Well, I’m not ready to fall asleep yet and I probably won’t till around 4:00, so why not write?

Before I forget, that guy Bill whom I met with Randy at the grocery store never called last Monday. I last talked to him on November 27th. He gave me the typical, “I lost your number.” He said something about going to L.A. for the weekend but he’d call when he returned on Mon. He also gave me the number of some girl Kathy to call. She also hasn’t returned my call, so forget it. That tells me how serious they really are.

Andy did fall asleep, but I went over there anyway. Velma was watching TV and finally, Andy got up and frosted the cake, put candles on it, and they sang Happy Birthday.

Andy said to make a wish, but my 3 wishes are not grantable. 1. Being a singer. 2. Meeting a feminine gay woman. 3. Being able to quit smoking. All else I’m happy with so I didn’t make a wish.

Then, I thought of two other wishes, but they’re also not grantable. 1. Becoming madly attracted to butches. 2. Being able to do a career I hate.

While I was there I heard glass smashing in the parking lot. I checked Velma’s and Andy’s cars, but they were fine. Then, I realized I didn’t want to be seen in case someone did do something bad and be connected to it. Stacey will try to pin whatever happened on me.

Tomorrow night I’ll probably do some letter writing. Maybe editing, too.

Tammy still never mentioned speaking with Sheila. At this point, however, I don’t really give a shit. I’ve got permission to be here. Period. And I’m not a murderer.

I’d never ever date a cop, even if she were drop-dead gorgeous. Some of them are good like Mark and others I met. Others think they’re God, above the law, and can do anything. Well, not in my book.