According to the clock on the computer, it's September 27. Did I miss something?

It saddens me deeply that I've been waking up before my alarm, which is set for 5 AM. Having your body naturally come awake at 4:45 should be a crime. A crime to onself it is, yes, but hot cops with handcuffs and whips should come haul you away if it happens. Hey...a girl can dream.

Today Darren and I are going to do the stupidest thing we've done in a while. We're going to try to leave the Cities during rush hour on the Friday before Memorial Day weekend. Wish me much luck and patience, my darlings, and if you don't hear from me for a while you'll know I've suffered a horrible road rage meltdown that caused my brain to implode.

However, this Friday can't be as bad as last Friday, I'm convinced. I worked until TEN THIRTY in the EVENING last Friday, stuffing and licking and posting. It sounds hot, but it totally wasn't. I also had two tickets to Star Party - with backstage passes to meet the bands - that had to go to waste. I couldn't pawn them off on anyone either...not that I thought to call my Duluth folks currently living down here. Stupid! That means we've all missed out on meeting the Backstreet Boys and Bowling for Soup and Ciara and Simple Plan and Mario (whoever Mario is).

So that's a pity.

Sundays are my day to miss home. My Sundays spent alone in this shoebox I now half-heartedly call home consist of listening to country music and crying like a little bitch. Every other day of the week, I'm completely content living where I do and doing what I do. There's just something about Sundays that makes me feel like an anti-social eight-year-old in the first leg of summer camp. Perhaps it has something to do with seeing my family and friends at graduation yesterday. I spent five hours in a car to spend five hours with my folks, yet I couldn't be happier I went. I wish I could have spent more time with my ladies though, as I miss them dearly.

By the way, Aurora, thanks for making me cry yesterday as well. On a Saturday. That's not my crying day, damn you! But you're very sweet and I miss you too.

Which brings me to my next topic: Camp Shack must happen this summer. I don't think June is going to work, unfortunately, so I'm going to have to try to find a weekend in July or August that works for everyone, or as many people as possible.

Also, an apology is probably in order for everyone I called last Saturday. I don't remember calling most of you and I can't be held accountable for anything I said. Unless, of course, it was good stuff I said, in which case I can be held completely accountable. I vow to never again spend nine hours at a bar. Not for the rest of May, at least.

One part of my job requires me to travel through the Skyway system to other areas of downtown. Yesterday, while taking care of this little piece of business, I fell - ROLLED - down a mini-flight of stairs. This was just after I was thinking, "Wow, my bruises from the bike accident have healed...maybe I'll wear a skirt to work on Monday." So much for THAT. The Skyway is a busy place too. Not really where a person would want to completely bite it. Sadly, it hardly embarrasses me anymore.

Graduation is next weekend and I'm so excited to go to Duluth and see everyone (well, some of everyone at least) that I could pop and ooze sticky, fatty globs of excitement all over everything within a twenty-foot radius. My, do I miss those crazy kids. (By the way, Alexis, you already know about my President Bush experience. Don't you pretend you don't.)

I wish I had more exciting stories to share. Work has taken over my life!

In my baseball player excitement, I forgot to tell about what my wonderful co-workers did for me for Secretary's Week. I got an adorable little bamboo plant and a thank you card signed by everyone in the office and a spa package for a manicure and a facial and a 60-minute massage AND I got to have lunch with the general manager on Wednesday in the hotel restaurant. We were there for an hour and a half and that's almost the coolest part to me because this guy's time is like gold.

It was great. I love my people.

Tonight I met Johan Santana. Good LORD, what a dreamy man!

If you know anything about me, you know how attracted I am to baseball players. I always wondered if I'd be attracted to baseball players out of uniform. I am! I told Darren to ask Johan if he wanted to sleep with his girlfriend (that's me). Johan's dad was there so he refrained.

It turns out there are quite a few big names, including big-name athletes, that stay at my hotel. Darren has been pointing out football players to me and telling me to commit their faces to memory in case I see them. I told him I'd never realize it if I walked past someone famous. Today I waslked past Johan Santana without a second look. Good thing Darren was there to point out The Man. I've had the President of the United States AND a Cy Young winner smile at me. I can die happy now.

Also, I saw Kirstie Alley at Target on Friday. It's weird how famous people are in big cities.

On Saturday, I went up north, got drunk at the shack and licked the salt block for the sake of photography. Twice.

And that's what's new with me. Pardon the choppiness. Someday I'll get better at this writing thing; however, right now I'm too smitten to string together coherent thoughts.