The Mormon Sisters are after me again. Somehow they got my new number, somehow they dialed it, and somehow the higher-ups are now after me, not just the silly missionaries. The Higher-up told me she’s very excited to meet me, etc., and asked when I’m free. Somehow I told her Wednesday, and somehow they are going to appear at the apartment door around seven p.m. Wednesday evening. Alas! I’m not even in the cult and it’s still impossible to escape their clutches. If anyone wants to hangout at my apartment at 7 p.m. on Wednesday evening, that would be great. My roommate and I would appreciate any help we can get. I’m going to convert these wackos yet. Actually, I’m pretty sure that our apartment is going to freak them out. Not that our apartment is scary or anything, but these are creepy and silly Mormon girls, they probably get scared of anything. Perhaps the poster of Nick Cave will send them screaming and running from the premises.
In other dire news: My roommate found out today in a hurried e-mail from her dear mother that her younger brother, Andy, was rather drunk (lastnight?) and fell sixty-five feet out of a tree and broke his neck. He’s currently in the hospital in Milwaukee. That’s all we know. Prayers are much appreciated.