I’m stranded in Madison until my car is fixed. Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about the huge favor Whitney did me when he left my headlights on.
I don’t think my battery would have survived the trip under any circumstances. My alternator is “toast.” So I got an extra night in Madison instead of in a corn field. Also, according to a barrage of Hawk Alerts and phone calls from my parents, there’s a gunman running around Iowa City today. His license plate is 501 BLO which the text-reader in the early morning phone call pronounced as 501 “blow.” Is it okay if I think that part is funny?
[ETA: Turns out it was a sad sad thing. How can money/shame matter that much? Go ahead and kill yourself if you have to, but let your family fend for themselves. I’m sure they could have managed without you.]
Instead of stalling in a corn field or hiding from a killer:
I went for a run with Whitney and we worked on our heel clicks. Well on our way to America’s Best Dance Crew. [Next step: Master lady flips.]
We hit the Easter candy. I taught him to apply Robin’s Eggs like lip gloss.
Then we finished the NY Times crossword puzzle. Sunday edition! Damn!
jobonga 
Even with camera tricks, the mustache is still unacceptable,