I keep forgetting to mention the nastiest thing that’s just down the street from me, scaring me late at night. At my corner 7-Eleven. Sushi. Is there nothing more disturbing than the thought of someone buying a lottery ticket, a container of sushi and a grape Gatorade Ice? Bleagh.

I would love to launch Call Me Batshit Crazy: The Mariah Carey Monologues.

He gave me one of my first pep talks at the first JournalCon, gave me advice a few months ago, and he continually makes me feel better. Thanks, John.

The Concordian of Concorida College, Moorhead, Minnesota, reviews WGAW.

This entry in Oblivio will stay with me for a while. What the hell would I have done if I met that woman? I’m one of those people who tends not to state the obvious. It took Jeff and me three days to finally admit we were worried about the woman at the yoga clothes…

Long-time reader Heith wrote to me bragging about his new gig at Citizen Robot, a pop culture review site.

Here and here.

My Gilmore Girls recap is up. Journal entry coming soon.

We can’t stop sneezing. There’s so much smoke and haze in the air. I wake up and blow my nose and find clumps of blood. Breathing is no fun these days. Shopping is no fun, either. Supporting the strike means you can’t go to Albertsons, Ralph’s, Pavillions or Vons, which means two options: Gelson’s/Mayfair, which…

Driving home, late. The hour was questionable, as daylight savings time might have started, and the hour might have been rolled back, but it was late enough that the highway was mostly empty, and the road was quiet. Edie Brickell was playing, and soothed me into that nice roadtrip lull. I turned off the heater,…