L. was also wearing tie-dye. She is so not like me.
I think I might start telling people that my parents were killed by hippies. That being the source of my hatred of them. Maybe I was in the room when it happened and they were wearing patchouli and every time I smell patchouli now, I get flashbacks. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When I smell patchouli. That’s good.
Maybe it would have been a ritual killing. The hippies tied my parents and my sister and myself to our dining room chairs (the …

Here’s the problem with the blog.
1. I’ll write here and sometimes it’ll be good.
2. I’ll meet pretty girls and I’ll want to tell them about the blog so they can see how smart and clever and witty I am.
3. I’ll then be dating one of said pretty girls but I won’t be able to write about her (or the other pretty girls, if there are any).
It’s a tough situation. Hold your tears. I’ll be fine.
One solution is to have two blogs. A secret “all about girls” blog and a public …

I still don’t have a job and I’m running out of money.
I’m reading more than usual, which is good.
Alice and Magaly and Adrian are happy to have me here.
San Francisco is fucking gorgeous and I’m thrilled to be here.
There are quite a few “people in disguise” here. They look cool and interesting but aren’t.
Girls are going to be fun here.
Girls are fun and have always been fun.
More fun? The same fun? Fun.
I stole some high speed internet (wireless) from some of Alice’s neighbors.
I am grateful for them (the neighbors).
I am …