UPDATE: I am officially halfway across the sea.

I do not take responsibility for this post and Yan ki hropku is not Romanian:

Faithful readers,

I have now blogged for a week. Or two, perhaps. Also, I am currently reading B. Obama's gripping thriller: Dreams from My Father. It is almost as good as Living Poor, by M. Thomsen. I am quite poor. This book provides many helpful tips on living poor, such as ways to save money. The best way to save money, I have found, is to steal movies and music online. I do this often. I also steal mints, and force them upon my unwitting friends. They pretend to like the mints while I am around, but after I leave the room they spit them out and say mean things about me.

Also: I have met the man of my dreamz (note the "z"). Stephen is his name. I am going to marry him someday soon. Perhaps a day when I do not have to work. Tomorrow, for instance. Or any day next week. Or next month.

Belovedess, I have run out of things to say. Ah! Lo! I forgot about my encounter with an Italian restaurant this evening. I was with my good friend J. E. and the man of my dreamz. I ate several small noodles in a spicy tomato sauce. It was very hard trying to concentrate on the food and sit by the man of my dreamz at the same time. His blazing blue eyes penetrated my salty soul.

That is all. As they say in Romania: "Yan ki hropku!". This means either "Goodbye, dear one" or "I buried it in the vestibule". I am still working on my Romanian.

-R. Johnson (as typed by B. Webster)