There is a kind of person who likes to go to Africa and get malaria and help people. I'm not exactly that kind of person. In fact, even talking about going to Africa gets my itchy. But I met a woman who went there and spent time with the Peace Corps, and I wound up fixing her ceiling fixture, and in response she took me out to dinner at a Senegalese restaurant. Perfectly nice of her, though the place was so authentic, there was rattan on the ceiling and there was a very loud Senegalese live act playing in the place. Plus the food was a very unusual okra fueled glop that I'm sure if you were in Africa and hungry you would be very happy to get, but for me was a little much. But it was kind of like salty throw up.

Anyway, she told me about how she was sick over there, and went to a clinic and they said they would give her a shot, but it would be the same shot they gave everyone for everything, and she was better off getting out of Africa for healthcare. Which she did but had to ride in an oxcart in the baking sun to get back to civilization. Even though I hear it is nice, I'm in no rush to go to Africa.

I also went to Adam's parents pied a terre, which was an incredibly nice apartment. In fact it was so nice, we had Campari and soda and discussed art movements in the Twentieth Century, just to have a lifestyle to match the surroundings. Also dates and Mancheago cheese. I'm telling you, this place was just that nice. In fact I think they were biodynamic dates, which are picked on the full moon or something.

Speaking of cheese, I also had some Gorgonzola, at a dinner party. It was the kind of dinner party that has place cards and menu cards and beef bourgenion, which of course I don't eat. So I was hungry and ate too much salad, which was made with pears, hazelnuts and Gorgonzola. I don't really like cheese. In general. I mean. I like a little Peccorino Romano as much as the next guy, or some lovely Emmenthaler. But overall, I'm not a big cheese enthusiast.