As for supper, I'm already nauseous and I haven't even gotten my tray. Chicken cutlets (I can't say what they remind me of) or Vienna loaf, or, why moving off-campus might not be such a bad idea after all. Too many green things in the former, and if you've achoired (get it, a + choir) a taste for the latter then you also probably like the beer at Father's Six. And the fricassee sause had bumps.

Friday, January 14--The pancakes were great--for playing frisbee, that is--and the fried eggs were a bit on the squirmish side.

The knockwursts let off steam whenever a fork and knife approached and the fried clams made like a lot of undergraduates--after being caught, they apparently took a year off. Let's say they tasted like 75-'3.

At supper, though, now I'm partial to the baked stuffed flounder with newburg sauce, but when you finally get a meal you can stomach, the tendency is to overeat and...plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it was.

Saturday, January 15--The cycle started again, which meant scrambled eggs for breakfast, but this time they were more than welcome because my car was low on water.

Lunch brought that favorite of professional wrestling fans, puree mongol soup, the only soup around that will burn a hole in your pants should you mistake the latter for your mouth.

Finally, to bring matters to a head and your appetite to a loss, Saturday's dinner was that old standby of roast beef au jus, which is served by the kitchens for the same reason that newspapers print big pictures and run columns like this--to take up space. Only kidding now. Please pass the mulligatawny crackers.