ef returned from her travels yesterday -- which means I am once again relegated to the garage, but only for a short while. My city classes begin on Monday. I've been cramming all week in preparation, brushing up on rules of grammar, making note of easily forgotten "advice" I would like to impart, making certain I have thoroughly read all the texts my students will have to read. (In addition, I've been painstakingly preparing lectures for my other job in Wisco and in doing so have learned quite a bit myself.) I'm full of trepidation but know from past experience that once I'm in the classroom, I'll be "back in black."

I picked ef from the airport yesterday (or, rather this morning) at 1:40 a.m.. I had a hell of a time finding the international terminals and as I was circling O'Hare, chain-smoking to keep myself awake, recieved a text message from ef that read "the department of homo security says I can't use my cell phone now." And in my sleepy, semi-lost state irrationally (albeit passively) directed my anger at The Department of Homeland Security -- believing that they were somehow responsible for my not being able to find "Terminal 5." Paranoid bastard jerk-offs, is what I think I called "them" from the confines of my car as I entered the wrong roundabout, once again.

In terms of employment, I had much luck while staying at ef's apartment. Luck that ef attributed to San Simon. She even brought me a little wooden San Simon from Guatemala. He is fully pose-able and came with candles -- each a different color -- each color bears significance and is to be burnt depending on what it is you "want" from Mr. Simon. Fortunately, I want a great many things.

In light of the fact that I'm tired and have nothing terribly exciting to blog about, here is some Text Message Poetry (Part Deux):

WHY

why did I
eat so much chocolate and
where are you?

FUN

it was fun
i barfed
whoa
nelly

ON CHANGE *

change of plans for tonight
we're going to see
Oingo Boingo
with Rodney Dangerfield and
the guy from Christine
instead

* references the film, Back To School in which Sally Kellerman brutally murders every ounce of eroticism in the final passage of Joyce's Ulysses by suggestively reading said passage to Rodney Dangerfield.

In the spirit of retrospectives (of sorts), the Link of the Day was once featured on the late, great "Unbearable Lameness of Being" blog and one of my favorite internet clips (only because I so identify with this man and his sitting-in-the-trailer existential crisis): THIS.