wow...where to start? I moved down to L.A. a few days ago. Into my ridiculously nice apartment. I have all the bare essentials all set up: intenet, cable tv, spice rack. (Yeah, that thing was *real* hard to take out of that box...) So far it's okay I guess...but my roomate won't be here for another few days, and it really isn't as much like moving into the dorms as I expected. There's not a lot of people around, but the few that there are seem pretty friendly. We'll give that one some time.

OH! My gosh...AND, I went to the gym here! Holy crap, UCLA takes this whole "woking out" thing seriously. There are SO many machines. There's a whole row of bikes WITH THEIR OWN TV'S. Yah. And then...and then...(this is my favorite part...) the treadmills! (Holy Crap!) Although I hate to talk down the treadmills at the RSF, as I owe #5 my sanity, at least, the treadmills here are like...the effing pinacle of modern fitness innovation! (!!!) I'm serious. You can watch TV on them, too (although you're subjected to whatever's on the communal tv, which this morning was some reality-esque TV show called "I'm on a Diet" that featured various people crash dieting for beuty pageants and wrestling matches and doing all manner of badness to themselves...) But, oh man...there's even downhill settings. (Yah. DOWNhill.) And they have a bunch of little moniters that you can plug youself into and...damn, they probably have hubbercraft capabilities. Who knows?

oooh...also another perk to the gym here. You know all of those people we all used to see walking around in all of their old Havard t-shirts and other such paraphenalia from their undergraduate institutions? Now I'M one of those. But it's pretty cool, to feel special in an old Cal football shirt.