i'm trying ot make plans with carl's family to go camping. i have yet to decide whether the planning is worse than the event actually will be.

the couch in j.d.'s living room on scrubs is exactly the same as our in the early eighties

here's a poem i wrote for a college friend
A madman - genius in our presence
Sang songs I sometimes understood
And felt priviledged
And he would say,
"What do you mean, man" a lot
But sometimes he just knew
And let me love him

so i've been on yahoo mail looking for something and now i know why i don't use it - slowest friggin thing EVER - where's a good abacus when you need one