Garlic is exactly the wrong type of smell to smell at 930 in the morning.

I don't know who in my building is cooking with it, but I now dislike them intensely, as the only acceptable morning smells are coffee, toffees, and a slice of chocolate cake warmed in the microwave.

Smelling the garlic is putting me in the mood to eat, and I believe that In N' Out will now be consumed at some point during the day, which should nicely balance out the running I plan on doing.

I'm tired, yet strangely well rested and relaxed. I gave Heather the best possible send off I could muster, stuffing her full of various good things like pizza, malts, and cake, such as she desired.

I don't know if she'll read this, but she should know that I am relieved and far less guilt-wracked upon reading that she's going to be on the lookout for a wealthy Italian man during her trip.

I plan to spend my July doing exactly the same thing.

Not quite sure if I dreamed this or not, but...JonnyBoy, if I barged into your room late last night, startling you and telling you to keep the noise down, I am truly, truly sorry.

I'm fairly certain I also dreamed that Andy Dick and Chris Kattan buried the hatchet. Kattan says in that piece that they already have, but when I saw Dick a few weeks ago at the Improvolympic, that did not seem to be the case.

I just want those boys to be happy.

Short one today, and I end with this: My team performs tonight at the IO, at 11pm, and, as always, for free. If you can make it, do. We're going to need lots of support tonight as we're missing two of our best players this week.

It is bloody hot here today. I'm thinking beach. Who's with me?