-- Ah, the brink of a long weekend. And I won't be here
for most of Tuesday or Wednesday b/c of a training session for LotusNotes
and Word. Who-hoo! At least, that's the plan from the way this
e-mail I got sounds. Of course, I might not be able to update here,
either, but we'll see how it goes. I've been getting in early this
whole week. At least the training gives me something else to put
on my resume.
Heh, yesterday Ray and I had a late dinner at Carrow's (a Denny's-esque diner for those of you who aren't privileged to have em' in your neck of the country), and we started talking about hitting women, and when it might be deemed socially acceptable. We figured out it's definitely OK if the woman is bigger than you and can kick your ass, like Valeyta Althouse. Valeyta was this girl who lived down the hall from me (and next to Ray) during our first year at UCLA. She was the top collegiate women's shot-putter in the country, and is now an Olympian, both in skill and in dimensions. She's like 5'9, 220, and could probably separate my head from my body with a concerted effort. Why I would ever get into a fight with her, or any other woman of her size, I dunno. 95% of the woman in the world aren't bigger than me, and most of the woman I'd be interested are about 50% smaller than me. So yeah, contrary to my macho bullshit talk with Phil over the years about beating women up, I'd probably feel really bad about smacking around a 5'0, 95 pound girl.
Unless she was into the ruff stuff, of course. Heh.
I am so not fun now that I don't drink. No more nights of hanging out at Cliff's, not more interesting drinking stories like Bunny Woman. One night the boyz and I went into Cliff's for a night of drinking, and I when I went to order a pitcher this skanky looking chick in her 40s looks at me and says, "Nice eyes, nice face, need a new haircut." I wuz like "OOOOOKAAAAYYYY...."and walked off. What the fuck is wrong with my haircut? It isn't my fault I have a Bevo-sized cowlick. When I went back to order another drink, the woman grabs me by the face and turns to Barbie the Bartender and says, "Look at this guy, couldn't he be a male model with a different haircut?"
I tried to stay well away from her for the rest of the night, noticed how she would leave with a few different guys and come back twenty minutes later. After an hour or so we were sitting around a table and she came up to join us. She brought her pet rabbit, Bunny. She showed us how Bunny could play dead, which now that I recall it, was a pretty neat trick. Then she showed us how Bunny could drink booze. The she started to talk to Winston about his cel phone, and how Bunny eats cel phones. Then she started...well, by that time I wanted to get the hell out of there, so I went out Ray's car to pass out. I see her leave with this nasty Japanese dood, and they go into his car for awhile. When Ray came out to drive me home and I woke up, they weren't in the car anymore.
See, drunken skanky psycho trick-turning chicks who bring pets with unoriginal names with them to a bar --> this is what I miss about the drinking life. I wonder if she had a cat named Kitty.
OK, so that's it. Hope everyone out there has a Happy Valentines' day. Well, I hope all the really cute non-white girls out there don't, and that they break up with their boyfriends cuz they're all assholes, and they just wanna meet some nice guy who will love em' like an Aryan boy should. Yeah...