mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm jonesing over all of my new readers Don't you hate it when you get paid at midnight, and then by noon your paycheck is already gone? Damn bills. Damn new car. Damn internet porn. Oh, well. After being all stressed and worried from paying all of my bills, I came home this evening to a ton of wonderful, great emails from all of yas. There is nothing I like better than emails from all of my new readers. I say "new" readers because I had a whole bunch of hits today. A lot more than I was getting, oh, three weeks ago. And all of the new people seem to really enjoy emailing me. Which is faaantastic. I think it has something to do with the promise of undie pics along with the new car. People must have done google searches for "guys wearing tiger print boxers next to a new car" and, voila, my diary was the first one up. But anyway, thanks for reading. Thanks for the emails. Keep 'em coming. I'm still waiting for the "dirty thoughts" email I asked for the other day. *wink* *wink* Remember the roommate I had up until August? The overly obese, stinky, lazy, idiot of a roommate I had? Remember her? The one who owes me $200 in bills? Well, I was going to be Mr. Nice Guy. I was going to let the bills go. She spends all of her money on pot, and any money I took from her would be money away from her marijuana habit. We can't have that, no sir. So, I was going to let the $200 go. But then I started noticing little things missing here and there. Not big things: rolls of toilet paper, cleaning supplies, a towl or two. But then, I started cooking last night. For those of you who don't know, I am quite a foodie. I love everything in my kitchen. Probably to an unhealthy extent. I am a self-described master at making wonderful, good salads. I cream for my salads. One thing I like on salads are toasted almonds. I noticed last night that one of my airtight storage containers -- which held a huge bag of almonds -- was missing. It took me a long time to realize this. But I realized it. Losing the almonds pisses me off more than losing the container. Almonds are damned expensive! It'd be cheaper to cook with crack. And plus... you don't steal someone's tasty food. That's just bad form. But then, I panicked, dove down to my cabinets, and held my breath. I threw every pot and pan I own onto my kitchen floor. If someone had been evesdropping, they would have then heard, "Oh. That. BITCH!" For those of you who wish to keep your kneecaps in full, working order, you must know that you should never, EVER mess with a foodie's cast iron. I've spent five years perfectly caring for, seasoning, cooking fried foods in, and in all ways loving this cast iron skillet. It takes a lot of work to get them to the stage where I had that one. I planned on giving it to my grandkids. But it was gone. Exeunt. Adios. I was going to go to the Boone County courthouse today to file a suit against her for a good bit of money. But I have another option I am weighing. My next door neighbor -- who I have always referred to as my Mafia Neighbor -- is in the very shady business of bail bonds. You should see some of the characters that come and go. And, I shit you not, the cars they use get new bulletholes about once a month. They are always out there banging out the dings and repairing shot-out equipment. I'm very seriously considering telling one of these guys that I will give him half of whatever he can get from her money-wise. And I don't doubt in the least that they will do whatever they can to get as much as they can from her. I guess I could go the legal route of suing her for the bills and stolen property. But, jeez. That's just not as fun. There aren't hour-long dramas on HBO about guys who sue for a couple of hundred bucks. Back onto the subject of people contacting me... I had a girl contact me earlier today saying something to the effect of, "Nice diary. You make me squirm in my seat in ways that will one day send me to hell." Of course, I responded. Turns out she was a highschool girl, so that wasn't good at all. But, what was especially kewl was that she was a highschool girl from the boarding school I attended. Totally random. She didn't even know I ever lived in Mississippi. I left for boarding school when I was 16. It was four hours north of Picayune, my hometown. It was a boarding school for "academically gifted" students, and it was basically just like college. We lived in dorms, had college schedules, etc. It was a great school. I met some really incredible people, one of them being Best Friend Lisa who, if you remember, I am going to visit next week. Remember a couple of weeks ago when they had all of those deadly tornados through Ohio, Tennessee, and Alabama? Well, one of them hit my old school's campus. And, as this person told me, my old wing in the dorm was pretty much completely destroyed. Peyton Hall. East wing. Third floor. Gone. Damn. Remind me to tell you the story about when I got mono so bad that I had to get my residential advisor to basically carry me to the bathroom. Well, that's about it for me. I have to get started on another story for my creative writing class. I have another big one due in a week and a half, and I am running low on ideas. I am doing some revising and editing on my first big story for all of you to read. It will probably be up over the weekend or early next week. It's good. It has suicide bombings, vindictive wives, and a pretty girl who writes poetry. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll send me dirty emails. Ahh. The joys of writing. 11:36 p.m. - Wed., Nov. 20, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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