-- OK, I came into work and got no work done. I've just been
sitting here doing zilch-o-rama. It's Saturday night.
While the rest of young Los Angeles is out trying to find someone to love,
I spent four hours today with someone I wouldn't mind loving, but for whom
the affection is not mutual. Today was Sharon Day. She paged
me this morning, and I drove out in a rental Eclipse Spyder to have lunch
with her. She looks like she hasn't aged a day since the first time
I met her in college. She's just like I remembered -- 90 pounds,
short hair, and the cutest freckles.
We spent an hour trying to find someplace to sell us sushi for lunch (they all closed at 2:30! What's up with that?) We finally found a place next to the Westside Pavilions mall and had all-you-can-eat sushi, assuming you didn't want to eat maguro (tuna), which they were out of. It was a good time -- good conversation, good food, got caught up on things, etc. -- but nothing to write home about. Just to write about here. We really have very little in common -- she liked the Full Monty, I hated it; she doesn't like South Park, I do; she loves Ally McBeal, I hate it, and so on. But what do these little differences matter when there is so much burning attraction between us? OK, OK, if there was?
Oh, and of course there's the little part about how I told her the Eclipse that I rented was MINE, but, uh, let's forget about that, shall we? I don't feel particularly good about it. I don't like lying, especially to friends, but how can it hurt? (Note: I have just set up a typical UPN sitcom plot).
She kept begging me to visit her in Hong Kong. Hmm, you know if you take that last sentence, all by itself and properly distort it, then maybe there is some hope for me...
She paged me while I was playing Silent Hill. I've moved up from clobbering mutant four-year olds with a crowbar. Now I'm pulverizing zombie nurses and doctors with pickax that kicks ass, while screaming "What do you mean my HMO won't pay for my surgery!" Y'see, HMO reform in this country is really needed. I guess that's one thing Canada has on us Yanks ;-)
I went to Maya's party last nite, after all. I stopped by to wish Jizzimbo good luck, and then I was off. It's sad now that I think about it; he was one of the members of the A-Team (Jizm-in-your-Face Man). I was Haole Mad Murdoch. There was also HanniPaul and Ruh-Aye Baracus. If you needed a drink, and no one else could help, and if you could find us, maybe you could hire the Alcoholic Team. (That was Das' and Wu's creation).
Anyhow, Maya's party was cool. Basically it was a get-together for her roommate, who's just finished getting her grad degree in the same program Maya's in (Epidemiology), so basically their entire department showed up. Nothing like a bunch of wild epidemiologists, I tell you. But I jest, it was all right, considering that I wasn't drinking, and that Jenny left early with Sam the Limey. I learned two things -- Pottery Barn is not a concept easily described by a novice $64,000 Pyramid player, and Sam is one really odd bastard. He told me how he spiked a guy's drink once with a bunch of ground-up No-Doze, and had him chug it.
Wow, there is a ship participating in the Yugoslavia action/bombing/war-like activity called the USS Gonzales. That's a ship I'd like to serve on -- the barrio of the US Navy. Wife-beaters would be mandatory uniforms.
OK, I'm Audi. I'm skipping work on Monday.