mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How to have a spring break when you are broke Well, I'm enjoying my spring break (should that be capitalized?) as well as I can. I'm trying to do as much out of the ordinary things as I can. Brush my teeth as an example! (Wooo! Ain't I the funny one...) Yesterday, I drove to exotic Kirksville, Missouri. No reason, really. Actually, I was out buying a bottle of Mountain Dew and -- like Forrest Gump -- I just decided to keep going. I improvised a goal when I got about an hour away from home, and that was to make it to the Iowa border. When I started my little journey, I had a touch of a headache, hence the Mountain Dew. The closer I got to Kirksville, though, the worse my head started hurting. It hurt so bad that it felt like it was burning. So, just north of Kirksville, I gave up and turned around. Iowa slipped my grasp yet again. Damned Iowa. Sneaky little bastard. By the way... if you are ever in search of a good road-side diner on Hwy. 63 north of Columbia, you won't find one. There are gazillions of other types of stores -- a menagerie, if you will -- but there are no diners or cafes. I did go fishing today, out at Lick Creek conservation area just north of here. (*side note* Is it me, or does it sound like some backwoods hick wrote this entry?) I was the only person at the lake, so I stripped naked and did the "Bass Fish Come Hither" dance. Which didn't work. I didn't get as much as a single bite in the 4 hours I was there. On a positive note, I did lose two worms. But that was because, after an average of 2 hours in the frigid lake water apiece, they became mushy and just dropped off. So, I have a canister of 23 worms for sale if anybody wants to buy. I wasn't there to really catch any fish; it wasn't my main goal. I didn't even bring a bucket or one of those gill string thingies with me. I just enjoyed being outside for a while. Oh. And naked. I've been giving more thought about this whole Air Force thing. On one hand, I think it sounds absolutely incredible. The benefits. The... Well, that's it. The benefits. That, and I'll be able to actually support a real family if I were to ever get one. Then I see that they have an enlistment bonus. Up to $18,000. But that's probably if you agree to sweep the insides of septic tanks for six years. I become suspicious when people offer you money to join their team. Kind of that whole, "Come here, little boy, and I'll give you some candy" routine I fell for repeatedly as a child. But I almost wouldn't mind joining as an enlisted man, finish my degree (that they pay for), and then go into officer training school. Voila. More money, free degree, the chance to be saluted. I dunno. What do you think? Email me or post in the message board. Are you in the Air Force? Know anyone who is? Tell me your opinion. Yes, I am basing life-changing decisions on advice taken from a diary. How's that for random living? The other night, I went to the store and they were having a huge sale on meat. Never feeling any kind of squirminess when it comes to cheap meat, I bought these two humongous thighs that came from turkeys. Turkeys, man... they got them some big ol' thighs. Next time you want to insult your teacher, call her "Turkey Thighs." You'll get a laugh, you'll be popular, the cheerleader will give you her panties. It'll be a good day of paradise for you. I thought I would make my last Gumbo of the season. Gumbo is more of a winter thing, though I sometimes get a craving for it in the summer so I make me some. If you want my recipe, follow those links. I gave you two links for the price of one. Anyway, so I was making the roux and was talking about my day. If you didn't read the recipe, you have to stir the roux pretty constantly. And you are supposed to use a big-ass spoon to do so. They call roux "Cajun Napalm," and I got a feel for why it got this nickname. I splashed a bit on my left thumb, and after a brief second of looking at it and thinking, "Ow, that burns!" the skin instantly melted off and these huge blisters formed. So, if you see any major type-o's in this entry, it is because my thumb has a big Neosporin and Band-Aid collage on it. And speaking of Neosporin. I thought I would get the "Neosporin PLUS Pain killer" mix because this burns like an infected hemorrhoid. I should sue for false advertising because every time I add more Neosporin, it burns even worse. Damned marketing imbeciles. George Carlin is on HBO as I write this. I'm listening, thinking "He sure sounds familiar." Then I remember my Shakespeare teacher. They could substitue one another and no one would even notice. My first night of class, my teacher said something along the lines of, "And I hate people with two fucking first names. And if my damned language offends you, it is all in this book (shakes Shakespeare book) and I am just quotin'." God... I love my Shakespeare teacher. Well, I am off. I have a friend from out of town coming in tomorrow and I need to get some sleep so I can be a proper friend. Yeah, I'm sappy. 12:46 a.m. - Fri., Mar. 29, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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