mychai's Diaryland Diary


JP needs change in his life!

Well, I'm in this major mood for change lately. Everything I own has seemed so drab and "same-ole" lately that I want to just make everything look different.

I need to redecorate (really... I'm not gay.).

I have already started with the apartment. Like I said, I have enlisted the help of my friend, Hot Latino Chick to help take care of the house. I want to put up some nice artwork on the walls. So, if you are even semi-decent at artwork and you have something you would like to sell, please send me an email. Your artwork could very easily end up on the Great Walls of JP.

My "new" room is just screaming for decoration. I want to make it look real bedroomy: tall chest-of-drawers, comfy sheets and a comfortor for my bed, a nice wooden bedframe, a full-sized mirror, and things for the walls.

For my "office," I want to remove a lot of the clutter. Keep the bookshelf, but remove a lot of the tins on it and stuff.

And all of the redecorating doesn't stop with the real world. Nosirree. You are looking at one of my redecorating priorities. This whole piece of blandness needs a whole new layout.

I'm even thinking about going as far as changing the title. But I have nooo idea what to change it to.

So, here's my idea. I want YOU, the reader of this-here diary to give me tons of suggestions. The message board is over <----- there. Leave me all kinds of ideas about a new title, layout ideas, etc. And if you are good at design, by all means, offer me something and offer me a price.

In fact, I may even send you a naked pic of me someone real hottt.

So, that's what has been on my mind lately. So have some of you... Talked to Mandy -- the normal one. Started working out with Hot Latino Chick. She's gonna help me get hottt. No, nothing romantic there. She has a man, and I have my sights set on someone else.

How's this for the huge freakin' wimp I am:

I am sooooo not a person who does well in confrontational circumstances. I got some new upstairs neighbors. The Wild, Screaming Sex Couple moved out in August, and a black couple moved in.

As you know, I have nothing against black folks. But I do have one major problem with a supposed genetic flaw among 99% of the black population.

Of course, I am talking about their inability to hear the base in any music. To combat this disability, they distort the music so the base line is pretty much the only thing that plays, and then they turn that base up REAL FUCKING LOUD.

Unfortunately, the 1% who can hear base sounds don't live above me. So, on Tuesday, September 11, I came home from a loooong-assed day at work and school. If you don't remember -- or perhaps you haven't heard yet -- America got the shit knocked out of us on that day. It wasn't a good day for anyone. I, personally, came home and put some soft Alison Krauss in the CD player and cried softly to myself. I was feeling a little better when I started to hear

Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm, Bah-rooooom baaaa bmmmmmmm... (ad nauseum)

Another problem with this genetic misfortune is that they repeat the same tones OVER And Over and over until they are sure they heard it correctly. It usually lasts hours.

So, being the kind, sensitive person I am to their disability, I didn't go up to their apartment, bang on their door, and tell them everything I had thought about them and their base music for the last hour.

Nope. I did what every red-blooded, Yeller American does when his upstairs neighbors play music too loudly.

I got a broom.

I went under their living room.

And I proceeded to bang as loudly as I could. And I banged constantly until the music got turned down enough to where I couldn't hear it.

They musta said to themselves, "Oh, crap. We just pissed off JP. We best not do *THAT* again!"

Because I haven't heard their base music since.

I'm expecting a reply of a huge cap being popped in my ass as I walk to get the mail.

10:59 p.m. - Thursday, Sept. 20, 2001


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