05/11/2005 - 8:32 a.m. | it comes from the mountain

It is the next morning, and I am of the opinion that Redline energy drink is still fighting my system. The booze won out briefly, and I slept and had dreams about Lisa Loeb, but I am wide awake now, and that is simply not normal. We bought the energy drinks, Kyle and I, yesterday so that he could shake off answers to his final (rather than shaking off pounds and inches).

Killing a stick shift is pretty easy; killing an automatic takes some skill. And by skill I mean a crazy station wagon with a jury-rigged transmission from possibly a Vespa scooter, I'm not sure. Point is, it can be done.

Spritz's mom was sitting in his chair this morning (waiting?! for what?!) when I came down to cross the guard. I just keep thinking, "Nosferatu... nosferatu..." I don't know why. I am going to take a pill now. And maybe bum a j off some homeless guy because, man, this is making me tense [said all high-pitched, sort of sing-songy].