MARICEL!!!!!

I was dragging my sorry behind through the airport, just hoping I could get some of the airplane funk off before meeting Maricel and somebody called out "Simon!" Since there's a freaking geek convention, there could be any number of people who might recognize me here, but when I turned around there she was. She was wearing the same stupid Superman fanboy T-Shirt as I was , only she was wearing it a whole lot better. She looked just like her picture, only she smelled good, too. She was a whole day late getting in, but she'd gotten stuck in Seattle overnight and gotten in a shower. I apologized for smelling like the floor of a bathroom in a bar.

She pulled on the tail of my T-shirt and said "We're the same." Yeah, I wear the tail out. I'm a tub. Oddly enough, her voice sounded exactly the same as it did on the phone. She's got this slight trace of an accent that you really can't peg. Her English is perfect, but since it's her first language and she teaches it as well, I guess it ought to be. Maybe she can help me with mine. From your many kind e-mails I know that my grammar leaves much to be desired.

Yeah, the Strip is something else and the hotel is wicked...
I'll get around to that.
Weezer left a a voice mail. He says he thinks he took a counterfeit hundred doll bill. But more importantly: One room, two beds and a hot girl taking a shower in the bathroom. I already took one. She brought me some sweet Manga in her suitcase. Yeah, I'm a dork. But the hot chick in my shower is okay with that.

I called Weezer and reminded him not to take hundred dollar bills and that we have a freaking pen that checks for fake bills. He said he started a small fire in the microwave. Jesus Christ.