Nate I don't know much about libraries, but today is day eight of the sore neck.

Shari you should come to the zoo.

Caroline thanks for posting.

Annie whassup.

Kat wtf?

I was in Hamburg once with a friend who had insulin dependant diabetes. She and I flew together on this particular trip, and as I was going to be with her just about the entire time, I learned how to give her shots in case of an emergency. I ended up finding it sort of fun, so I'd practice on her any chance I could. One day several of us were downtown, and it was time to give her a shot. We thought we'd make things interesting, so we decided we'd have me administer the shot in the most suspicious of places. We saw two telephone booths, one of which was occupied. Perfect. So she and I squeezed into the booth, took out the little kit, rolled up her sleeve, and started in on the procedure. At some point during this, our friends got pretty nervous and took off. It didn't take the Turkish man in the booth next to us long to see what we were doing, and when he did, he hung up the phone and set out running. No joke. The dude ran. So we got a little nervous and made way towards the opposite direction too. Now it may have been coincidental, but a short time later, we saw a couple of police officers come around the corner, looking around. Now I don't want to sound racist or anything, because I never understood -- but there was always the strangest relationship between the German Hamburgers I knew and the Turkish. It was like fear or something. Hamburg has an enormous Turkish population. In fact, I learned that more Turkish people lived in Hamburg than in the capitol of Turkey. I can't guarantee that's true, but it might be. Anyway, yeah it was like fear. Another time we were walking in a shady part of town, and we passed a group of Turkish dudes who were trying to sell us weed or something. My friends told me not to look at them and to just keep walking. So I did, but another friend of mine, an American, didn't. They were making some sort of grossish gesture so she yelled something along the lines of, "Fuck you, asshole," and at this point, my German friends took off running like crazy -- so I had to too. I learned later that one of the kids I was with had actually been beaten up by some lot of Turkish guys not too long before. Total classic Johnny and Ponyboy action. After I left the country, some other friends were jumped too. Since you have so much time, let me tell you another story about the Turkish. I lived near the train stop called Wellingsbüttel. At this stop there was a kiosk, which I often patronized, and which was always attended by a Turkish dude. He became quite friendly with me and it seemed completely harmless. He'd always call me "Auslander" which meant foreigner, and he bonded with me because neither of us were German. He made me count my money out loud when I made a purchase and so on, just to help me practice my German. Anyway one day I went to the kiosk, and the dude seemed really excited to see me. He told me that he had drawn a picture of us, and that he wanted me to see it. So he showed it to me and there were two stick characters. One was standing up, looking very happy, and one was dead. He pointed at the dead one and explained that that was me. So I got pretty nervous and just acted like nothing strange had just happened. The next time I went to the station, he wasn't working -- nor was he the time after that, or the time after that, and so on. In fact, no one ever saw him again. There's another story, but I think it'd better wait until tomorrow. Let me know if you want to hear it.