It was interesting, hot, and kinda sad, all at the same time. In the picture with my sister you'll notice the grassy knoll and the section of highway where President Kennedy was killed. What you CAN'T see in either picture was the fast-talking street hustler who wanted us to pay him for his unsolicited five minute tour of the area, most of which I didn't understand since my ebonics is sorta rusty. I've decided that downtown Dallas is an area where atrocities must always be committed against the American people--from Lee Harvey Oswald, to street hustlers, to having to pay $10 to park in a crowded lot for one hour.
In other news, I am writing from this fandangled phone that DJ bought for me. I'm typing with my giant hot dog fingers on this tiny little touch screen. (Is this what giants feel like every day?! It's terrible. Let's make our world more giant-friendly.) Cross your fingers, I'm about to hit "publish."
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