mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I know someone who has a bitch! Wow. Only three months until my big 25th birthday. What will you send me? Yes, I am home. Sorry I didn't update nearly as much as I usually do when I go home for vacation. Normally when I go home on vacation, I actually get to do a lot of resting and relaxing. I did as much resting and relaxing as Osama bin Laden gets on this trip home. I haven't had that packed of a schedule in a long, long time. This made me very glad to get home so I could sleep, snooze, and otherwise rest. That is until the cold, cruel world of reality slapped me across the face. More accurately, it hit me in the face, ran down my chest, over my shoulders, through my hair. Yes... My big ol' idiot of a roommate didn't pay her share of the gas bill. This prompted the nice people at Ameren UE -- our gas provider -- to kindly come and shut our gas off while I was away. Their courteousness, in effect, made my bathroom shower very, very cold. The earth could be budged from its course around the sun and drift towards the fiery ball, but the water to my shower would still be 40 degrees. And every second I am in that liquid torture, the evil fantasies I want to do to my roommate mount up on one another as cars do on a foggy interstate. I swear, dude. No more friggin' roommates. Even when I get married. My wife and I will get identical houses beside one another. Sure, she will get to stay the night every now and then. But that's it. I am D-O-N-E done with roommates. Unless you are Laetitia Casta. I'll let you come live with me. Just don't get all old and wrinkly. I watched the Robin Williams special on HBO tonight. It cracked my shit up! He sure can sweat some buckets, though! I am glad I am not even half as hairy as him, and I am glad I don't sweat like that. Because, dang. That's just nasty. Good thing he is Maybe I should get rich, hairy, sweaty, and funny. Perhaps that would help. Because I sure ain't doing something right. On my ride to the airport on Friday, we were driving through the suburbs of New Orleans, my dad cruising at a blinding 60 mph. All sorts of people were speeding by, making all kinds of obscene gestures with their hands and fingers. Some I haven't even seen before. I was riding in the back seat (my step-mom was riding up front with Pop) slumped down, afraid to show too much of my head in fear of getting it blown off. Because New Orleans isn't as safe as it used to be. I finally got up the nerve to see my surroundings pass by one last time before flying away. Even though New Orleans is nasty and terribly trashy, it is still sorta my home. Sometimes, when the light is just right, the garbage and discarded street construction signs aged 10 years look kind of pleasant. Friday wasn't the right day. But as I was looking at all of the junk flying by at 60 mph, this guy drove by. This was the kind of guy that was driving a really nice car, but he looked like he couldn't even get a job at McDonalds. He was a white guy with only part of a beard and mustache. He was wearing a wife beater shirt. And he was driving -- I am not lying -- with his DRIVER'S seat rested all the way back. But that's not the point of the story. He drove by, and we made eye contact. And he drove on, but slammed on his brakes. I knew at this point that I had let my head be in plain sight of other drivers way too long. So, as I started to ease my head down to avoid it from getting blown off, the really tough-looking guy raised a hand... pointed it at me..... And.... He did that two-finger "What's up?" sign you do to people you know. At 60 miles per hour, I had a mini high-school reunion! I knew the tough guy! His name was Jerrod Dickerson. We graduated together several years ago. Heck, we even went to elementary school together. So, what did I do? I waved my full-fingered hand fanatically, looking like a complete bumbling moron. I am driving down the interstate, in the back seat of the car driven by my good ol' dad and step-mom, waving like I was Miss America to a guy who probably owns bitches and glocks. Well. At least I knew him. And I am still alive. That's really the most important detail of my story. Well, I have a full day of work tomorrow. Sundays have become interesting, though, as a younger desk worker in the newsroom seems to enjoy flirting. It's even a girl, which is different from most of the flirts sent my way lately. She's a nice Jewish girl of 19. I didn't know she was Jewish until today, which is a definite plus. She also has long, dark hair. Kinda cute. But 19. As in, almost 6 years younger than me. Oi vey. Such a young age wears me out, so I must leave this diary entry and get some rest. One of my all-time favorite movies came on last night, which I got my TiVo to record. It is Labyrinth, and it is one funny-assed movie. Even though she is, like, 15 in this movie, Jennifer Connelly still looks damn good. She looked even better in Rocketman. Ok. Now that I sound like a pervert, I will sign off. Tchu�! 11:42 p.m. - Sun., July 14, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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