Fifteen seconds of fame later, a discussion of palindromes ensued and Shih unnecessarily informed me I had too much time on my hands, then proceeded to tell me about her visions. More interesting than Avogadro’s Number, anyway.

In the last few days I’ve managed to choke on a glass of milk, bake a green cake, do a two-hour take-home test in forty-five minutes (the period before it was due), acquire a publicity agent, be christened Zippy Martinez, see a pretty good production of She Stoops to Conquer, watch Fantasia and Moulin Rouge in rapid succession (don’t do it, its painful), pick up a Maastricht jacket, clean my room, help the little Gorgon with a research paper, and have a dream about a gas station surmounted by an enormous gold statue of the Emperor Tiberius and manned by a licorice-buying, gas-pumping Harrison Ford.

Just in case anyone was craving updates. I need to start writing regularly again so I can spread out the inanities a little more.

Mao and I decided to move Good Friday up a little bit. Therefore, she is now free to bite the kneecaps off as many people as she chooses, and I’m free to read Sartre. Which I think I will do, rather than draw up my IB Spanish oral.

Heaven bless consumptive koalas.

Adieu.