-- My psychiatrist dood is changing me over from Paxil to Wellbutrin.
No more tiredness or reduced sex drive for me; now it's headaches and head
rushes. This happened a few days ago; I just thought I'd mention
here so I don't forget.
I went to the Beverly Center with Ramone yesterday. He thinks he needs new clothes to go to Korea and Japan with, so he bought khakis and a shirt. Those aren't the sort of rugged clothes would expect someone to wear who is planning on roughing it through Japan for as long as he can, staying in youth hostels with other grubby foreigners. He is going to be one wrinkly boy. I'm thinking sweats, jeans, or these indescribably cool pants I'm wearing now from Abercrombie. They're like, I dunno, hiking pants or something. And they're bitchin'.
But damn, I forgot how many honeys hang out at the Beverly Center. I said goddamn! Of course, they are all several tax brackets higher than I am. Even the jail bait probably gets more in allowance than I earn working here.
With Ray and his moms leaving on Sunday, I'm going to have this great big house all to myself for a week, and what's the only thing I can think of doing to take advantage of it? Hooking my Playstation up downstairs so I can eat AND play video games at the same time.
I've been calling our West Group (they're a BIG legal publisher) rep in Minneapolis a lot. Y'know, people out there really do speak with that Scandinavian slant, like in Fargo. Yoooo betcha.
Women are the number one source of my depressive mood swings in my life. Be it Akiyo, Sharon, or any other woman I've had a hard-on for at one time or another (and there is a ton of them. Maybe one day I'll list them all in an entry), their actions and words can flip a switch in me either way. Akiyo's the worse, b/c of how much I used to talk to her, and how I still talk to her every day at work. It scares me to think of what I would be like if I ever got into a relationship. I'd be the most neurotic motherfucker on the planet. I'd probably just call everyone I know every damn nite, or e-mail them, getting advice on what I should say or do, or how she said this and how should I take it, etc. And then they'd get sick of me and I wouldn't have any friends. And then without them to lean on for advice, my girlfriend would leave me.
And then I'd be all alone. Well, my mommy still loves me. Oh shit, for a second I thought I forgot Mother's Day.
My weekend plans involve trying to avoid seeing Val, who's back in town after two weeks with some white dude in Atlanta. Y'know, I worry if how I think of Val (the friend I do not want to talk to or see), is how other people might think of me, and I'm just too stoopid to realize it -- just like Val is.