mychai's Diaryland Diary

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This was going to be a serious entry about Best Friend Lisa.

Sonufagun. I'm sore.

We had an early DEP call on Saturday. Early meaning that it usually occurs on the third Saturday of each month, but my recruiter has something going on next weekend so we had our monthly meeting this weekend.

Oh. For all of you JP newbies: I'm joining the Air Force. I'm in the Delayed Entrance Program. DEP. Get it? Good.

The way my recruiter does it is that we have one month where we go do some fun activity for DEP, and the next month we stay around Columbia and do something actually relevant to the Air Force. I think we learned how to fold t-shirts and stand at attention at the last boring DEP meeting. I was conveniently "busy" when the boring DEP call delt with running.

Thankfully, this weekend's DEP was a fun one. We loaded up the government vehicles at around 9:30am and drove towards St. Louis.

We strapped on our vests. Loaded up our weapons. Chose sides. Noticed that everyone's teeth looked green in the black lighting.

Then we proceeded with three hours of lazer tag!

That's three hours of running up and down different levels of playing areas, crouching behind barriors, jumping up to shoot someone you've been tracking only to realize that the entire group was leading you into a trap just to shoot the hell out of you.

Good times. Good times.

It was a lot of fun while it lasted, but I woke up this morning with significantly decreased usage of my legs. All day long, I've been walking around like I had sticks shoved down both of my pant legs. Simply put: I hurt.

I've spent the past month sitting around and eating whatever people shove in front of my face. My idea of activity is to eat a full meal then do leg lifts via the Lay-Z-Boy.

Hence the reason I gained about five pounds in December. I personally blame Wolfgang Puck's restaurant in Denver for at least half of those gained pounds. Damned Austrians.


Bleh!

The worst thing in the world is to reach over after writing several paragraphs and take a big swallow of coffee...

...and realize it is ice cold.

Bleh!


The weirdest thing in the world happened on Saturday night when I got in from DEP. Someone signed my guestbook!

Ok. So, that's not at all too weird. People sign my guestbook quite oftenly.

Yes, I meant to write "oftenly."

Let me preface my story by saying that, while in Colorado, I ended up having one extra postcard left over, and I sat for about ten minutes trying to decide who I would send it to. The only person who kept popping into my head was an old friend from high school.

We were the best of buds. Her name was Alanna, and she was the Elaine Benis to Marcus and my Jerry and George.. The three of us hung out hanged out used to do everything together during the good ol' days. Alanna was always our sense of reason and emotional stability. She undoubtedly kept us from flying apart in emotional distress more times than I can count.

And I tell ya. She was one of the hottest girls I ever knew. As one of my instructors back in the early days of college would say, "she was stacked like a library."

But I was a friend. And getting out of the category of "friend" proved to be harder than getting out of Alcatraz. And believe me, there were more than just several times I wanted to be more than friends.

Yes, Alanna. I had a bit of a crush on you. But alas. I was just your friend.

Which wasn't bad. I treasure our friendship more than you know. But dang. Taking you to see Grease when they toured to New Orleans at least should have garnered a little kiss goodnight, doncha think?

Uh-huh.

She's got an incredibly nice husband. At least he was when I met him. Last I heard, he's a preacher. And his last name is -- and I'm not joking -- Ducker. Alanna DUCKER.

It's so juvenile and inappropriate to make fun of someone's name in such a public forum.*quack* But I think for all sense of decency *Aflac* you should consider changing your name to something a little more reasonable.

Like Gooser.


Eh. Now that I have completely shunned one of my best friends ever, I should probably sign off on another entry.

Oh. About my hair. It's really, really short. My digital camera is still stashed away somewhere since the trip to Colorado, so I can't really take a picture.

But it's short, man. Matt Lauer short.

I've had two people say they like it. I hope they weren't just flattering me. I would much prefer someone to say, "Egads! Ugly hair!" then to say they like it then snicker away.

I'll let you be the judge as soon as I can find my that wascally camwa.

. . .

(sidenote: I just added to JP's Creation, a collection of my creative works. Go take a look! Tell me what you think!)

6:52 p.m. - Sun., Jan. 12, 2003

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