I finally got googled, and guess what it was for? Barely Legal Barnyard Sluts, you say? Wrong! It was for "Morning Edition theme." Is that sad or what?
I'm writing to you from the information desk right now, and this creepy guy with a toothy perma-smile keeps coming over to use the stapler. He's been here every day for about a week, stapling away. At one point just a second ago he picked it up, tried to staple his papers, and then turned to me and hissed, "There are no more staples." He's a pretty dedicated stapler, stapling at least 40 or 50 times a day, and I was afraid for a second there that he might pee in his pants if he remained unable to staple, but luckily I found the back-up stapler in time, and all was well.
Sad news: Adam and I are probably not going to be famous after all. Apparently the South Baton Rouge Journal went under while Keith was writing the story. There's some chance that the journal might reemerge under different ownership, so I'll keep you posted.
My roommate left today for that thing she's doing in north Georgia. By the time she gets back, I'll be on my way to Seattle. Also, Adam left today on a work-related trip to Seattle, of all places, and he won't be back until Sunday. (Did I ever mention in this journal that he's a union organizer? He's a union organizer.) I'm going to miss them both, but I'm kind of excited about all this time to myself, which I haven't had a lot of lately. I'm especially interested in getting to bed at an early hour with no alcohol in my system for two nights in a row, and walking around my apartment in my underwear singing show tunes, and making pagan sacrifices of live chickens in the kitchen. (Okay, maybe I'll just do one or two of those things.)
I was supposed to hang out with weezer1d last night, but since it was Yvette's last night, and Ms. Weezer already had plans herself, we put it off until later this month, when she comes back to N.O. I do want to meet her, partly because she's obviously really cool and has a library tattoo, but also partly because people keep leaving mysterious messages in my guestbook about how she's my doppleganger (or maybe I'm her doppleganger? I'm not sure how that works). I'm not sure I really trust these people, though, because I think that non-redheads tend to think all redheads look exactly alike. Yvette is a redhead but looks nothing like me, and people invariably think we're sisters and sometimes ask if we're twins. (They never think Yvette is related to her actual sister, who has brown hair.)
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