072100 (5:19 pm) intro

    I forgot the digicam so I simple narrative will do. No? Shut up. I hope I can read my own writing. It's sorta shaky. Isn't that funny? I'm writing so much these days, but my handwriting is in desperate need of a refresher course. I type too much. How about this: The power of the pen may be mightier than the sword, but the keyboard is faster.

          (5:31 pm) two smells

    Two main smells crowd the cabin of the vehicle I am in. Gasoline and stinky feet. Gasoline: because we just stopped for gas. Stinky feet: My brother took off his shoes. Yucky ducky.

          (5:37 pm) satanic phone

    In Illinois (right after you go east over the big bridge connected St Louis.. and whatever is across the Mississippi from St Louis) there's an emergency phone box. Its number is 0666.

072200 (4:57 pm) whole thing

    We spent the night at a lovely hotel with 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a foldaway. Rosco slept with Dad, Mom and Ty together, me alone. I froze my patootie off. I guess I could have got up and turned the fake fireplace thing on, but I never thought to. Breakfast was at Einstein Brothers Bagels. Then we went over to the War Monument, and we met baby Brooke. She's tiny and red and wrinkly and she's got a ton of hair. Black hair. It's gonna be so beautiful, long and silky, when she's older.

    Then we did the paddle-boats. Jordan could not steer. But he had to because he was the lightest and had to sit in the middle, where the steering thing was. Then we had lunch. Matt, our waiter, was cute and charming, and he talked to me a lot. He was surprised (you could tell) at my age, when he asked. Cheesecake.

    And then there were these guys. Ex-frat boys, I guess, who had graduated and came back for a reunion. They wore purple, barked like seals, yelled a lot, and were quiet entertaining.

    Rosco was a popular dog. Everyone petted him and asked his name. There was this guy who told us that he had one named Pudgy. He called Boston Terriers, "the gentleman's bulldog." He was a nice kind of nerd.

    There was a history fair. It was called the Hoosier History Fest. I just laughed and laughed. Hoosier means 'redneck white trash' in the St Louis area I live in. Hoosier or not, there were a lot of hot guys there. Model material. Just wonderful looking. Man. Meowww. After lunch at Hard Rock Cafe, we left. Done. It was 5:00 pm before we finished. Late breakfast, late lunch.

          (8:50 pm) question

    Why don't they make helmets out of bulletproof glass? Like for wars and stuff. They've got that bulletproof glass, why don't they just paint it camouflage green and give one to each soldier during wars?