I am at Conan’s house. A party is about to start. I have a difficult task dictated by instructions printed on folded cardboard cards. Each successive clue, however, makes my job somewhat easier, culminating simply in "play Foreigner real loud.” People start to arrive in rusty jeeps. I check my guitar in its black case. My pal J complains that some of the guests will be “girl hogs.”
Rowdy’s Dream Blog #298: I Hope There Aren’t A Bunch Of Girl Hogs At The Party.
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