So I’m sitting there in a spicy pickle induced nightmare in the bathroom at work when my phone vibrates. It’s an alarm I set to remind me to buy tickets for the Kevin Smith show at the Sixth & I Historic Synagogue on 4/22. So I’m really in a pickle here… (rim-shot). I have 5 minutes to either finish my business and hope that there are not enough Smith fans in the DC area to sell out the show in 10 minutes or accelerate this mission and get back to my desk.
I’m sure the new Kev would just light up a joint and twitter something irreverent, but I’m talking about the old Kev. The guy that maxed out his credit cards to make a movie about roof hockey and dick jokes. That’s my Edmonton Gretzky, a guy with natural talent who gets things done. So I pinched off that spicy mother and got back to the desk with minutes to spare. Got the tickets and am now writing this post.