There once was a teacher named Wade
Who was grossly underpaid
He read Heart of Darkness,
And, floored by its starkness,
Said, "At least it's better than The Plague.

That, friends, is the limerick that BEAT CHAD in Mr. Wade's "Poetry Survivor" and won me the super-chouette Lord of the Rings foil valentines (complete with platonic (or is it just...?) Sean Astin cards and gay romance Marry-and-Pippin cards).

So I may have lost the shoes I wore in Kick the Can, which apparently are my dad's most expensive pair. Now my whole family's angry at me. I lose so much shit all the time, and it usually ends up being my parents'. I'd like to think it's because I'm a fairly non-materialistic person in that I don't really care about my stuff, and my parents are probably more materialistic than me; but I can see why they'd be peeved that I lost something of theirs. I'm just so absent-minded with physical possessions; I don't care about them, so I never notice them.

The search continues for contact information for former Milton students who go to NYU. I mentioned that it might be a good idea to get in touch with Mark Sayre or Maschmeyer up there, and now my parents have latched onto the idea, and they want me to call their parents and get their numbers. I don't really want to go through all that trouble, and these kids probably don't want to talk to me anyway...

And if you're scheduling travel plans around me, I'm leaving monday morning and coming back tuesday evening.