that I’m refusing to post to the blog.  I’m selling it.  Somehow.  Have to edit it, print it, double-space it, and there I am.  The journalist, teacher, writer, more-so-journalist.

What the fuck are they watching on the other side of the door, in that big theatre room?  Something about sex, or STD’s, what.  Gross.  Need a walk.  Told myself this would be a no-spending day, but that won’t happen, as I’m hungry and will need something from the caf’ which isn’t a big deal since I have to get oil for that goddamn Passat (what I call the “Panzer toboggan”)… anyway, I’m buying self lunch.  But what.  Burrito?  Burger?  Grilled turkey & cheese?  WHAT?!?