Attending Traci's fourth and final birthday party of the year and writing record reviews before I go to bed is a bad combination. I dreamt last night that David Bazan was dating my sister Sarah and we were all staying at my parent's house for the weekend.
He was pleasant enough and even furrier than in real life. We had a pretty good talk about his new album (I, of course, told him it was too country). I also told him he couldn't swear in front of my parents. He obliged.
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