The following handwritten letter was discovered folded into a paper airplane, but crumpled and left on the sweltering marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

I’ve got my sights set on my new hottie optometrist, Dr. Peepshow. He tells me that by the time I go blind with conjunctive stink-eye glaucoma, scientists will have developed beer goggles for seeing dudes who have trouble scoping out googly-eyed chicks at last call. So I’m like totally set! However it’s possible I’m just simply allergic to invisible air particles that can’t be seen, but my random guess could be my new Pollen Power perfume & Hay Fever body lotion. Hell, maybe it's the cat dander plug-in air freshener with suspect salmonella detector (so no worries about contraband tomatoes I got from the unventilated sawdust mill & dust mite colony). Later tonight after I drop acid with Rudolpho Superslice, Glarg Jimmypants and Peter Fartancockles, we’re going to the ridiculous name conference in Turdcrap City over in Flatulence County.

I’m even having baked beans for dinner,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Lalah Hathaway, “Tragic Inevitability”