I have a gorgeous bruise on my arm from where a techie accidentally slammed a desk on it, my feet are asleep, and I can't start the dishwasher without it belching bubbles and spitting silverware at me. There really isn't much else to be said.

The sophomores in pre-IB Chem are studying moles and particles. They had to make their own moles and bring them to school. I find this unfair, seeing as I never had such an assignment. The most interesting Chem assignment I ever had was to wander around like a water molecule, and I'd rather not dwell on that memory...

Lucentio made his mole out of an old Hawaiian shirt. Grumio's was a pinata. Lird's looked like the offspring of a cheerful football and a plush polar bear and spent several minutes stuck to the ceiling.

You see, when dramarats are left unsupervised, they throw stuffed moles at the ceiling. Lird was pretty traumatized by that.

The senior officers are trying to find a speaker for graduation. Laura Bush is too busy that day, if you can imagine that, and now there's talk of getting a radio DJ to speak. A few people, including myself, are wondering if Neil Gaiman is free on June eleventh. Its worth considering...

Yes, well, now that I've asserted my livelihood, I'll go back to being comatose.

Adieu.