11.12.01 :: 10:44 am

Manny, the second chef, smoked us out last night after our shifts. I mopped floors in a state of otherworldly bliss and happiness.

This morning's two hour commute is brought to you by another plane crash and will the powers that be please come back from vacation and straighten this out? Because it may or may not be "terrorists" this time, but it's still unsettling and wrong.

And sitting in a tunnel, underground, on the subway is the worst fucking feeling of helpnessness ever. Ever.

We'll probably be unable to get out of the city tonight. I hear trains and bridges are closed.

Enough already.

The one good thing that happened this morning was that Girls Scouts were selling cookies in the lobby of my building. Samoans and Thin Mints. Yum and yum. I love you, Girl Scouts.

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