I have a lot of things to write about, and so I'll create you a list.
-first of all, I am now in the know about Mr. Michael Jackson... and I laugh at myself, and at you, for really ever believing all the stupid things we heard. (And for those of you who think I am talking about the King of Pop... woe be unto you.)
-I am not so very happy with a certain Monsieur Quincampoix. You, sir, are in big trouble.
-I still want to tell you how I found out Nancy's name.
-I'm too tired, too doped up, and too much in pain to tell you, however.
-Why, you ask?
-Why, endometriosis, I reply, curbed with a little too much Loritab.
-I love Mr. DeBirk and Miss Kanno more than words can really say.
-That is all.