Muppets and handcuffs

Susan gave me her rash. She broke out in Ireland and I think it was because of faulty Irish laundry detergent. I was horrified every time I looked at her and thanked my lucky stars that my arms weren’t covered in hideous red bumps like hers. But then we got back to London and I started noticing those same red bumps on my hand, my arm, and, bizarrely, on the bottom of my foot. I hope you’re all still friends with me after reading this confession.

I bought a new camera. A fancy pants camera that I will keep under my pillow at night and whisper sweet-nothings to each morning when I wake up. It’s not here yet (my parents are bringing it next week), but I am already planning our lives together. There will be much canoodling and tears of joy. I can’t wait!

Blurb in today’s LondonPaper:
“Amy Winehouse isn’t going to be around long unless she sorts herself out quick.”
SAYS KEITH RICHARDS – AND, AMY, HE SHOULD KNOW

I watched the movie ‘Bobby’ tonight. What an eye-opener that was… I can’t even imagine how helpless people must have felt in those few years in the mid-60’s. Out of a country filled with hatred, oppression, and war, we were lucky to have such strong, true, and great leaders emerge. With each speech these amazing orators gave, people let themselves hope just a little bit more, and there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. But one by one, those leaders were killed. I know that if I had been alive when Kennedy was shot, I would have thought it couldn’t get any worse. I would have already felt helpless and hopeless. But then Martin Luther King would be shot and I would once again feel like I was at the lowest point possible. And then Robert Kennedy. What were my parents feeling each time they heard about these assassinations? Were they afraid this country would never stand on two feet again? Was there a general fear that the country couldn’t move forward without sacrificing great men in the process? Did they stop letting themselves hope for the best? There were so many incredible things that happened in that decade of American history. But I can’t help but think that they will forever be overshadowed by the horror created by Oswald, Ray, and Sirhan, and all I can do is cry to think about it.