Alright, so a month in Florida clearly has made an affect on me. Case in point: I'm on the way to the airport after a frantic morning spent packing like a crazed gerbil on speed and it's brought to my attention by my father that I am wearing flip-flops. We are already late to the airport. There's no way we can stop and buy shoes -- because I've managed to lose my only pair of sneakers and I didn't bring any other shoes home with me. My brother proceeds to whip off his sneakers and socks, and we trade shoes.

It's not until I'm inside the terminal and they're driving away that it becomes clear to me what a terrible idea this was: my brother's feet are bloody huge. It was like wearing clown shoes! I swear to God, they were two and a half sizes too big for me.Then becuase my connecting flight was late I had to *run* through Atlanta...in clown shoes. In my head the whole time was the clown theme from the circus. It was interesting.

Anyway, am back in NY. Newsflash: GOOD CHRIST WINTER IS FILLED WITH FROZEN THINGS! Yeah, I know. I am Captain Obvious.

And, for your edification, a story about me grocery shopping:

I'm in the checkout lane. I already have a million impulse buys more than I need littering my cart. I look over, and what do I see? I see a bag filled with pemmican. Now, all my internal Due South censors go of, screaming 'FRASER! FRASER!' at the top of their lungs. And I think to my self, "Self, why not try it out and see what it's like?"

Three dollars and a handful of horrific jerkylike substance later, I know why not. I now appreciate the way Ray mocks Fraser for eating it in a new and more profound way.