I can't tell whether last night was good or not. When I was walking up to meet Sam it was so foggy. He was standing in the doorway smoking, and instead of hello I said, "If we're ever going to be attacked by werewolves, it's going to be tonight." The problem with last night was that I have a couple of friends that I don't really like at all. Sometimes I'm not in the mood for pretend friendliness, and I may have been a bit sharp, but when you smile afterwards, no one ever knows what you actually mean. There were good strangers at least, and Francis was good, and afterwards we had drinks with Cape Cod and she told us the secret key to getting a Fulbright while playing rock, paper, scissors with Sam. She won, three out of five.

So, I've been watching Battlestar Galactica and it's driving me furious. The robots have lost their minds to God, but they're making more sense than the humans. Anyway, it's over now, I am a person who watches Battlestar Galactica, and worse, I'm a person who talks about it in bars. Or a person who asks boys questions about what went on in the original. I don't remember anything. Luckily, boys like to talk about it, it's like they've been waiting all of their lives for the chance.

Now I have to do about fifteen things, but I'll probably only do three. I just want to get to tonight, when I'll work on questions with Michael and sit in the radio station while it hopefully rains outside. If the boys show up we'll go to see J.C. at his terrible bar and it will be awful and fun, I hope. I have all of these words saved up, and none of these are them, but it will get there. I'm going to go read my horoscope for the first time all year, and then I'll do what it tells me.