"Rosebud...I mean...SCHWING!!"

Never before have I actually been happy about that spring forward, fall back thing until last night. It was 1:58, then 1:59, then, BOOM, 3am. Granted, that made it only a little less hellish, but I will take what I can get. I gave Phil a call in Miami and charged the rather large bill to the hospital, but I’m okay with that. We spoke of may things…we figured out what animals we would be, then, finding that way too easy (it took about 3 minutes) we decided to figure out which historical/political figures we are. In the end, we decided that Will is a Golden Retriever or a St. Bernard, trustworthy, sleek, helpful, and very hairy. Phil was a jungle cat, something slinky and dark and swarthy, very swarthy, a puma or jaguar or lynx or panther, you dig. I myself was a duck-billed platypus. No explanation necessary. As far as the political/historical figures, we figures I was the Roman Emperor, Caligula, who, aside from making his horse his chief advisor, would also take swims in a pool filled with little boys would were instructed to nip his naked body like small fish while he was in it. Again, no explanation necessary. We discussed Cardinal Richelieu for Phil but couldn’t make up our minds. We then debated about Will for awhile eventually agreeing that he was far too nice to be an actual figure from history, so we were trying to figure out which mythical figure from American history he best resembles. We never actually nailed it down, although William Tell was a forerunner. Along with that interesting little moment we also discussed which of us will die first and why. VERY enlightening. Then there was this:
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1:38 AM 4/4/04
So, this is weird. Every late night/early morning shift I have at the Hospital, there’s this guy, Jardine, I think his name is, who pokes his head around the corner of my switchboard and gives me this sly, knowing look as he hands me a Styrofoam cup full of ice. Yeah. A Styrofoam cup of ice. Nothing else, just ice. See, that would be a little odd but for that knowing glance he gives me. As if he’s saying, “Oh…you know…” or “Yup, another shift, another cup of ice…” And sometimes I wonder if he would be angry to know that as soon as he leaves the room, I always throw it out. I don’t think I’ll ask him.

3:09 AM 4/4/04
I have three problems with “Purple Rain” (the movie and the music). First, no one ever makes ANY comments whatsoever on how he is dressed and secondly, people are always saying that he’s a terrible musician because his songs make no sense to anyone but him. That’s just not true. They are all very straightforward songs. Then the song “Darling Nikki”: it ends on a such a sad note like he’ll never see her again, but he clearly says, “I woke up the next morning, Nikki wasn’t there, I looked all over and all I found was a phone number on the stairs, it said ‘thank you for a funky time, call me up whenever you want to grind’. He can call her anytime, so why is he so bereft? I guess he’s just a sensitive, sexy, easily upset man. Hm.
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And! I got my snazzy new t-shirt yesterday. You should have SEEN the jealousy I was getting from all the playa haters. But, I told them what I always do, "don't hate the playa...stop acting like goddamn cavemen...EVOLVE, FOR THE EMPEROR NEO CALIGULA COMMANDS IT!" Caligula don't take no shit...from no one, except my advisor, Barrington also known as the Vice Emperor Bersy Boo.