FROM THE MEAT LOCKER

Holy cats, the temperature in our office is hovering around 60 degrees. Tim has split the scene, Laura is wearing a faux fur coat, Ryan is draped in a burqa-esque headdress, my fingers are frozen, and Brian Sweany isn’t returning our calls. And our e-mail server is down. Miserable. I’m afraid further FrontBurner postings today will be slim to none. Sorry. Ahh–choo.

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