There is nothing to do in the Poconos, especially once you've been here for over a week.

It's gotten to that time of the summer, ladies and gents, where everyone is sort of checking their watches and wondering when the bus out-o'-here comes.

Because there's nothing to do in the Poconos. The symptoms of overboredom are seen and felt by all of us. Don't get me wrong, it's really gorgeous up here, but the charm of that has worn a bit thin. It's like staying too long on vacation. We do, of course, have work to do, but other than that we can either eat, go to the Wal-Mart 20 miles or so away, or make another campfire.

The campfires and breakfast at The Bloomin' Onion (best breakfast EVER) at least make for pleasant repetition.

Went to Boston as a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing Sunday night after the matinee, accompanying a castmate on an audition he had set up there and to visit MattJones, whose name is now one word. I saw Boston for a couple of hours, and then came back yesterday... to the Poconos. Send help.