3/26/98 -- Ugh.  My brief studying sojourn was amazingly unproductive.  When you're worried about where you're gonna be living in two days, it's hard for stuff like baryons and super-symmetric particles to sink into your head.  Figuratively speaking, of course.  They do it all the time in reality.  I do not want to study.  I want to enjoy a night of good revelry and then vanish.  There are no good solutions to my problems.  I hate that dilemma. 
     I also hate having gas.  I've had it pretty bad the last couple of days.  First it was the pizza I ate on Tuesday and Wednesday, and today it's been my $.80 cent Taco Bell bean burritos and a hot chocolate with milk.  For some odd reason I thought that "non-fat" meant "non-lactose".  Nope!  I actually saw some lactose-free milk at Breadsticks.  At $2.00 a quart, I think I'll pass for now.  Maya said Jenny bought some by accident (!?!).  Wow, I just found a whole bunch of web pages on lactose-intolerance.  There's something to write about.  Please, let's have a dozen of you spend hours working on a web page to tell us why you, like most of the world, can't drink milk.  White people think they're so goddamned special.  So anyhow, now I'm farting my infamous lethal farts again.  Flowers wilt as I pass. 
     I wish the Taco Bell at UCLA was better.  Better selection, lower prices.  Oh well, at least it's not $1.09 for a bean burrito.  And it's not like I have to worry about it after tomorrow. 
     Ugh, so yeah, I'm tired, I'm worried, I have a final tomorrow morning at 8 AM, and I'm farting.  Not a good day.  I called my mom to let her know what I'm up to, and I ran out of conversational energy pretty fast.  Then she put my dad on.  He let out one sarcastic comment and I hung up on him.  Not in the talking mood today, Dad... 
     I know the answer to my troubles; rob an armored car.  Every Thursday at around 10:40, this armored car rolls up to the student center and unloads and picks up dough.  The three dudes aren't like very cautious, either.  The driver even gets out of the driving area to help them load the dough on a cart.  Bunch of fat, middle-aged guys.  I could probably take em' out with a Louisville Slugger.   
     Of course, I don't know where I'd go...bags of money are pretty heavy, there's a gang of witnesses (the rubber-necking students who walk past), no immediate street access, and a police station two blocks down.   So I guess it'd be dumber than the guy in Dead Presidents who blew up the armored car.  (That was a dumb movie, BTW).  What I'd need is an accomplice...volunteers?   
     Terrific, I'm taking volunteers for an armored car job over the Internet.  I must be desperate.  Sounds like the premise to a movie.  I'd be played by Frank Whaley.  Of course, if I was directing, I'd cast myself as Laurence Fishburne.  Maybe Jason Scott Lee.  And the love interest (hey, it's a movie!) would be played by Sharon Tay.  And Halle Berry.  And Tamlyn Tomita.  And...
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