The beach and I should get acquainted more often. I've still never seen any dolphins, though, not larking about in the real live ocean. Those marine park dolphins are more like circus folk, only pretending to be wild dolphins while they stun us all with their constant hoop-jumping. Wild dolphins seldom get hoops to jump through, let alone fish tossed at them from a bucket. I wonder if wild dolphins find that unfair. Do they long for the actor's life, replete with fish? Probably not. They probably like their open spaces and polluted waters.

You know things are bleak when dolphin sarcasm comes into play.

There is something infinitely bizarre about "working out" in a machine-laden room, stuffed to the gills with alternately heaving and ogling people, all representing our society's muchly-twisted concept of being healthy.

The French have it better, what with zipping about the countryside on bicycles and all. Even Frankie has it better. Apparently, he plays basketball and runs around tracks like a very healthy rabbit. I am nobody's rabbit, however, and who the heck am I going to play basketball with? My teeny-tiny galfriends? Testosteronie boys? I don't think so. I draw the line at playing basketball with people who can be beaten by simply holding the ball out of their reach, or with those whose ego-inflated elbows can be used in a check.

So much for "new age" fitness. I say, give us a friendly basketball-playing robot already -- if for no other reason than to stop resenting those Jetsons.

Of all the cities I've ever visited, London has long been my favorite. The sweet everyday people. The old-new-amazing architecture. The life, period.

Good wishes, mates. Good wishes.

"So," said the tall, elegant older lady to me, smiling in sisterly conspiracy, "do you find that short men are very attracted to you?"

"Not really," I laughed, startled and already anticipating my lametastic answer. "I think I scare them. I'm too shy for men in general."

"Oh," she grinned as she shook her head dismissively, "I'm sure you don't have any trouble at all."

"Ha," I said. And being shy, I left it at that.

When my parents were dating, they went to an ABBA concert. They also saw The Way We Were at a drive-in movie theater.

Are we all ultimately doomed to similar decades-later chuckles? Scenes of Tiffany tapes and birthday parties at the roller skating rink dance in my head. And you know, I probably should have gone to a grunge concert or two. Insofar, these '00 years are highly suspect for chuckles of any sort.

I am Jack's lackluster Graduate summer existence.