I cannot say exactly what happened to the last two months. I tripped, slipped, and slept through nearly half a semester, and four paycheck periods without taking the slightest note to the world around me. I have been developing my dorky side by reading a good portion of the canon of literature, and of course waiting tables. I hate waiting tables. I have to remind myself every time some creep makes a pass at me or some bitch refuses to know the words “thank you,” that it is the struggle that keeps me hungry. I learned a good joke last night; “What is the difference between a waitress and a proctologist?… A proctologist only has to serve one asshole at a time.” I found out last week that I got into UCI, and I’ll be starting in January as a creative writing major. I am nervous, exited, and completely unaware of what I’m getting myself into. We relocated from our dwelling on 15th street which we cherished for over three years, and you can now find us between 9th and 10th street in a much more plush beach pad. Jennavieve will be here in 12 days and counting, and life will change as we know it. I cannot wait.