2/05/98 -- I woke up this morning and didn't take a shower before going to my 11:00 class.  I woke up to see my roommate Mark hop in the bathroom ahead of me, and then heard the familiar splatter of water hitting the bathtub floor.  The shower head doesn't work right, so they took it off, and now we have just have a stream of water pouring out of this little rod in the wall.  It's all very phallic.  Anyhow, Mark got out, then did the whole in-out routine that guys do (out to put on clothes, in to shave, out to put on more clothes, in to brush teeth).  So then I see Stephan, another one of my roommates, hop in the bathroom, and once again I hear the water running.  So I realize I'm not going to be able to take a shower and go to class on time, so I decide to sacrifice the shower -- I must be re-dedicated to school, now.          Oh yeah, I took a shower after I got back, so I'm not all grubby, still.  Although I just made it in there ahead of Ban, my third roommate.  I also noticed I have a second cowlick on top of my head.  I have a leviathan-like cowlick on the front of my hairline that prevents me from doing much with my hair, and that forced me to wear a cap for two years straight so that I could do something with it other than watch it stand straight up like a flagpole.  But yeah, when I cut my hair short like it is now, my secondary cowlick on the top of my head pops up.  My head looks like a nicely-cut lawn with one big weed growing right in the middle of it.  (No, not that kind of weed.  Get your minds out of, uh, my mind).        OK, tomorrow is bookstore day.  I'm gonna hit every big bookstore I know of on the Westside and fill out applications.  Borders', Barnes and Nobles, even the elusive Super Crown on Wilshire.  I have a hard-on for working in book stores.  I guess I miss the library and still wanna be around books.  Too bad the B. Dalton and Waldenbooks near campus have closed down since I've gone to school here.  Ooh, but there' that one down in Westside Pavillion...huh?  Oh sorry.        Thinking about Jeff today.  He's an old friend I haven't talked to him in forever, since he got hitched, again.  He's this cool guy who I can't describe for a multitude of reasons.  But he's of the Cahonese.  The Cahonese are a race of dedicated gamblers, like Das and Albutt.  People with cahones are of the Cahonese.  Confused?  It's not important.  Ask me for a better definition sometime.          I was reminiscing about the time we went to TJ together.  At that point in my life I didn't drink (what a waste!), but Jeff had been down there before, and said he wanted to go to a whorehouse.  So were walking down Revolucion (the main drag in TJ), and he's got this single-minded attitude about finding it, but I had the feeling he'd never find it, cuz it was off Revolucion, and he couldn't remember the name.  So we're crossing some street, and he looks down it and says, "There it is, Fuzzy Land!"  Yeah, a whorehouse called Fuzzy Land, with a big pink neon sign of a rabbit above the door.  We walked down and step inside, and it's like a waiting room or a lobby, with hookers in bikinis sitting around with gringos and negros.  One of the better-looking one immediately puts her arms around Jeff like she knows him.  Me, I look to the couch on my right and see the biggest, nastiest, fattest hooker I could imagine.  I did an immediate 180 and walked right back outside.  I'm sorry, but she-blob scared me outta there.  Jeff follows me out, because he needed to get some $$$.   He gets cash and goes back, and I tell him I'll meet him out front in 30 minutes.          After 30 minutes of watching Jai Lai down on some TV screens, Jeff comes back to tell me that he's having his chaj sucked on for $20, when this big bouncer guy busts in, demanding another $10.  Jeff argues with the guy, telling him he doesn't have any more money.  So the guy leaves, and Jeff goes back to his blow job.  I just remembered that story and thought it was hilarious -- having some guy bust in on you during oral sex and demanding more money, and standing there having an argument with him with your schlong dancing about.  Wonder if President Bill ever had this problem with a state trooper?        I mentioned going to the whorehouse once to Nicole, and she told me I should have gotten a blow job.  It'd have been theraputic, or so she says.  I think most people who know me would agree with her statement.          She also just told me I have an incredible Superego.  Which one is that?  Doesn't exactly make me feel like Spider-Man.  She told me I need to let my Ego take over for a while.