4/1/98 -- OK, I admit it: I'm gay. 
     APRIL FOOLS.  There, got my required but necessarily lame April Fools' joke out of the way.  I'm a lil' tired, so I'm not really up for any great April Fools ideas at the moment.  Maybe if I call up some radio station and claimed I had an affair with President Clinton.  And his wife.  People would believe that.  Hell, throw in Chelsea too.  Actually, that'd make it too hard to believe.  I'd never get on the air then. 
     Wow, last nite I actually turned down the idea of going out.  Since I've been back in LA, I've been trying to hang out as much as possible, which isn't something I necessarily did before.  I used to be very moody and picky about when I'd go out.  Kind of like a woman ordering pizza.  Now I appreciate Cali and my boys much more, and wanna soak it up as much as I can (even though 90% of the time we just do the same things at the same places).  But when I got back last nite, after chllin' with Das and Hoon at WBC, I was just too pooped to do anything, even hanging out at Cliffee's with Ramone and Wu.  I just laid down, fantasized about Ray's mom, and went to sleep. 
     Actually, when I was hanging out with Das and Hoon, those bastards drowned my last buffalo wing in tabasco sauce when I went to the bathroom.  I asked the waiter for some water after I figured out what the bastuhds did, but our waiter did not recognize the seriousness of my plight.  So, to prevent my taste buds from jumping off my tongue in scorching pain, I ended up dunking my finger in the ranch dressing and then sucking it off to cool my tongue down until I could get some water.  I guess that was a pre-April Fools' joke on me, huh? 
     The lady two terminals down from me was looking at her monitor and then started jumping up and down in her seat.  Either she got some really good news or is having some really good sex.  Since she's the only other person in the lab, I'm hoping it's the former. 
     I got very little done yesterday that I wanted to get accomplished.  Every thing I looked at on JobTrak said "Fax a Resume".  So I started work on a resume only to discover that I wasn't sure what I wanted to put down on it, and I figured I'd get ideas from Hoon and Das.  I didn't get many, so I bummed a copy of Phil's off of Ray instead.  I wonder if I should embellish a little..."Skills: Getting some, getting some, getting some." 
     I so do not want to get anything done.  Maybe Nicole is right, and my pre-frontal cortex if fucked like a mutha and preventing me from initiating any plans.  Or maybe, now that I'm done with school, I just don't want to do anything, except babble on mindlessly and ungrammatically here in stark raving mad.  I just wanna watch TV, eat burritos, and collect welfare checks. 
     Driving with James this morning, I realized that a person's driving style is completely uncorrelated to their IQ.  James is a smart guy.  So was Jeff.  But they're both madmen behind the wheel.  But Albutt is a pretty safe driver.  So's Nicole, assuming she stops for the car ahead of her.  Stupid Short Bus can't drive worth a poo -- I'm still amazed he hasn't killed anyone -- but I know a girl who drove the same way, and she went to Smith.  SHE scared the hell out of me when she drove.  James hauls ass around corners like he thinks he's Mario Andretti.  Jimbo Andretti, Mario's Korean love child.   
     Oh, and me?  I'm the poster boy for the DMV.  Well, if the speed limit was 80, then I would be. 
     God dammit, I got another stupid e-mail from this Jungkook Kim guy, except the whole fucking thing is in Korean, except for the subject heading: "A1".  Stupid horny bastard.  Maybe I should get rid of that Korealink ad. 
     Watched clips from Wrestlemania on the news the other night.  I used to be such a wrestling geek, starting back when I was five or six.  By the time I got to San Diego, I'd walk 30 minutes down to the Crown Books to pick up the latest magazines.  I made sure I watched (or taped) every program that was on.  I did play-by-mail wrestling games.  It was like I was a little geeky redneck in San Diego.  When I went to high school my interest quickly trailed off.  I haven't watched a Wrestlemania since #6 or so.  I remember I used to tell people how they all had to be on steroids -- Hulk Hogan being the best example.  And of course, no one believed me.  Hah, who's laughing now?  Well, OK, no one, because it really isn't very funny. But whatever.  I noticed the WWF stopped numbering their Wrestlemanias.  They apparently also still think that getting lame-ass celebrity scumbags like Mike Tyson and Pete Rose and Gennifer Flowers will help their...what?  Ticket sales?  People will pay money to see Mike Tyson fake a punch, or Pete Rose get piledrived?  Oh yeah, they pay these guys to show up.  Paid Iron Mike $4 million to show off his nappy hair.  Ole' Mike oughtta spend $10 to get himself a haircut.
 
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