today i got locked in a theater in san francisco (after seeing a one man play about a german, possibly autistic, patholigically lying transvestite) and i had to escape through a fire exit. (actually, i'm not sure if it was a fire exit but that sounds more dramatic. it was some sort of emergency, side of the building exit. i'm glad i was cunning enough to find it.). it was quite traumatizing. when i was little, the teachers used to take a head count before they locked someone away in a creepy old building. but now they over estimate the responsibility of high school students.
p.s. I am alone in my house with Howard (well, also Bosco, but he doesn't really count. I mean, he's not even a real dalmation. His spots are brown, so he is a fraud). It's awkward. He tries to make conversation as if he knows me so well (and, I guess he does because my mom tells him everything, which bothers me because I don't know the guy) and I don't want to be rude, but I don't really want to talk to him either. I think the best part of this situation is that he came over to see my mom, but she's not here because she's out to dinner with another man. Yeah, it's her chubby, gray-haired, unemployed friend Steve, but I still feel kind of bad that the guy drove all the way over here just to be left waiting. Now he has to force conversation with his girlfriend's daughter, and then when unsucessful with this he plays guitar to his imposter of a dog.