04.22.01 - 10:45 p.m.

I am a genius and there's no one around for me to tell this to. I am, really. I just wanted to call him up and say, "Hi babe, did you know you're dating a genius! Aren't you proud?" But he's not home and is a neanderthal without even an answering machine so I couldn't even leave a message informing him of said genius status. (How do these people exist? Even my moom has an answering machine, even though it has the recorded computer message and I can't get her to bend on that call waiting thing, which I guess she doesn't need now that her daughters have flown the coop.)

That was a run-on parenthesis. Even geniuses (genii? no, then I'd feel like Barbara Eden or Christina Aguilera) are allowed to have them sometimes, I suppose.

It is really terrible, though, when I am in such a good mood about myself and there is no one to share it with. I guess I must watch Space Ghost all by myself, with only my exceedingly swelled head for company. It's Chambrain! The shampoo for your brain!