mychai's Diaryland Diary

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"Goodnight, Irene. I'll see you in my dreams." --gordon jenkins

I'm wracking my brain.

When I got home from work today, I decided that I really, really needed a long nap. The decision was an easy one considering I nodded off at a stoplight on my way home. A honk and a middle finger later, and the decision was made.

So, I put Nigella on my TiVo, removed my glasses, and dozed off. Am I the only person you know that listens to cooking shows as a form of lullabye? That Nigella, man... She's comforting.

Anyway, so there I am, snoozing away, when all of a sudden I hear, "JP!!!!" Really loudly!

I get up, open my bedroom door, and squint really hard. My eyes are terrible, mind you, and the only way I know who it was came from the fact that she was talking ninety-to-nothin'. It was my 12 year-old.

Well... not literally my 12 year-old, but Spanish-Speaking Neighbor's 12 year-old. I just call her "my 12 year-old" because it is easier than constantly saying, "the 12 year-old daughter of my neighbor who I constantly help keep track of and cook for."

Anyway. She was standing there, gabbing away. I remember she wanted something. Possibly from my kitchen. I have no clue.

So, I am sitting here, wracking my brain, wondering what it is she took. I'll probably find out at 4:30 tomorrow morning when I desperately need it and it isn't here.

By the way, she has entered into the, "JP is kewl, so I can and will cuss in front of him" stage. She's so adorable. I like it when she says the F word. I usually smack her on the back of the head and scold her loudly. But that has no effect. She just laughs and says, "Shit! That hurt!"

Kids are cute when they are that age.

So, this whole Internet thing is kind of neat. With all of the mass amounts of information and useful tools at my fingertips, I would be a fool not to take advantage of them.

Which is why I've put together all of the powers of the Internet to create a Southpark version of me and a Superhero version of me.

This is my Southpark equal. Notice the polo shirt and jeans, the usual fare you will see me wear on an average day.

And my superhero double:

Notice the Star of David on his chest and the yin-yang on his belt. These are the elements of the tattoo I got last October when Best Friend Lisa was here. (Note: That pic is from the night I got it. My tat looks much better now.)

You should all go make your very own superhero and be as kewl as me.

On Sunday at work, we had nothing at all going on, except various news programs and infomercials. So, I moved our big, mult-million satellite receiver to the left and right, tweaked a few things, undoubtely caused feedback for NASA, until MTV came online.

Ahhh. "Real World: Seattle" marathon. Probably my favorite season because of the vast amounts of extreme eye candy. And I must admit, Irene is my dream girl. Well, pre-psycho Irene, that is. She exemplifies everything, at least physically, I hope for in a girl.

Her personality rawks my socks, too. She is someone I would love to love.

Janet is another ideal. If you could somehow combine Irene and Janet, and make her somehow feel drawn to guys with two first names, I would be in heaven.

The freaky thing was, when I worked at for ABC, we had a director who looked a LOT like Irene. When I first started working there, I had this huge crush on her. But she turned out to be one of the meanest, most terrible people I have ever experienced. Strange thing was... I still thought she was hot.

And Janet looks very, very much like Best Friend Lisa. Yes, the same one I've had dreamy eyes for since we met eight friggin' years ago.

What is it with cell phones and wrong numbers? My first "unscheduled" call -- one that didn't spawn from me calling someone and saying, "Call me back!" -- was my Air Force recruiter. He was calling someone else.

And today, at work, I heard Dixie coming from my pants.

It took me a while to realize that this wasn't a dream coming true but was really just my phone. But I answered it, and it was a guy from a construction site asking for a guy adoringly nicknamed Mooseshit.

What was really neat about it, though, was I was talking to a guy who is the head of traffic. I got to say, "Hold on just a sec. Phone call." And I walked around the corner.

I felt all professional and stuff.

Well, that's it for me. I am off to do some power yoga. Lots of girls wearing really comfy looking, loose pants. They all have great figures, and they are pressing their faces to the soles of their feet.

I enjoy watching as much as doing it all. So, excuse me if I choose that over writing for you any longer.

9:17 p.m. - Mon., August 5, 2002

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