2/17/98 --  Interesting three-day weekend it was.  I figured out how to do some neat things with Adobe Photoshop, so I screwed around with that to make some minutely more aesthetically pleasant graphics.  That was a major part of my last few days.  Oh yeah, Stephan took his broke ass home to New Zealand. Yo, check this -- homeboy's January rent check bounced for reasons that weren't his own, so he had like a G in his account, right?  Well, the manager sent us some notice about it yesterday.  Problem was, Stephan decided to spend the money in the last week before he went home to New Zealand!  Ole' Stephy talked to the manager, and he said he'll pay by March 30.  He swears he'll send us the money.  The sick thing is that Mark and I believe him!  We've gotta be stupid.  We shudda taken it out on his ass.  
     What else?  Smoked up the rest of my weed last couple of nights.  Got a lil' money for sharin' it, too.  But hey, I didn't smoke it alone, I stuck with my promise.  And now I'm all out, so I can't smoke no mo'!  But I ate so much, Holy Shinto.  Pizzas and a burrito and ice cream and...I forget what else.  I tried doing a little writing at Jose's while waiting on my burrito....wanna read it?  Aw-ight:  
     Wow, this is a weird time to write, from Jose's!  Smoked up w/(name withheld) and Stephan left.  What a burn!  With no January rent!  Bastard.  I'm really good at entertaining myself w/really weird scenarios, like what if I grew seven inches freshman year + had a jump shot.  
     FOOD!  Eat. 
So see kids, don't take drugs, but, um, if you're gonna take em', do it early in your college career, not later.  You'll do better in school and have more time to lose the weight.    
     So now I'm weed free, and that's good, cuz Borders' was stoopid enough to call me and asked me to come in for an interview.  I don't interview well.  I'll stutter and mumble and get all self-conscious about how I look.  I have this terrible feeling that this little journal is going to become "Haole's Failed Job Interview Update."  Explaining to people why I want to work in a bookstore is equally as difficult -- I'm finishing college, I should be getting a real job, not one in a bookstore.  I don't need to be told that, but I don't want to get a real job, at least, I'm not sure that I do.  I wanna work in a book store cuz' I think it'll be neat.  I never worked a job where I had to interact with customers, or get discounts on stuff.    
     Oh shit, they're giving out Dark City passes.  I gotta go .
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