mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Emma, writing, and picking up chicks Emma wrote me again, and I am just a big blob of nothing-goodness because, like I said in my last entry, I am much more like a 13 year-old girl. Do any other guys get soooo supper giddy when a girl writes you? She's not just any girl. She is absolutely, without a doubt, the most wonderful girl I have ever met in my entire life. Oh, God, take me to England. Met my favorite author and got another letter from Emma. This is turning out to be the weekend of dreams for me. I am going through underwear like *THAT*. I am helping another pal move today, in a mild attempt to improve my aura, dogma, or whatever the good deeds improve. I may be moving sometime within the next year, and hopefully some of these favors will be repaid -- if not by the people I am helping now, by someone else who the Fates will send my way. Because, really, moving's a major bitch. There is no other word to even come close to describing it. It doesn't just suck. If it just sucked, you would get over it as soon as the move was over. Go get a beer and be done. But you feel the move days after because of sore muscles, sunburn, and a stiff back. That, my friends, is a certifiable bitch. Any of you live in Des Moines, Iowa? If so, you could do me a favor. Email me. I am writing my travelogue from my trip to Chicago. I am on my first day of the trip, and already I have typed 12 full pages. This is turning out to be a major project, and I am going to have to haul ass to get it done in time for the family to read it when I come home. I will post it up -- including pictures of me and Emma -- as soon as I get done. It should be a fun read, if I am allowed to toot my own horn. Here's a quick way to pick of chicks, for all of you teen guys who have no clue how to do it. As I am a 23 y/o guy who knows how to do it, this came completely out of an accident at comedy night at a local bar. Find a girl you think is hot. Go sit, stand, whatever behind her. Talk for a bit, then fake a sneeze that happens to be real loud. She will look at you. Laugh under your breath, act all embarrassed, and say, as if you thought of this yourself (just think your old buddy JP for this line), "Umm... That was my pick-up line." She will laugh. You will realize she is a complete moron, and you will spend the evening with her not as cute but less moronic friend. I swear. It works. Gotta get back to typing the travelogue. 11:04 a.m. - 2001-07-22 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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