November 18, 2001

Woo!  I'm writing an entry before midnight, go me!  *Ahem*  Moving right along then, today shall be story time.  These stories are true, which is why they  don't conform to logic.                                   Magic Asprin I get headaches, lots of headaches.  Ask anyone.  One day during senior year of high school in photography I started to get a horrible headache.  I asked a friend if she had any asprin (and when I say asprin, I'm using it a catch-all for OTC pain killers).  SHe didn't, but was willing to ask around for some.  After a few minutes she got me what looked like regular old asprin from 'Vald' (not his real name, duh).  I went out and took them, my headache went away by lunchtime.  Also I was really giggily and space-cadety the rest of the day.  We think that this may not have been regular asprin.  In fact since Vald was on prescription painkillers after slicing off the better part of his thumb the previous week, we think it may have been enhanced with codiene.  Whatever the special ingridient was, it worked good, and made me a happy girl.  Then again, knowing Vald, it may not have been a painkiller at all.                             Fun with Cults I attract weirdos, I suspect this is because they can tell one of hteir own kind, but that's mere speculation.  I'm the girl who can be found in deep conversation with the local busker, or being hit on by old guys on public transportation. For some reason a cult saw me and decidced to converyt me from my hell-bound ways.  I took their phamplet nicely, and then promptly dumped it in trash.  ONe of them saw this (which since the trash can was about 2 feet away wasn't very hard).  He then came up to me and statrted to explain how the end was near and I would need to be saved so that I didn't end up suffering for eternity.  Since I was feeling combative this particular day, I told him that god was a myth anyways.  That was fun.  So then the guy started yelling at me about the soul.  Not a good idea to debate releigous theor with me cult boy.  More or less, I ended up talking about various ideas of god, and how everyone who's ever said the end was near turned out to be wrong.  Then I ended up walking away and quoteing scripture as my goodbye.  I like to think I made cult boy's day a little more interesting.                               Greyhound Greyhound buses, transportation of choice for the poor, the substance-abuser, the mentally ill, or all of the above.  I take Greyhound to get to Orlando, the land that gave America, Lou Pearlman record producer of evil.  Tampa's bus terminal isn't in a good area, it's in a part of town frequented by the sort of people who enjoy their malt liquor.  As opposed to this campus, where vodka is best.  The bus goes though the boondocks of Florida, for about 4 hours.  You meet interesting folks on the bus.  Once the woman next to me sang gospel the whole way down.  Another time a girl stood up at the front of the bus and begged for a ride to the airport.  Uh, honey, if we had cars we wouldn't be taking the bus.  Then there was the man who stunck of urine, and since the AC was broken made the ride back so lovely.  That's all for now folk.  Gimme a break, all I've had to eat today has been a handful of triscuts, a few donuts, and a tiny bowl of granola.