![]() Have you ever heard of someone throwing a jubilee? And if you did, would you go? Because I wouldn’t. My objection is that Jubilee isn’t a name-it’s some kind of a party. I think latex is probably bad for your skin because it doesn’t allow it to breathe.) My major concern, stripage-wise, is the latex. (I have no problem with strippers, in case any strippers are reading this. I play field hockey, which lacks the undulating, baby-oiled grace that is the stripper’s stock and trade. I’m sixteen, I sing in choir, I attend Mathletes events. I wear glasses half the time, and contacts the other half. If you saw me, you’d get the idea pretty quickly that I’m not a stripper (I think). You probably think I have heard the call of the pole. I realize Jubilee is a bit of a stripper name. “By the way, my name is Jubilee.” You wouldn’t know what to do next. Now imagine I was halfway through some long story (like I’m about to be), and I dropped that one on you. See, when you get it up front, it’s not that bad. ![]() I know from experience that if it comes up later, it will distract you so much that you won’t be able to concentrate on anything else I tell you. But before I take you into the beating heart of the action, let’s get one thing out of the way. Well, to be more precise, it was the afternoon before Christmas. And for all who toil behind the facade of a corporate monolith, for every person who has to say grande latte three thousand times a day, for every soul who's ever had to deal with a broken credit card reader in the holiday rush. ![]() For Hamish, who embodied the "go down the hill really fast, and if something gets in your way, turn" school of teaching me how to deal with a snowy slope.
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