marshmellow bags should never go empty

Nothing to update with, but since when does that stop me?

I had a dream last night that I was in Japan again, and I fell in love with a girl. I think I wasn't entirely grasping the ideal of gender. Those're waters I'm hoping never again to tread. But I got to go to an amusement park, and apparently I had fun. And the object of my affection, her grandfather died, and I remember stepping up into his room and thinking that it smelled of old man.

My mom's reading this book in a recliner on the other side of the room, and she's been laughing to the point of crying and triggering her gag reflex repeatedly. She keeps busting up laughing at random intervals.

Speaking of my mother sweet, she has decreed that the computer be flipped shut.

This entry is as worthless as an empty bag of marshmellows atop the President's head.

Goodnight.