LOG - Day 6: This's got to be the worst trip I've--what?--we've ever been on. We eat the same red shit every day. "Crimson Cake". "Maroon Milk". "Red Ruffles". "Ruby Wraps". A few more days of this and my skin'll be turnin' red from all this fuckin' food coloring! Hey, you jackasses who're reading this: where the hell are the Oreos?

LOG - Day 7: Thanks to Taylor I went out an' made nice with a neighbor a' ours. Chuck. Chuck somethin'-er-other. He's a Raiders fan, too--thank GOD. Someone else here is NOT CRAZY.

LOG - Day 8: Yeah--YEAH--I AM GETTING TO IT TAYLOR. Yeah hey. We got a, uh, earthquake. I don't know how to measure those things--YEAH I KNOW TAYLOR, IT WAS BAD--but, uh, yeah. It was bad. Somebody's house collapsed down the street. That's all I got.

LOG - Day 10: OH HEY. DID YOU WANT ME TO DO THIS THING DAILY? I COULD'VE, BUT TAYLOR WAS TOO BUSY VOLUNTEERING ME FOR THE CLEAN-UP-FUCKING-CREW TO PICK UP THE SHIT FROM THAT HOUSE.

LOG - Day 11: Jesus Christ. Guess who brought a gun with him from Earth? FUCKING CHUCK DID. Holy shit, I wish there were dogs to shoot or somethin'. Maybe me an' him will just go out back and pop a few rounds into a box of "Crimson Crisps"....