1/31/98 -- OK, modern medicine amazes me.  I had this terrible earache which led me agonizing in pain in bed at night, bleeding out my ears onto my pillow while I wished for God almighty or some deity to strike me down and end my pain.  After writhing in pain for 14 hours, I get up and go to Student Health, which not too long ago was known as "Student Death".  After about 40 minutes of paperwork, basic health exams (no, no one touched my nads), and talking to medical personnel, I emerged with a bottle of antibiotics, a bottle of steroid-powered ear drops, and a bill sent to Florida for $18.  24 hours later, I still have my cold, but my earache is gone.  I should go there for all my problems:        "What seems to be the problem?"        "I need to get laid, Doc."        "OK, take this to the window on the second floor and they'll give you a couple of anorexic Korean club girls to make you all better."        Why can't the world mirror my imagination?        Whenever there are basketball games at Pauley, a bunch of up-tight-looking, fortysomething alumni come to campus to watch the game.  I wonder what they must think of UCLA now.  It's not the lily-white, fraternity-dominated college they all remember.  The buildings have changed, the fraternities have declined, Asians have enrolled here en masse...it's funny to watch them b/c they seem so much like somebody's parents, not like people who used to be students here not so long ago.  They wander into the CLICC lab and slowly walk around with this look of puzzled awe on their face.  They seem to be saying to themselves, "Look at all these computers.  I wonder what these bright young minds are doing on them?"  Not realizing, of course, that half the people here are looking for jobs while the other half are looking for noodie pics.        The second time I ever came here (mm, huh-huh), I sat down at a computer, and then a guy sat down at the one next to me five minutes later, and turns his monitor towards him, so that it's facing the wall and away from me.  I didn't think anything of it, until about 40 minutes later when I lean back and look around, and see some explicit gay sex story on the guy's computer.  A little while later he was looking at pics of well-built, well-hung guys...well, the point is that this guy was probably seriously getting aroused by all that stuff, and I'm sitting next to him.  Not that I thoght he'd try and shove his schlong down my mouth, but just that it felt creepy.  Of course, if it was some luscious honey looking at pics of guys with big schlongs, well hell, I'd have invited her back to my place for a live session.  But that never happens.  Except in Penthouse Forum.