Shaking the hand of a man whose hand was cut off.

So this summer, I'm working at my mom's office, Format llc. They're a company that basically makes text books. Not prints, or writes, but rather lays them out and edits them. All the little buttons and sidebars and images are made or chosen and arranged by companies like format. Only format is just a little tiny business compared to some, we're all in one renovated one story building, less than 30 people include Nacho the Janitor (who comes in once a week).

More about my circumstances next post, now I have random life ramblings!

So I somehow gained the ability to whistle a couple of months ago. Now I do it almost nonstop if nobody else is around. I'm not too good, but being able to make up melodies without letting loose my embarrassing singing voice is great, not to mention addicting. I can even do it while practicing for drumline and make up whole little songs! A guy's whistling and a perc. pad. The minimalist orchestra.

My dreamy dreamy dreamphone (sony k800 limited edition silver) has been ordered and is on its way. But there's a cliffhanger, will it get here by Friday? Otherwise it's delayed until Monday, and then I'll be gone @ camp.

So my friend named Mary wants me to talk about her in my blog. Well I just want her, Mary Elizabeth Woody, who has a cool boyfriend named Lance, and who lives in the middle of nowhere with dial-up internet and is fun to make short jokes at, to know that I will not be mentioning her at all. And I will never include any details about her. GOT IT?