I think I’m getting sick, which is weird, because my diet almost exclusively consists of Gummy Vites. Oh wait, actually, that makes sense. Carry on, illness.

Anyway, today I mingled. I hate mingling. I hate the word “mingling” and everything each of its inbred syllables connotes. I had this don’t say cult don’t say cult Cult Council of One Hundred NU networking event in the Fulbright building today and, minus the part where I want to be Facebook-married to brie cheese, it reminded me vaguely of the bar-mitzvah scene I so loathed eight years ago. At least back then I couldn’t see anything (oh yeah, when I was in junior high I used to go blind instead of wearing my glasses in public places… I’m an idiot). But I guess on the whole it was harmless.

Earlier I got to go to the Smithsonian National Museum of American History for a press conference with the creator of the X-Files (whom I’m fairly and uncomfortably certain checked me out), which was pretty sweet. The museum’s been closed for renovation for two years, so I felt super-cool-journalist getting shuttled through it. Oh, and I wrote a blog post. But you know, because I’m the intern, I don’t get a byline. They didn’t change anything (except to make the intro third-person), so that’s probably a good sign.

New theory: if my life was like The Truman Show, there would be a backstage specialist called the Metro Odor Technician. He (or she, we’re equal-opportunity) would be responsible for inventing smells, brewing them in vats at metro stations, then dipping actors into the vats and sending them to sit with me on the metro. Today’s Odor du Jour: Three-Day-Old Corpse Marinated in Campbell’s Chicken Soup (With Stars!). I wonder what the Metro Odor Technician’s intern would have to do…



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