Max Shepard ate a McRib yesterday.
Jeremy Roye sold his acura.
Lenny Adler bought a $1.00
chocolate bar from a seven
year old in a Catholic school
uniform on the Q train. I ate
it for breakfast.
Last night, on the History
Channel, there was a show
about the universe exploding.
I'm sure America won't be
effected. And besides, that
sloppy kiss I dreamt of last
night was enough to take
the pain of mortality away.
Anna Carnochan told me
they make
shows like that so we'll
learn to appreciate things
such as popcorn. Bianca Martirossian
was wondering, at almost the same
time, if my Nonna had been killed
by the floods in Northern Italy.
If this doesn't seem like a conspiracy
theory to you, as intense as the wet
noses of Europe slurpping up the
fate of Amanda Knox with a bendy
straw, then I don't know what does.
