The last batch.

Um, can we talk about AMOEBA for a moment?

It’s like when you’re four and your parents take you to Disneyworld and as you step foot into the park your excitement gets too much and you run ahead of your parents in your pink Stride-rites and you whip around all wide-eyed as if to say, “Mama, is this real?” and your Mom replies, “Yes, Jenny. It’s real.”

If I had my druthers, I would set up a little camp in the LP aisles and sleep under the sweet, sweet canopy of vinyl.

I took more photos, but they were crap, because I refused to use flash and thus mark myself as an uncool tourist, DESPITE THE FACT THAT I WAS AN UNCOOL TOURIST.

But here. Here I am out of focus. Just so you know I was there and just so I know it wasn’t all a dream.

[Yeesh. My front bangs are very John Lennon circa 1965.]