mychai's Diaryland Diary

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The Morality Entry

I started a wonderful little diary entry about the trials and tribulations of writer's block. But WinMX and Opera decided to get into a bit of a fist fight, and my whole Windows environment decided to turn into a simulation of those falling characters and numbers from the Matrix.

Basically, I have had a massive blockage in the nerve that links my brain to my fingers. I have plenty to write about. I want to write about it. But something is there to keep it from happening.

Dunno. Can't explain it. Any ideas? Any sympathies?

Any sweet lovin' for yer ol' bud JP?

Last Wednesday, says the Air Force recruiter: "Ok, JP. You need to lose 3-5 more pounds, and then we'll ship your fat ass off to boot camp."

Ok. He didn't say "fat ass," and he didn't say "boot camp." I need to lose 3-5 pounds before they take me to MEPS. Which, contrary to popular belief, does not mean

My, what an
Enormous
Penis,
Sir!

These are things I'm not especially looking forward to enjoying, but MEPS is also the place where I will test for the intelligence job I want.

You know... the linguistic job that offers a sweeeeeet enlistment bonus of...

(sit down and brace yourself so the massive dollar amounts won't cause you to rush towards me in hopes of getting a bit of 'dis action...)

A Sa-Weet enlistment bonus of NINE THOUSAND DOLLARS!

This means that, if/when I get this particular job and head off to sunny Monterey, California, for a long-ass time of training, I'll be able to lay down some cold, hard cash on a motorbike.

So, Ladies... Here is what I will be offering: I am a guy in my mid-20s with Nice glasses, I will wear a uniform, many of my bills will be taken care of by the US Government, I am a chef, and I will soon be driving a sweet road cruiser with plenty of leather and camping gear.

Any takers?

But I am worried about tomorrow. I sooo want to be under my target weight, but something tells me I will not. I've been repititively disappointed every time I go in to weigh.

So, be thinking about me, will ya? Thanks.

It's official: I will be going to Chicago for a total of 36 hours between the dates of May 29-31. Round trip out of St. Louis was only $11.80. Too nice to give up.

I'll be staying in Chicago'sHostelling International. I stayed there the week of the Fourth of July last year.

I have the travelogue right here. I don't have it organized in any way, so if you want to read it, you will just have to remember your spot if you get up and leave. I plan on making it a fully-fuctioning website soon, easy to navigate and everything.

But for now, there it is. Email me and tell me what you think if you read it through.

If there is anybody reading this that will also be in Chicago at the time, I would thoroughly enjoying meeting yas for lunch and a possible stroll down by the lake.

Oh. And the hostel has internet access, so I will be able to update from there.

Oh. I remember why I brought up the whole MEPS thing and losing weight attempts.

There is a guy I work with on Mondays. He is an older guy, getting ready for retirement. He's usually quite grumpy and grisley if you are an outsider looking in. But he is really a nice guy at heart.

Just don't be adamant about being a Democrat, a Muslim, or a supporter of the IRS. Because he will go ape-shit on you.

I've never seen as pure a hate for these three things as I've seen in this man. Deep down, it is pretty sad. But he is entitled to his ideas, yada yada yada.

But he has taken an interest in my Air Force bid. Today, he brought to work a big-ass bag of prunes. "Eat these," he said, "and you can forego the enema."

So, I ate about half the bag with memories of an "inner belly" check I had a few years ago. The preparation things I had to do was less than, oh... fun.

In case you missed the first part of that paragraph: I ate half the bag. Half a bag OF PRUNES.

When I would get the munchies, I would lean over and grab a few prunes instead of going to get a bag of chips or a Little Debbie something-or-other.

Here's the moral of the story without even telling the story:

Don't eat half a bag of prunes. You'll be miserable.

Well, how many times have I ended a diary entry on that subject? Probably too many times to count.

I do need to get to bed. I have to be at work in 5 hours, and I plan on waking up early and going for a run.

I'll update tomorrow and tell you how it went.

So... peace out, yo. Or whatever cool people say.

10:56 p.m. - Mon., May 20, 2002

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