I am German, some more. I was at Lutheran Hospital yesterday, talking to a p.a. about the bad cold I have this week. "Now that I've been up and out for a couple of hours," I said, "I'm actually feeling quite a bit better. I guess it was time to leave the house." "That's because you're German," he said. "I have a friend whose mother is German and she sleeps with the window open when she has a cold." "I sleep with the window open most nights," I said, "my head likes to feel cold." This racial science business reminds me of my motto "if you believe in angels, you see them everywhere".

This cold, while not the worst I've ever had (that would be the Walking Pneumonia of Winter '92) cost me $80 in theater tickets I couldn't use. Tuesday night, I was to see Happy Days at BAM, which just got "Time Out New York's first six out of six stars". Let's leave out the illogic of the six-star system. Wednesday, I knew there was no way I could withstand the three and a half hour, two intermission, incest and violence fest that is August: Osage County. Maybe not even on my best day, but certainly not with the near-continuous cough I had by then. I probably won't have another chance to see Days, but I'll get to lovely-sounding Osage County some time.

A bunch of grade school kids were riding my bus later and had this info to share with each other: "If you like how blood tastes, it's twice as likely you'll be gay."

Finally, I was on the subway one night when a lesbian panhandler started talking to a cute woman near me. "Hey, sis," she started, and she learned that the woman works in an advertising agency, so she asked her for career advice. "I don't have any experience or anything, but if I have the model look and model skill, can I be advertised? I live in a shelter. I got in a fight with my woman last night. What stop is this?" And then she was gone. Farewell, Lesbian Panhandler with the Model Skill!