30 April 2002 - 7:09 p.m.

What can I say about today? When really, yesterday was so gosh-darned eventful.

Here's a story I meant to share before the ham bash proved so eventful. It's what Prof. McHotHot started class with yesterday:

"My junior year of college, I wnet to the University of York in the north of England for a year. At this University, there was a professor who, once a year, would give a lecture on King Lear that always culminated in that professor weeping uncontrollably. And when he began to weep, the lecture would be over.

Now, I don't really know what it was about this play that could affect him so deeply, and so predictably. Mayeb he was a father who was betrayed by his children. Maybe he was just a melancholic. All I know is that the year I was at York, shortly after the weeping began, the professor got his foot stuck in a garbage can, and was unable to extract it. So he just went on weeping and lecturing with the grabage can on his foot.

Clearly, alcohol was involved."

While I'm sure P McHH would know better than I, why is it always assumed that when something wacky goes down, alcohol was involved?

Like last night, I emailed my friend Dr. Sanderson to say that, at the ham bash, Aitch had revealed the logic, or lack thereof, of wearing yellow socks every day. Well, this was like, way too much for Doc, who wrote back:

Date: Mon, 29 Apr 2002 23:55:33 -0400

From: t**

To: Jennifer R P*********

Subject: Re: fyi...

I'm flooded with questions! Such as:

What?

Why?

and

You were having dinner at his house?

Was he drunk?

Were you drunk?

What on Earth is going on?

I'm going to need some time to dwell on this...

-confuzzed smurf

See? See how everyone just assumes that if Aitch said something mildly personal, alcohol was involved?? Granted, it was! So why am I being so emphatic!?!

This entry just turned over on itself, didn't it?

Aw, nuts.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: