And it's the greatest voyage in the history of plastic.

Nine deaths and counting.

It's not the most optimistic mindset to have right now, but it seems to be the only one to have.

In order - R.I.P: Farrel Sutton, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Eddie McMahon, Ms. Lela's father, Billy Mays, Anne, Jimmy Susan Suarez McLean, Ms. Julie's dad.

I don't have it in me to cry.

I haven't felt at all like blogging lately. There really hasn't been much happening that's even close to equal up to blogging status.

Yesterday, I went to Busch bright and early with Ali. We dedicated the whole day to using British, properly English, accents. We convinced Jacob that she was from Nottingham and he gave her five dollars (a "fiver") to go buy something to drink because it was almost tea time. We then lurked around Davinci's Cradle and did a waltz, the tango, the salsa, and the macarena. EPIC ALERT When we did the tango, a black man walked passed and started humming a song for us to tango to. Also, whilst we were doing the macarena, we asked people to join in... the only person to join in? A very tall, very toned black man.

I had to wake up at eight to go over to Ms. Cheryl's house to babysit Sofia and Xander this morning. I'm tired. At least I did a full blog today. I'm going to go take a nap and dream of fit men.

Guten.