09.21.04 | 1:16 p.m.

Sitting here, eating my Chunky soup, and staring out the window� this is pretty much what I do every day at this time. I'm not so secretly in training for the old folk's home. Even I am surprised I don't have a lime Jell-O mold jiggling it up in the fridge for when I get home. (I may very well have lime colored mold, though.)

Well, at least I am in possession of two tickets to Stella, made up of equal parts Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, and David Wain.

I now have until November 10 to devise a brilliant plan to lure Michael Ian Black back to my apartment, convince him to leave his wife, and reign as a one-man comedy act in my living room for all of eternity.