Here I am. Where are you? Oh, my horrible Hugo, my hoboese (hoboian?) Bebo, how I miss thee two.
No snow. None. Unless you count slush in my college's town, and somehow, people never do.
I'm hungry. Very hungry. This can be expected, as I seem to be fighting something that upsets my stomach greatly.
My very excited mother just stood under n... Basically, she ran a marathon a day, three days in a row, over New Year's eve, New Year's day, and January 2nd. Three marathons. Three days. And people think I've lost some marbles...
I should probably finish this thing up. Okay, so Hugo, I will write a short chapter soon. I PROMISE. I could be lying, but you'll never know, not if I never know. Mwaheheh!
So, food... I'm staring at a picture of a muscled woman librarian with books flying about her, watching, literally over her shoulder, at a student. If that's not sinister, then I'm Nevada. Why Nevada, you ask? Because Nevada am I Nevada. See what I did there? No? That's okay. I'm sleep and food deprived and I read a 460-ish paged book over a day. Yesterday, if fact. Basically, we're all mad in the Joetopian Mountains. Hello!
Joe, the Hungry Hobo
