Nutty Nuggets

Good morning, Zurn. How do you feel? Just fine, thanks. Why do you ask? No reason. Lots to do today including educatin' all these brats. Yesterday Shirelle and I went up to Universal City Walk (For those of you unfamiliar with Angel City, Universal City Walk is a shining city on a hill where people go to worship expenditure), paid the six bucks to park ("Do you get a car wash with that? No? How about a blow j--nevermind.") in the Temple of Doom. We feasted on Carolina Honeys, beef and pork ribs, sweet and tangy-spicy at Tony Roma's, with roast chicken, corn on the cob, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, squash, rice, and fries. I had an iced tea. Michelle had a beer, two. Then we saw Waterworld, a bit of preposterous fun, not worth commenting on.

I went to the market and got some Nutty Nuggets cereal, the generic form of Grape Nuts, to clean my colon, I guess. The checkout clerk and I had a little chuckle. I got some red grapes and some Gatorade and non-fat milk, a few gallons of water, some apples, pineapple, orange juice, and shampoo. Whoo! What a health kick! I'll be dipping pizza in mayonnaise between crack hits by nightfall.

I put the Cowboys/Giants on the TV and I taped Van Morrison and Ennio Morricone, and read a field guide to mushroooms. It seems the fun kind grow just about anywhere there's dung. Smile.

Ugh. I need to hurry and write these three pages. I'm at school now. The kids are writing in their journals about their Labor Day weekends. I haven't been working on any of my stories the last few days. I wonder why not. Maybe I suspect they're crap not worth wasting time on. Marlene Frank said she was going to send Miracle Mile to Houghton Miflin. I need to finish it. Add in the homeless character and the Indian physicist.

Blah blah blah. What else? Can't stop 'til three pages are done. Ugh. I waver on getting one of those Power Books. Then I could type away from home. I wish I taught high school sometimes. Then maybe I could type in class. Yeah, right. Kcuf. So, Edwin here's dad killed a bird. I can't think around these kids. Someone stole my tarpits poster. Ugh. Uckf.

One more page. No one could possibly still be reading. All work and no play. I'm reading The Dead Zone, one of the few King novels I didn't read in high school. Josh Hayden and Ken Boudakian are playing tonight at Club Luna. Ripken ties Gehrig's record tonight. Nomo pitches against the Phillies. I have to put at least one more page to the tarpit story today. I want a new desk and new clothes and a new house. I should visit my dad and his wife and see their vacation photos from Europe and listen to their shullbit. I should try to get the $200 my brother borrowed. Yeah, right. I should get my driver's license. I should get a haircut. Tomorrow is picture day at school. I need to call the Page Museum. Blah blah blah shut fick batch crip cuck cont isshole dack poopoo caca weewee peepee toilet flush garbledegook can't think.