5:26 AM:

The camp paper needs to be done by tonight, and I have hardly anything at this point. It's too early in the summer for me to be having this sort of trouble, isn't it?

(Actually, no, just the opposite, now that I think of it. Getting off the ground is sometimes the hardest part, and this is the first real issue.)

Oh, well. This is what I'm getting paid for, I suppose...

My gosh.

Every now and then, a story comes along from the world of competitive sports which awes even those of us who don't follow it in general.

Independence Day 2001 provided such a story. It was at the annual Nathan's hot dog eating contest. The winner consumed 50 hot dogs -- with buns -- in 12 minutes, shattering the old record of 25 and an eighth.

Amazed, I am. Amazed, and, yes, awed.

...it's still a dumb sport, of course, but, nevertheless, the mind boggles.

3:40 AM:

Tonight's shameful confessions:
(The mildly shameful edition. Someday, I may feel able to post the good stuff. Or, rather, the bad stuff.)

• My favorite Powerpuff Girl is Buttercup.
  
• When alone, I swig soda straight from the 2-liter bottle. (But only soda. Milk is poured into a cup first. Ditto fruit juice of any kind.)
  
• I never need to cut my fingernails; they're always bitten down to the quick.
  
• I have perpetual ear infections, which could probably be prevented if only I'd put drops in my ears every night.
  
• The catch is that once the infections get started, the drops in question hurt.
  
• It frightens me that there may be people who see me as some sort of representative of Orthodox Judaism. I'm all too far from the mark.
  
• ...although I suppose somebody closer to the mark wouldn't be keeping this journal in the first place. Hmm.
  
• I plagiarized a limerick for a class newspaper in the sixth grade. I know it'll come back to haunt me someday.
  
• The only films I've seen by Spielberg or Kubrick are: the Indiana Jones trilogy (although I didn't see the entire second film thereof), Dr. Strangelove, most of Eyes Wide Shut (it was on HBO when I was in Michigan), and A.I. Oh, and bits of Hook.
  
• The only ones of the above I particularly liked were the Indy films. Especially the third installment.
  
• I never wear sunblock. (Then again, I never get sunburned.)
  
• This oughta suffice for one night.

2:29 AM:

Oh, and back at the Campers' Paradise, the summer has begun.

(For newer readers, I should perhaps recap. I work at an Orthodox Jewish day camp, for which I write a weekly newsletter. This is my ninth straight summer holding that position. In this journal, the camp is referred to as "the Campers' Paradise," which bears no resemblance to the camp's real name, as the last thing I need is anybody from the camp stumbling across this site. There, you're all caught up.)

One issue down, eight to go.

In other news, I saw A.I. with a friend on Sunday.

I had not originally expected to see this, based on the trailers. But then I read the reviews, all of which agreed on the following two points:

1. A.I. is a fatally flawed movie.
   
2. A.I. is nonetheless a very interesting failure.

(Note that the above link does contain some spoilerish content.)

And, yeah, count me in with everybody else. Interesting setup, very bad final ending. (No, that's not redundant.)

I am now the proud possessor of a Palm Pilot. Or, rather, a Palm IIIx. My father just upgraded to a better model, and passed his old one on to me.

I've been busily getting practice with its handwriting-recognition system by transcribing my address book, not to mention my notes for the camp paper. When I'm not just playing solitaire, anyway.

And I've been messing around with AvantGo. It turns out that this blog looks pretty nice on a Palm. Not much of a surprise, given that it's always been designed to be Lynx friendly, but still nice to know.

11:54 PM:

I spent last night defrosting my freezer for the first time since I moved into my apartment. It was me against the ice, and I'm pleased to report that I won. There is now once again room to put stuff into both shelves of my freezer.

In more exciting news, today marks the fourth anniversary of Elaine's journal, an event worthy of much celebration and hoopla. I'd throw her a party, except that I wouldn't know whom else to invite, and, besides, I'm pretty close to broke myself.