-- Wow, this is a trip. Has it really been seven months, like to
the day, since I last dropped science on the net? I didn't really
suspect I'd quit so suddenly back in April, with not really a formal good-bye
or none of that shit.
So here the fuck I am. And where is that, exac-a-tick-ly? It's in Downtown LA, in a law firm, in the library. Instead of being surrounded by hot young Asian hoochies and beer swilling frat boys, I'm surrounded by middle-aged Jewish men and middle-aged Hispanic secretaries. And oh yeah, I'm still living in Cerritos. So I've gone exactly nowhere in seven months, only now there's a lot less fine chicks here.
I could try to summarize the exciting or notable events of my life for the past seven months, but that would take up a valuable line or two. I'll just answer the only question that people really wanna know -- "Have you gotten any?"
No. But I at least made an effort. Not that it got me anywhere, really. Status quo is OK, right? Not really, since I made some weird bet with Ray where if I don't get some or go out on a few dates or something by the end of the year, I can't speak to him for a month or something. If I did, then I'd get a $100. Or something. The exact details of all this changed alot, so I don't know what the hell the conditions of the bet were. Oh yeah, and then stupid Das cut it with a side bet, where I'd get a 4-way controller option for my Playstation (I have one again) if I win, and I buy him Dinner at the Masahisa in Beverly Hills if I lose.
While grabbing your heads and saying, "What a fucking idiot you are," let me 1) concur, and 2) say that I was drunk every time this came up.
OK, so why now and how am I starting up Stark Raving Mad again? Well, here at the library at Loeb & Loeb LLP's downtown office, I have a Compaq Deskpro 590 in front of me, and a special contempt for my job, which I figured would allow me the opportunity to crank out (or "input" in mid-80s nerd jargon) one of these bad boys every now and then. So I'll try to.
Argh, need more fine chicks at work. There was one girl here at work who was cute, right, and she's friendly and appeared to be my age and shit, so I stopped her on the stairwell one day and talked to her briefly. She was mentioning how she went to Johns Hopkins, and so I asked, "Were you pre-med?" (kind of stupid questions, b/c why would she be working in a law firm then, but what the hell), and she was like, "No, I was pre-law. But my husband was pre-med."
Glancing down, I then noticed the diamond-studded knuckle on her left ring finger, and had it not been for an extraordinary effort of self-control on my behalf, I would have smacked my forehead and let out a resounding "Doh!" that would have been heard from here to Springfield, wherever the hell that is.
Oh yeah, there was another honey I was after, but that's a long story. But at least I got a friend out of that one. I think.