Mourice (Korie) Glazer and I met up after class this afternoon. We wondered down narrow side streets negotiating thugs, hoodlums, mark-ass tricks, trick-ass marks, and scallywaggers on our way to La Passatore, my favorite restaurant in Barcelona so far. Over a bottle of red wine and a margarita pizza we argued about which was the best rock band of all time, Creed or Nickleback. After two-plus hours of deliberation, we decided to settle the dispute with an arm wrestling match. I am in a sling now. It was a draw.

In other news, I went to the Pharmacia for the first time with Bash. He was suffering from sinus pressure and sickle cell anemia. He described his symptoms and the friendly pharmacist, Helena, gave him medicine and described to him how to take it, as well as other methods he could use to better himself. Seeing how easy it was, I told her I suffered from severe anxiety, had trouble sleeping, and terrible pain everywhere in my body. She referred me to a private Pharmecia, a peg-legged ex-pirate named Rufus who sells churros on Las Ramblas at night. I made an appointment with him by pager.

DML