I've come to the conclusion that it's all Mr. Letsch's fault.

Somehow -- I don't know how -- but somehow all the problems in the world are caused by him. He and his homestyle grandma turtleneck sweaters and super-pouchy, rendered-immobile-by-a-girdle stomach. I'm shuddering in disgust.

He was ok in the beginning. His goofy, rambling style -- the "crazy quotes." The Esquivel backround music. But there's only so much of that you can take.

Goddamn you, Mr. Letsch. If there could be any more consonants in that name, it wouldn't be in English.

Why am I still awake? What am I thinking???

I have to be awake again in another 4 and a half hours. Goodnight.

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