Every time I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, I wonder why. It's not like a single one of these experiments has ever proven me wrong. I'm trying to be fair to people, and I'm really staring to regret that. Case in point: last night after The Daily Show, the Flying Dutchman and I watched Leno's opening monologue. Sweet merciful crap! The man was doing Clinton intern "jokes"! (Clinton intern jokes? Somebody get this man a calendar!) Ugh. So, the Dutchman's prestige took another direct hit, since after this horror he still had the nerve to say, "Okay, there may have only been two good laughs," an overestimation, I assure you, "but that's still two more than we would have had watching Letterman." The kid may very well have to be downgraded from "respectable" to "another worthless friend of Brad." I swear, except for me, the kid's friends are a sorry lot. I'm no prize, but these kids are pathetic.

It is hot and humid on this the first day of October. It's the kind of day when I'd skip class if I still had any. But I don't; so, that simple pleasure is denied me.

I left a message at Lindsay's last night. It's been nearly two weeks since we talked, and we've been playing phone tag the entire time. It's infuriating. (Potential nicknames for Linz: George Bernard Shaw, or George; Edna, since St. Vincent Millay is her favorite poet; Tiger, as she also loves Blake; Palindrome Girl, since she said it had to be lucky to be 22 in 2002.)