I only have a month left to learn hangeul.

This is how California sometimes made me feel.


Probably because they have dumpsters for this.


But Lake Arrowhead was nice.


Dick Clark owns a house up there. John Candy once did. The cousin's boyfriend's dad gave a boat tour of the million dollar waterfront properties; he'd installed a lot of rich people's alarm systems.

I got my mother-f-ing medical clearance form back in the mail while I was in California. Apparently it is not enough to have a doctor sign off that someone has looked up my vagina in the last twelve months, but before the state department will send me to Korea, she must detail exactly what she saw while she was there. The form was supposed to be fixed and returned by tomorrow. Do not ask me how much I have spent at the Federal Express in the last month and a half.

I have to up in four and a half hours to go to a funeral in Baltimore. My grandmother's brother-in-law, that is, my father's uncle, whom I barely knew, went into the hospital the day after his and my grandmother's sister's 35th wedding anniversary and died a week later. But I'm still on Pacific time.


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