spin. Everybody made soothing noises and changed the subject.

“How’s everybody’s cats?” asked Foxy. Everybody talked about their cats for awhile.

“Okay,” said Sherpa Joe after a few minutes, “What should we do about this state of affairs with the ESIs?”

“We can’t devote our entire lives to nipping at their heels,” said Shagath. “We have other missions to fulfill.”

“Like what?” asked Chaisey.

[redacted]

Followed by several gasps and a chorus of “ooooooohhhh!s”

“Okay,” said Elfy, “How about we just release an official statement expressing our feelings about the ESIs, and then we move on to our other missions?”

Everybody agreed.

With the help of a press agent, we carefully crafted the following statement:

“We, the Bank Street Irrelevants, wish to convey our exasperation and sadness with the Elgin Street Irregulars’ lack of momentum. Honestly, do you need to be prodded every step of the way? What about that Dating Paradigm? Wrap it up and put it in a bag already. As for that anticlimatic Top SeKrit nonsense, what was up with that? P.S. We miss you.”

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Where: The Usual Spot
When: Saturday at noon sharp
Who: Sherpa Joe

 

Sherpa Joe here. This is a difficult post for me to write but it’s a story that needs to be told.

Over the months I’ve grown kinda fond of that motley crew that call themselves the Bank Street Irregulars. Oh yeah, I know, we had a falling out over the whole boot camp thing for the Elgin Street Expedition, but it was only because I gave a good goddamm about them and wanted them to be the very best they could be.

But I should have seen they weren’t ready. I pushed them too hard. I regret that.

After that whole fiasco, I drank myself into a Jack Daniels stupor for awhile. It took about a week for me to hit rock bottom. I guess you could say I didn’t have far to fall.

I lost everything:  my job, my room, my cat, some dame, my self respect. There’s nothing more pathetic than a sherpa who’s lost his bearings. That was me.

But you can’t dwell on your mistakes forever. Eventually you just have to pick up the pieces and move on, which is what I did.  I was a man on a mission. I sobered up that Sunday and finished the twelfth step on Tuesday afternoon.

Ever since then, I’ve been working on slowly rebuilding my life and regaining the trust of the BSIs, in the hopes that they might someday give me a second chance, and let me take them to the Tally-Ho Tavern and maybe eventually we could all climb Nanny Goat Hill together. Everybody needs a dream to cling to, and that’s mine.

We’re still a long way from that, but we’re making progress and that’s good enough for me.

That’s why I was happy to see a note in my inbox a few days ago inviting me to their next Emergency Meeting, today at noon in the round booth at the Usual Spot.

I showed up at 12:00 on the dot because Mama always said punctuality was next to cleanliness. I headed straight for the round booth and then drew back sharply in my tracks. Where there used to be a round red booth, now there was just a gaping hole. I stood there gaping at the gaping hole. The gaping hole gaped back at me.

A waitress floated by, like a butterfly on a gentle breeze.

“Excuse me ma’am,” I said, tipping my hat because Mama always said courtesy was next to punctuality, “but where is the round booth?”

“Oh, that,” she said, “It just vanished overnight. But don’t worry. I can seat you at another table. How about something outside on the patio?”

 I settled for that, knowing I could keep an eye on the door and catch the others as they arrived. I was a little worried about Chaisey – I don’t know what she sees in him, but she’s got it bad for that round booth. She wasn’t going to be happy to learn he’d flown the coop. I was glad I was there for her, though, if only to lend a shoulder to cry on when she came face to face with that gaping hole.

I ordered a beer and checked my watch. 12:10. Still no sign of the BSIs.

By 2:00 pm I was half in the bag and I knew they weren’t coming. I had a bad taste in my mouth, and an even badder feeling in my gut.

Something wasn’t adding up, and the more I thought about it, the more the whole thing stunk of foul play to me.

I paid my bill, tipped my hat back on my head, rubbed the stubble on my square jaw, and stepped out onto Bank Street.

My investigation began there.

[to be continued]

Where: The Usual Spot
When: 12:00 sharp
Present: La Chaise, Shagatha, Third Elf, Fox
Semi-present: Empty Shell
Omnipresent: Autonomous Eye
Absent with a Good Excuse: Pandamonia, who is still dead
Guest: Grammar Gestapo

Round BoothRound BoothI got there first and was seated at a wooden table. Across the room I spotted the most stunning, richly-textured, round red and gold booth I’d ever seen in my life.   His lines were exquisite. I asked the waitress to introduce us and she agreed, but told me to wait until she’d had a chance to freshen him up. As I slid into his waiting arms and sunk back against him, I knew he was the one. It was like we were made for each other.  When the others arrived (Third Elf was late again, by the way) they all agreed that this Red & Gold Round Booth is fabulous and much more my type than the one on Elgin Street. It’s important that your friends like the guy you’re seeing, wouldn’t you agree?

Okay, minutes. 

Item #1: The Gift Exchange. 

Nobody brought gifts today. Everybody looked sad.

Item #2: How bad is your hangover?

We compared hangovers. Third Elf had the worst hangover. It was so bad he ordered water even though the rest of us were having New Cranberry Maple Wheat Beer. Poor Elf. He didn’t even perk up when we admired his cute little feet.

Item #3: Pandamonia’s Children’s Education Fund

After much discussion we decided screw the children, we need a new charity. Ideas were kicked around, criteria were considered and discarded. No decisions were reached. Fundraising ideas were suggested: Foxy could shave his head and Elfy could take his empties back.  We could challenge the redacted to a fundraising contest. We mused about what their favourite charity might be.

Item #4: Engagement

How can we engage the redacted to interredact with us? Elfy suggested kidnapping one of their women, but the others thought that would be crossing the line. Elfy went on record as saying if we were to kidnap one of their women, which of course we won’t, he hoped it would be Aggie and she would get Stockholm Syndrome, which of course she won’t.

Breakfast arrived. It was delicious. It was so yummy, some of us ordered seconds. Foxy didn’t eat his fruit or toast, so the rest of us divvied them up. Elfy didn’t eat his bacon; Foxy pounced on it. Great smacking noises all round. More beer was ordered, and water for Elfy who was starting to recover from the award-winning hangover but seemed a little lost in his own little fantasy world.

Item #5: Does Stephane Dion have more facebook friends than Stephen Harper?

Yes, it’s true. Stephane Dion has 10,512 friends, and Stephen Harper has 8,386 friends. Why does this matter? Because Empty Shell got a job (no, really!) in the government and at first they weren’t allowed to access facebook but now they are because the prime minister wants his employees to friend him on facebook so he can have more friends than stephane dion. We’re all happy that Empty Shell can get on Facebook during the day now, but we think it’s weird. We agreed to continue monitoring the situation, but not to friend stephen harper.

Item #6: Bras

We hate bras.

Item #7: Should the Grammar Gestapo be invited to join the BSIs on a permanent basis?

Only if he promises not to correct us, because that could get annoying.

Item #8: The Focus of the Eye

Now that we have undressed the Fourth Dwarf with our Autonomous Eye, it’s time for the Eye to focus on someone else. Turning, turning, seeking, seeking…..aha! Redacted redacted redacted, this is gonna be good, redacted. [Much gleeful rubbing together of hands and cackling laughter.]

Item #9: Wither the Blog?

(In camera session) (That’s fancy for ‘redacted’.)

Item #10: Other Business

Shaking on itLet the record show that Chaisey rifled through her cushions looking for change and came up short: she didn’t have enough money for breakfast. Round Red-and-Gold Booth invited her to rifle through his cushions, which she did, but in the end she still had to borrow $2 from Third Elf.

Shaking on itThe meeting was adjourned at 2:30.

It was pretty hard for me to get down to the business of note-taking mere minutes after falling in love at first sight.

I kept stealing sidelong glances at Red Booth and wondering if he was studying my proffered profile when I wasn’t looking. I wondered if he was as swept off his feet by me as I was by him, or if he had even noticed me.

Back in the day, I used to turn a few heads. Nowadays, not so much. The odd antique dealer takes a second look, but a strapping Red Booth in the prime of life? I don’t know.

Shagatha gave us all presents: very cool Edward Gorey bookmarks!

 We ordered beers and breakfast, as was our want to do, and toasted the successful culmination of months of planning that had led us to this most unusual spot.

“But let’s not get too smug,” said Shagatha, “the journey does not end here.”

We all stared at her blankly.

“We have much work to do,” she said pointedly, “and some of you haven’t been pulling your weight lately.”

We all looked around the table at each other, wondering who she was talking about.

“She must be talking about Panda,” Foxy whispered to me.

“I don’t think we have to worry about that anymore,” said Foxy grandly.

Empty Shell’s lower lip started to quiver, so I changed the subject.

“Elfy,” I said, “How’s your profile coming along?”

“What profile?” asked Elfy.

We explained again about the ESIs profile challenge. Elfy had completely forgotten, and our explanation didn’t seem to ring a bell. And then he tried to cover for his absent-mindedness by saying he’d already written and posted his profile and the ESIs had conceded defeat and this trip to Elgin Street was our prize and the ESIs had prepaid our breakfast bill. We felt bad for him so we admired his curly feet.

 Then we changed the subject by asking Foxy if he was still writing poetry.

“Poetry?” asked Foxy blankly.

Beers arrived and we took a short break from the agenda to sit around the table like a murder of fucking crows, as is our want to do, and talk about people behind their backs.

readacted redacted redacted Q-Tip redacted redacted redacted anatomically male redacted redacted redacted redacted stockpot redacted redacted redacted redacted lick bum redacted redacted.

Breakfast arrived. We asked for salt and pepper to season our omelets. We received pepper and pepper but we didn’t notice until after we’d peppered and peppered our omelets. 

After we’d eaten we got down to the brass tacks of who are we and what is our purpose and how are we evolving and should we just shut the whole thing down or are we prepared to make a serious commitment. We went round and round the mulberry bush on that one.

Shagatha noticed my mind wasn’t on the task at hand, and swatted me – I was embarrassed to see a cloud of dust spring from my cushions, and hoped Red Booth hadn’t noticed.

We then turned our attention to the matter of the ESI’s recent metablogging efforts, which we agreed was both interesting and effective.

“They should do more of that,” Foxy moved.  There was a murmur of agreement, followed by a vote. The motion carried unanimously.

Empty Shell still looked like she was going to burst into tears. I leaned over and asked her if she was okay.

“I keep hoping that Foxy eating Pandamonia was just a fig newton of my imagination,” she whispered,  “but I think he defiantly devoured her, don’t you?”

“No,” I assured her, “It was just a fig newton.”

With all topics covered, we moved to Action Items:

Foxy stated the next meeting should involve discussion on how to make BSI the most popular blog ever, so we can make money and retire. Shagatha reminded us that none of us have jobs to retire from. Foxy suggested that we get jobs so we can discuss how to make BSI the most popular blog ever so we can make money and retire.

Resolved: That at some point in the future we will discuss creating the Bank Street Bank as another moneymaker.

Autonomous Eye interrupts: “Let the minutes reveal that Shagatha is blackberrying”

“Bad form!” we all said, and then we all agreed with each other.  Eventually Shagatha finished her call and put her blackberry away and we felt triumphant for this debatable victory.

A patron at the next table leaned over.

“Say,” he said, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but are you guys the Bank Street Irrelevants?”

Third Elf narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man.

“And who might YOU be?” he asked icily.

“A,” said the young man.

“Oh?” said Elfy.

“Aye,” said the young man.

Elfy looked at the girl.

“You?” he demanded.

“J,” she said.

“Oh?” asked Elfy.

“Why?”

“Gee,” said Elfy “OK, never mind.”

“We were wondering if we could borrow your pepper?” asked A, “because we got salt and salt.”

We gave them the pepper and I secretly thought it was surprisingly clever of them to find a solution to their salt and salt problem.

By this time it was 2:00 and so we adjourned. On the way out I slipped Red Booth my phone number.

P.S. I’m sorry if the minutes aren’t up to my usual standards. I just can’t seem to focus lately. If I left anything out, let me know.

Present: Autonomous Eye, Shagatha, La Chaise, Third Elf, Fox, Empty Shell. Plus guests Tainted Dick and Mad Tam.

Absent with a Really Good Excuse: Pandamonia

Where: Elgin Street

The first thing we did was congratulate ourselves heartily for surviving our trip to Elgin Street.

The journey was every bit as arduous and treacherous as we feared it would be, and some of our members were wishing they’d participated in Sherpa Joe’s boot camp because it’s not much fun finding out you’re undertrained and unprepared when you’re  clinging to the sidewalk with your fingernails and the wind is whipping the breath right out of your lungs and the snow is swirling all around you as you pray desperately to a god you don’t even believe in to please please please send the sidewalk plow.

At one point we were so hungry and exhausted that we feared for our very lives. The relentless snow had covered the street signs, but we thought we were on the north face of Metcalfe Street. We were disoriented, not even sure any longer if we were still on course.

“I’m so hungry,” wailed Empty Shell, “I haven’t had anything to eat since midmorning tea!”

We were all getting a little rumbly in the tumbly.

Pandamonia kept shrieking “Oh my god, we’re all going to die!” and it was getting on everybody’s nerves.

She was going on and on about her children and who would take care of them and help them with their homework and clean out their puke buckets and pick the nits out of their hair, and finally Foxy couldn’t take it anymore. He leapt upon her and killed her.

Everybody gasped and stared at him.

Foxy looked a little sheepish, but the best defence is a good offence so he said “Look. We’re starving out here. Someone had to make the supreme sacrifice so the rest of us could survive. Panda was the weakest link.”

Then he tore her into relatively equal sized pieces and gave everybody their share.

“That’s ok,” said Empty Shell, “I’m on a diet.”

“You can have my piece Foxy,” I said, “I’m not that hungry.”

“I never eat before my first beer,” said Elfy.

“Eyes don’t actually eat,” said the Eye, “we just feast ourselves on visual delights.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” said Shagatha, and you could tell from her tone that she had a newfound respect for Foxy.

So Foxy devoured Pandamonia, and we all enjoyed the peace and quiet for a bit.

And then our prayers were answered, as we heard the distant rumble of the sidewalk plow. We collapsed into one another’s arms, sobbing with joy. “Over here!” we screamed weakly, our voices snatched away by the wind, “Over here!” We waved our scarves at the approaching plow.

After the plow had passed, the passage to Elgin Street opened up and we were there in no time. We went up and down the street looking for the Tally-Ho Tavern but we couldn’t find it. Shelly kept saying Elgin Street didn’t look the same as she remembered.

 After everything we’d been through, we felt pretty demoralized that we couldn’t find the Tally-Ho Tavern.

We finally gave up on the Tally-Ho and decided to try somewhere else instead. Nobody knew which place to try, and there were a LOT of places. We felt like we’d just fallen off the Turnip Truck. While we were standing around weighing our options, the Autonomous Eye accidentally rolled down a flight of stairs. He was mildly embarrassed and looked around to see if anybody had noticed. He peered in the window of the door beside him, and said “This looks like a most unusual spot.”

The others went down the stairs and peered in and announced that it appeared to have food and beer! It met all our criteria! So we decided to go inside.

I was worried. I watched the others go in, and I just stood there shuffling from one foot to another, looking at the little staircase and the door. It was also so narrow and twisty. I didn’t think I could squeeze in there – not without help, anyway.

But then I guess the others noticed I hadn’t gone in with them, and they came out and got me. They turned me on my end and said things like “Lift your end a little higher and turn her clockwise a bit,” and the next thing you know, my friends had manouevered me through the little doorway. I was so happy.

We stood in the little bar and waited for our eyes to acclimatize. Truth be told, we were suffering from a touch of snow-blindness. But then as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I could scarcely believe what I was seeing! Oh my God! It was love at first sight!

I fell head over heels in love with a red booth!

Isn’t he the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever seen?  

Red Booth

To be continued….. 

Where: The Usual Spot

Who: Shagatha, Third Elf, Foxy, Autonomous Eye, Empty Shell, La Chaise, Pandamonia

When: 12:00 pm sharp, give or take. We waited several extra minutes for Megan, but she didn’t show up. Elfy cried so we admired his feet and he cheered right up.

Beer was ordered. No beans. (We don’t know what that means, but we wrote it down on the minutes napkin, and so we must faithfully transcribe it.)

There was a heartful exchange of gifts, including some lovely Queen’s Silver Jubilee jewelry and delicious foodstuffs. We split Megan’s gifts seven ways.

We discussed Megan’s generous offer of a free blog consultation [redacted] and are taking it under advisement at this time.

We welcomed Pandamonia as the newest member of the Bank Street Irregulars. Pandamonia started to make a little speech about humble beginnings or some such thing. I wasn’t really paying attention.  Shagatha told her not to get too far ahead of herself, because unlike certain other group blogs, the BSIs have some standards with respect to quality and quantity of posts. Pandamonia will not be accepted as a full-fledged member of the BSIs until she actually posts something. There will be no deadwood on our blog. No coat-tail clingers. No dingleberries. We won’t be tricking anybody into posting or thinking up easy jobs for them to do. No. Either they post or we kick ’em out and they go find work over on Elgin Street. Pandamonia looked scared.

After we got that settled we ordered breakfast and sat around the table like a murder of fucking crows, talking about people behind their backs.

Then we discussed whether our team was complete or if we needed still more members. [redacted]

We brainstormed about new directions for our blog and carved out areas of expertise for each of our team members. [redacted]

We critiqued the art on the walls and wondered if the chef just dashed it off in his spare time or what.

Breakfast arrived. Everybody loved their breakfast except for Shagatha, who had ordered a veggie burger and was given mushrooms on a bun. A consultation between the chef and the waitress yielded the following explanation: “That’s how we do veggie burgers now.” The waitress insisted on replacing the veggie burger with a badly burnt vegetarian pizza. Shagatha did not look pleased. We were all scared. Shagatha called the waitress back and showed her the blackened bottom of her pizza. The waitress looked scared. An offer was made and accepted: Shagatha could have all her bad food for free, and they’d give her an extra beer too.

We discussed the location for the next Emergency meeting. Despite the plethora of eating establishments on Bank Street, we seem to have an unfortunate shortage of licensed breakfast places.

“We could take the ESIs up on their offer to visit Elgin Street, ” Foxy suggested. There was much excitement around the table as we made plans for the journey. There are many details to take care of, so we wrote a To-Do list:

get passports
get visas
hire sherpas
borrow luggage
get shots for Spotted Yellow Typohoid Fever and malaria
get drops for the Eye
arrange for fumigation for La Chaise before returning to Bank Street
arrange quarantine for Foxy
visit Google Maps and print out the directions to Elgin Street
make arrangements for Elfy’s alley cats. (Empty Shell offered to look after them, but we reminded her that she won’t be available that day.)

Then we talked about how to properly acknowledge the ESIs’ welcome message, which warmed the cockles of our great big hearts. We decided we’d like to reciprocate their generous offer and invite the ESIs to visit Bank Street. It’s really a world-class tourist destination. We have all kinds of cool stuff on Bank Street. We’ve got pigeons, a bridge, a falling-down hotel, and lots and lots of banks. We even have a grocery store!

At this point, some dude at the next table leaned over and said “Say, aren’t you guys the Bank Street Irrelevants? I read your blog all the time, I’m a huge fan.”

“And you?” asked Elfy, “Who might you be?”

davewoods.ca said the young man. Who then insisted he is not part of any group blog. Even though 3rd Elf narrowed his eyes the second time he asked. Davewoods.ca looked scared.

We then took pictures of ourselves trying on all the napkin rings (photos to follow once the Eye gets focused), adjourned the meeting and went shopping for redacted.

The meeting was scheduled to commence at 12:00 sharp at the Usual Spot, but Shagatha and her personal assistant were fashionably late, due to some problem with the limousine driver’s attire.

The first item on the agenda was a discussion of the menu and why it had so many organs on it: kidneys, pork bellies, liver, etc. Everybody ordered beer and breakfast except Fox, who ordered beer and brunch.  Everybody carefully avoided the organs.

While waiting for breakfast (and brunch), we consumed beer, admired Third Elf’s curly feet and tackled one of the more existential questions on the agenda: What is our purpose?

We noted that Aggie got shagged this week, and we are pleased to think we played some part in this. Shagatha moved that we send an approving nod in Aggie’s general direction. Motion carried. Everybody nodded approvingly in an easterly direction.

Next item on the agenda: What are they thinking? After much speculation, we are forced to concede we don’t know what they are thinking, only that they are thinking, which is a favourable development. High fives all round.

We look forward with great anticipation to the upcoming post by Conch Shell, whom we previously believed to be imaginary.

La Chaise paused briefly from taking minutes to show off her outer space pen. Foxy suggested that she take the minutes upside down from now on.

The Autonomous Eye reported on his progress in seeking out the true identity of the Fourth Dwarf.  Things are looking  promising, very promising indeed. It’s only a matter of time.

After eating breakfast (and brunch), we discussed in great detail the formal challenge issued to us by the ESIs. The concept of a showdown at midnight on New Years Eve on Somerset Street between Elgin and Bank does hold a certain appeal. (“Showdown?” asked Empty Shell, “I thought they said ho-down!”)

As much as we are intrigued by this challenge, the timing simply does not work for the BSIs. It’s very late notice for a New Years Eve challenge. Plans have been made for months now, and deposits have been paid.

  •  Shagatha has a tryst planned with Count Vlad at the Romanian castle. 
  • Third Elf plans to spend New Year’s Eve trolling the bars for some female companionship with whom to ring in the New Year in a meaningful sort of way.
  • Empty Shell  has booked her flight to Sydney already, where she will ring in the New Year at some place called the Gimcrack with some guy she just met on the Internet.
  • The Eye has been short-listed for the job of Falling Ball in Times Square. We’re all very excited for him.
  • La Chaise has a date with a lounge lizard.
  • Foxy is keeping his options open, but thinks he might do a little philosophical reflection on the past year while eating pigeons.

Given our current social commitments, we must reluctantly decline the ESI’s New Year’s Eve challenge, but encourage them to try again when we’re not so busy.

We also considered the other challenge put to us by the ESIs: to see which group blog could write profiles of all their members first. Given that it has taken the ESIs one year to write one profile, and it has taken the BSIs one week to write two profiles, we unanimously and enthusiastically agreed to accept this challenge.

The meeting was adjourned promptly at 2:00. 

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