I will never speak again for as long as I live because my father is a yapper and my ear is about to fall off somewhere on the road. I've finally "settled" into the apartment and let me tell you, it's a shoebox, but I couldn't have asked for a better location.

There are so many nice restaurants, low-carb bar shops, and coffee hangouts. People think Parker is cute...I should give him away. The only downside to my apartment right now is the lack of a bathroom door. GHETTO. I will have to do all my #2s at public venues or at the school.

A little snipit from the road trip. If the last time I've been to Las Vegas was when I was 14, how the hell should I know if my father is going in the correct direction? Am I supposed to know where the fucking Luxor hotel is and which highway to take? Okay there's more but I'm hungry and tired and the dog still needs to pee in someone's yard ... IN PALO ALTO, BIOTCHES.

In California. Will write more later. Dad looking over my shoulder. :P