Cinco de Mayo
The latest issue of The Newsletter is all about Mexico! My column is titled "Cinco de Mayo, or How Mexico Told the French Where to Shove It." I love Cinco de Mayo, but I've got to tell you, after researching and writing my column and putting together the issue, I think I'm all Cinco de Mayoed out. So, congratulations to our Mexican brothers for successfully thwarting naked French aggression. Sorry about taking away half your country in the Mexican War... except not really. We used it for all kinds of useful things, like California (movies) and Texas (we all need someone to hate), the Grand Canyon and Devil's Tower. Anyway, Cinco de Mayo. Woo hoo!

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
You know what I'd like to see? Ms. Deschanel in a sombrero. Hee hee hee.

Danger!
I mowed the lawn this afternoon. Exciting stuff. But once I'd finished, I decided to have a little fun. I decided to run the lawnmower back to the shed; after all, why walk when you can run? Running is fun! I was off! Of course, I was about halfway through the yard when the bag fell off the mower. I saw it plain as day, but there was not sufficient time to react. At a dead run, I plowed into the bag, banging the living fuck out of my left shin on the rigid opening and getting my feet knocked out from under my after gettint tangled in the fabric. One moment, I'm running with idiotic abandon behind a lawnmower; the next, I'm airborne. It's a funny sensation, travelling parallel to the gound. Of course, then I landed on my face. Except for the fact that my shin still hurts like a motherfucker, it was awesome! I ran, I tripped, I flew, I fell down. What's not to love? I think that's a fundamental difference between boys and girls: for boys, falling flat on your face can make your whole day.