Bah.

This journal started out as a great way to avoid homework. As such, I posted almost every day, knowing that this break from schoolwork was good for me. Yay!

Then it began to look more like a duty. I felt bad for missing a day. I grew frustrated when I didn�t have anything interesting to write about. I wrote less.

Does this make sense? Of course not. But I�m the sort of lazy bum who automatically puts off those things which I feel obligated to do. Go figure.

I thought writing about the New York trip would help. I seemed to forget about one detail: I was miserable in NYC. It wasn�t the place, it was the company. I shouldn�t have gone. It was on of the most idiotic decisions I have ever made. As a result, I have avoided D-Land for what, a month? Simply because I didn�t want to write about my stupid awful trip.

So to Hell with it. Bah, damned NYC trip. All right, all right, here�s a summary:

Every time we got on the subway, Carol freaked out. Really, really freaked out, simply because she was so worried about getting on the wrong train. She�d start screaming and yank us off the train until we were able to convince her everything was O-freaking-K.

I love Carol. I do. But she is a complete control freak, and sometimes I just can�t handle it.

I also got hugged by a smelly homeless lady with no teeth outside Macy�s. Freaked me out. I felt horribly guilty for being so freaked out, but it didn�t help. I was positive I wouldn�t be able to sleep for the rest of the week.

But there were a lot of good things, too. I loved all the psychics in Greenwich Village. I wanted to get my palm read for $5, but the rest of the bunch was too busy trying to get to specific places. Reason #1,367 why I should only travel with people like my mom. I like to wander at random. I am a lousy �sight-seer.� On the plus side, we ate at that super snazzy peanut butter restaurant, and I bought a lovely green skirt in the basement of the building Bob Dylan once lived in � so I guess the landmark-oriented travel had a benefit after all.

The medieval art exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art freaking ROCKED. I could have stayed there the whole trip. I also finally found the painting Springtime by Pierre-Auguste Cot. I have wanted a poster of it for years, but was hindered somewhat by the fact that I didn�t know it was by Cot, nor did I know it was called Springtime. My search has been based on the random (and, as it turns out, correct) assumption that it was a 19th century European piece. Not bad for someone who knows Jack about art, eh? So I finally have that poster, and it just makes my whole world better.

Two boots Pizza is tasty as heck. That�s right, you heard me. Tasty as HECK.

San bought me a 5-lb box of Twizzlers at the Hershey�s store in Time Square. Heaven. I knew San loved me.

Time Square was a nightmare of excess energy consumption. Even the police station has flashing neon lights. I forgave it, though, because I found a four story Toys �R� Us with a Ferris wheel inside. Giant toy stores can cure anything.

That and a 5-lb box of Twizzlers.

And a slice of oreo cheesecake the size of my head.

So now that I have that out of my system, maybe I�ll be around more often. I don�t make any guarantees though, because if I do that you�ll never see me again. Geez, I hate trying to trick myself that way.

I�d like to conclude with a lovely quote from Dr. Pharmacology: �There will be a lecture next week entitled �The Brain as a Sex Organ,� and you can see from this schematic that the brain is, in fact, an essential part of the reproductive system. Except, of course, within the teenaged population. I remain convinced that you cold remove their heads and they would still . . . er . . . reproduce.� Goodness, but he is a strange old man!