mychai's Diaryland Diary

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I'm bloated, I'm tired, I'm frustrated... So I write about a dear friend.

Ugh... That's what this here diary is all about: learning lessons through the mistakes of yer ole buddy JP. And, boy oh boy, did I really screw up yesterday. I'm talking major stuff here. I'm talking about...

Eating gobs of peanut butter sandwiched between 8 toaster waffles, and all of it smothered in butter and honey. It was good at the time -- albeit a bit too sweet. So, I figured I would go out and get me a few tacos from Taco Hell Bell to counteract the sweetness. Today, I am bloated, gassy, and generally nasty. Read: Fat Bastard.

Once again, I say it: Ugh. In other words, don't even try it. Don't think about it. In fact, you shouldn't be reading about it. Now, excuse me while I go to the bathroom with some good, light reading material, like Gone With the Wind.


Yet another strange call for my roommate ad. A woman called last night asking all kinds of questions. She seemed nice. She sounded a little older than who the ad was intended on attracting. But I could overlook her age, I suppose, if she was a decent roommate.

Why was this call strange, you ask? Homechick called at 11:30 last night! Good for her that I was still awake, otherwise she would have been told where she could have stuck her classified ad. Who reads classifieds nowadays? Is it *only* the fucking idiots of the world? I think so.

So, let's go over who all I have had respond to my classified ad so far:

  • Girl who wanted to spend a minimum of $400 a month so she could live close to campus and not five minutes away.
  • Indian-sounding guy who said he would come by and look at the place but didn't.
  • Psycho Idiot Guy who kept calling and leaving me mean messages on my machine (see below for update on him).
  • Older Chick who thought it appropriate to inquire about my ad in the middle of the night.
The ad's running again tomorrow. Yeah, I'm *really* excited about that. More people read the paper on Sunday. More people mean more idiots. So, my phone's gonna be ringing off the hook 24/7 with idiots and morons all on the other end. If someone decent doesn't take the room by next week, that's it. I'll suffer paying a lot of money just for the pleasure of not dealing with the Morons and Jackasses of the world.

And mark my words: Someone will call in the middle of November asking if the room is still open. I am willing to bet good money that it will happen.


So, Psycho Idiot Guy called again on Friday, over and over, beginning at 7:30am. He left me another mean message something to the tune of:

Listen, guy. I've been calling day and night and you are either never home or your phone is busy. This is rediculous! Why do you put an ad in the paper if you aren't going to answer the phone? Take the ad out of the paper or answer your phone!

Once again, I just pressed the delete button. I then changed my answering machine message to:

Hi, you've reached 1-900-JP-IS-HOT (I said my real number, by the way). If you are calling about the room I have for rent, it is still open. Unless you are the person who keeps calling and leaving not so nice messages. In your case, the room is taken. But for everyone else, the room is still open, so please leave a message. G'bye!

Psycho Idiot Guy called once, heard the message, and that was the last I heard from him. Damn... dude's psycho.


I was talking with a REEEEEL GOOOOOD friend last night, and she was insulted that I haven't mentioned her at all in this diary. Not even once. She was genuinely pissed at me. So, I got naked, sent her pictures of my hot bod (I hadn't bloated by then), and thought that would help.

It didn't.

So, I told her that I would spend a long time talking about her. I have always called her Mandy. But, to keep down confusion and general bad thoughts, we will call her Amanda, her real name. I first met Amanda when I was in 8th grade. She was wearing these real dorky -- but cute, mind you -- red rimmed glasses. We instantly became friends. I dug her. She dug me.

Jump to when I went to the Mississippi School for Math and Science. Now, jump to when I came home. Mandy started firing off these super love notes to me. This is the time that I was having my first experiences with depression. So, I did what any 16 y/o guy does when he has strange emotions: he takes advantage of girls who like him.

But the past is behind the both of us. We are now very close. Hick-Chick is getting married sometime soon. Don't remember when. But we are still close. She still kicks my ass when I get out of line. And she still thinks I'm

"Damn Se-cksee!"

So, Mandy... I wrote you a poem. It's completely original. I hope you like it...

Oh, Mandy! Well you came and you gave without takin' But I sent you away, oh Mandy Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shakin' And I need you today, oh Mandy!

7:45 a.m. - Saturday, Sept. 01, 2001

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