I just took the white pill, so if I start to trail off in a few sentences, trust me, it's the work of the Vicodin. Most of my day was spent trying to get my mouth to stop bleeding, or else I THINK that's how I spent my day. With the white pill, it's tough to judge what really happened and what just seemed to have happened--it's as though the brain ray was accidentally set to slobber monkey.

Here's a cultural change for you. My dad married my mom when he was 22 years, 8 months, and 19 days old. I am presently 22 years, 8 months, and 18 days old. Ridiculous. Outrageous.

My typing is becoming labored. Happy sleepy time nears. I'll write more later, when my head is clear and in proper working order, but I'll leave you with this little tidbit: Whoever thought that the four cheeses in four cheese mashed potatoes should be cheddar, mozzarella, ricotta, and BLEU?