Friday, January 13, 2017

"Now is the Winter of our discontent."

Or as we say in advertising: "Now is the Winter of our Discount Tent. Come on down to Tent King, on West Pico, right next to Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles, and save 20%, 30%, 40% or more on every tent, every sleeping back, every air mattress. It's the Winter of Discount Tent Tentathon and every tent must go."

That's all to say, I've had a rough start of it this morning. A rough start just hours after last night's agency holiday party.

First, I had an early meeting with a young man who wants to break into the creative side of the business.

I was in a car heading west, making progress, early enough so I could even do a smidgen of work before my 8:30 meeting.

Then, I noticed that my front tooth--tooth #24--the tooth that has bothered me since I fell down a flight of stairs over 55 years ago, well, I had forgotten to insert my temporary prosthetic tooth.

I looked like a wizened and aged Alfred E. Newman.

So I rolled out of my car and rolled into a cab. 

"Help me," I said to the driver. 

We hustled to my apartment. I ran upstairs. I got my tooth and ran back.

The cabbie waited and we sped to my office.

Early and fully dentified.


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