-- I've been stuck in this damned chair all day. I got here (the
3rd Floor CLICC lab) at, uh, 11:00 or so. It's now 7:35, they're
closing in 25 minutes, and I gotta put in an entry fo' the day. Let's
see how well I work under deadlines. Actually, I know how well I
work under dead lines -- not very. My stupid history project is due
on Wednesday, and what did I do today from 6:00 to 7:00? Play stupid
Sportszone trivia. Got my butt worked, too.
I forgot to mention that I had lunch on Saturday with Maya and Jenny at the new Todai in Brentwood. Fo' all you non-Angelenos (and you ignorant ones, too), Todai is an all-you-can eat sushi buffet place. The one in Brentwood has the added feature of being a "shabu shabu" house. I had forgotten what the real definition of shabu shabu was. I knew it was a slang term for heroin, but I didn't think that's what they were offering at this Todai. (Maguro, yellowtail, china white, white horse...). Upon walking in, I learned it's a place where you have a boiling water pot on your table, and you put raw meat and noodles in there to boil. Pretty phat. Of course, the first piece of meat that I picked up with my chopsticks to drop in the water drew a stunned gasp from Maya, who I am thinking of naming My Local Health Board. She pointed out the dangers of salmonella poising and that I shouldn't touch raw meat with eating utensils. I continued to do, figuring what the hell, it's just my health. My Local Health Board (she's a public health grad student) has been learnin' me good about
Maya also pointed out an interesting fact about myself; I treat everything like a Trivia Pursuit match. When I see an opportunity to leap in and point out a fact or bit of knowledge, I reward myself with a pat on the back (not literally, I'm not that big a goober), and a smug sense of pride. Somehow, pointing out random trivia blurbs is the only way I have of expressing self-esteem and feeling good about myself. Well, that and kicking ass on a PlayStation against Das, which never happens. But yeah, pointing out facts and feeling smart is the only way that I develop self-confidence, and it's a fragile one at that. If I'm proven wrong, I'm confounded like Lex Luthor and left to mutter excuses and doubt myself. I'm surprised I don't yell out "Curses!" whenever I get something wrong. The trick for me then would be to find a really dumb girl and point out things to her so that she thinks I'm smart. Unfortunately, I get the feeling this is exactly what happened between my mom and my dad, so it's not the best model to work from. Besides, I need an intelligent woman. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't like em' skinny and stupid. My woman's gotta have brains. Not those kinds of brains, you sickos. (Ignore that last point if you seem confused). I think I treat a woman badly if I felt I was smarter than her. I just look at my dad for proof of that. Gotta find me a Rhodes Scholar KBS. I should like, make up signs and post em' around campus and around K-Town: "4.0? IQ of 140 or above? 34 20 30? Send a photo to Haole's Scholarship Fund."
School is sapping my zest for life. My writing has suffered, I know dat much. School would be so much easier if I was a basketball player. I would get free tutoring, free note taking, have a gang of hangers-ons to write papers for me, and get tons of hot wenches who'd wanna get wit' a 6'10 Haole Dunker. I'd be 6'10 with 4'11 luscious honeys on my jock 24/7!!! And my chaji would be bigger, too! It'd be... Oops, CLICC closing in five minutes. Gotta get out of here. Lates.
PS -- Pics is updated