mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm back home in Columbia Well, I'm back from ol' Picayune, Mississippi, home of the greasy, scary, fat chick waiting in the lay-away line at Wal-Mart. Yep. You read that correctly. All of the greasy, scary, fat chicks in all of the land originated in Picayune. They had to. There were seemingly millions of them there. I wasn't there to lay anything away, mind you. I was on my way to the can. All-in-all, it was a very exciting trip. The best part of the whole thing was getting to see some of my all-time, life-long best friends. I spent eight hours in a casino with my boy Marcus. Only a few hours before leaving to meet up with him, I spent the day with Best Friend Lisa. I had a good friend from up here fly down and spend a few days taking the tour of South Mississippi and New Orleans. And I got to see a handfull of people I hadn't seen since high school when carousing through Wal-Mart. I ended up doing an aweful lot of driving over the entire 10 days. Very close to 3,000 miles, actually. Taking into consideration that it is only 1,600 miles round trip, I did a veritable shitload of driving in South Mississippi. And Louisiana. But I am glad to be back home in Missouri. It's amazing how much Mississippi no longer feels like my home. It is definitely true that once you leave you can never go back. I couldn't imagine moving back there permenantly. I think it would be a nightmare to have my first duty assignment in the Air Force on some Mississippi base. That would absolutely suck. Not as bad as if my first assigment was in, like, Pakistan. Someone would kidnap me and cut my head off, which would be a revolting development. Actually, my dream is to be stationed in England. I'll find me a nice English girl to marry. And I'll live happily ever after with a wife that whispers sweet nothings through an English accent. I told my mom this, and she said, "Oh, no you are not! You will be marrying a Southern girl." Which would be all sweet and nice. But I ran into a few of the "beautiful people" from high school. Or, the ones I didn't see, I heard all of the rumors about. Seems like when you are beautiful in high school, that is the apex of your existence. When you get out and nobody kisses your ass because of how you look, your whole world collapses. There are girls with severe eating disorders, drinking problems, and other emotional problems. The guys aren't any better off. I tell ya what. It pays to be the dork in high school. That's my motivational speech to all of the dorks and uglybutts out there and for all of you who stand in lines at the Wal-Mart lay-aways. Ok. Not all of you. But you may not be the most popular. You may not get laid every weekend. But you will at least be considered "normal" by the general public when you are 25. Someone asked me if I like being 25. Looking back at how I thought and how I acted when I was 18 and knew everything, I am glad that time of my life is over. I like being at my age. I like other people being at my age or older. I think girls in their mid-20s and early 30s are much sexier than, say, at 18. They may not be cute and bubbly and perfect. But there is something absolutely incredibly sexy about a girl who shows a year or two. Gosh. This was supposed to lead to some funny point. But I forget what it is. Well, it is too damn late to write anymore. I ate dinner and made some last-minute plans for my upcoming ski trip while writing this entry. Basically, this entry has one point. I have been asked 100 times since getting back in town, "Did you have fun back in Mississippi?" The answer: "Yes. But it was sure good to get back home." 10:24 p.m. - Sun., Dec. 29, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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