3/18/98 -- Day 2 of Part II of Life at Maya and Jenny's; I've seen Maya for all of about 15 seconds since I moved over yesterday.  My time yesterday was consumed by getting contacts and drinking, and today it's been me here at the IMPL lab working on my lame-ass history project.  I have guilty feelings, like I shouldn't be hanging out there much because...I dunno, I just do.  My mood's been pretty dour all day, too. 
     But that's gotta stop! Well, not really.  Today this girl in my history class was pointing at me through the glass like I had a third breast growing out of my forehead.  I noticed she was mouthing "I saw you!"  over and over, so I went into the Mac lab and inquired as to the manner that she saw me.  She mentioned that she saw me on the news at Maloney's on Sunday nite (the broadcast that I missed cuz I was down in Garden Grove K-town).  So I guess I did make it on TV, and in true Haole fashion, I missed my moment.  She also said that after the clip, Sharon Tay was panting and sweating, and heard saying to Hal Fishman, "Who was that guy?  He was FINE! I gotta get his digits!"  Oh, and then I woke up. 
     Heh, I forgot that yesterday, after I stumbled out of Maloney's, I went across the street and played this Harley-Davidson simulator they have there.  You basically sit on a "hog" and race around West LA on it, avoiding cars and people and trying to make it to the next checkpoint.  Holy Shinto, I was all over the road on that baby.  I could not keep the damn thing going in a straight line!  I think I managed to avoid any cars, miraculously, but I know I plowed through a few dozen pedestrians, and into a few walls.  Luckily, when you crash, you don't blow up in a pixelated explosion, your speed just goes to 0.  Lucky for me, that is, or else the whole game would have consisting of my hog erupting in flames.  That would not have been worth a dollar.  So kiddies, don't drink and bike.  Unless you're really good at it. 
     After I worked on my project today, I went down to the comic book store, and then rode back up to campus.  However, I felt very ashamed of my comic books.  I could hear the unvoiced snickers of my fellow Bruins -- "Snicker, Snicker" -- and heard their silent disapproval.  "Look at that goober, reading comics.  What a dork!"  So I sat on campus and inconspicuously read a few in the freezing wind, pausing only to watching some hella luscious honey doing some kind of fashion shoot 40 feet away.  Too bad she wasn't wearing less (she was wearing coveralls and some sorta halter top underneath that).  Too bad for me, that is -- her nipples wouldn't frozen in that wind.  Yeah, but I felt awkward bringing my comic to campus.  But then I thought about in a way to make me a little more confident with em'.  If there are goobers walking around here with green hair, then what's so wrong about bring comic books to school?  Woohoo, geek pride!      
     Oh yeah, I'm hear in the IMPL lab instead of the CLICC lab or OAC lab as usual, cuz I'm hiding from Ban.  Ban goes to the CLICC lab alot, especially with no power in his apartment, so I'm just trying to avoid him for some reason.  I'm not even sure what the reason is, anymore.  I wasn't on the lease, I wasn't going to sign the lease (it ran to September, not June, like he had said -- not that it mattered), and the only thing I did sorta wrong was not tell him that I was moving out...yesterday.  Whatever,  the manager will just pin it on that lame-ass Stephan, and Ban will get out of his lease without a problem.  I'm sure of it. 
     I guess I should be happy now that I'm outta Glenrock and back in Brentwood.  I'm living the dream of millions of Americans -- living in a snooty white neighborhood.  Well, there're a few Asians and a token black, but basically it's white people in big homes with four cars in their driveways.  And it's got power!  Lights, a refrigerator, a microwave, all of which work!  And the phone, no one is going to connect the phone!  Holy Shit, that is great.  Of course, there is a downside -- I'm sleeping on a floor harder than a stiffy -- but we take the good with the bad, right?   
     My (new) contacts are already dried up from sitting in front of a monitor and microfilm reader all day.  Still, I like having em'.  They beat the ones that I had been wearing -- the ones I'd left in for twelve weeks instead of two, and we're both of the wrong thickness, and maybe even the wrong prescription.  My eyes sting a little more, and I think I can see all the cute honeys around here just a little more clearly...damn, now I gotta get back down to Paul's and check out his sistas some more.  Sista can't resist ya'...     
     Click on here to listen to something that could easily come from my mouth...(it's a .wav file, so you can download it or play it or whatever)
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