4/30/99 -- Jenny sent me a Space Pen for no reason at all.  It's some funky little metallic pen that's pressurized so that it can be used in space.  I guess the pressurization prevents the ink from floating around inside the pen and not going to the tip.  Shit, I knew I quit my astronaut training course too quickly.  I always give up on things too easily.  I guess the pen's only special usage in a gravity field is that you can write with it upside down, like on the ceiling.  I'm not sure when this would be particularly handy, though.  When am I writing on something above me?  Mebbe I could scribble erotic messages on a girl if I'm having sex wit her. But that would be even more illegible then my handwriting already is.

Nicole brought up something that was totally interesting w/respect to the "Rollins' Technique" of jerking off that I mentioned a few days ago.  I told her how I'm telling everybody about it ("Everybody" is a bit of hyperbole, but whatever).  She said, "You're telling everyone you know because you want them to associate you with sexuality and sexual endeavors/encounters. That's my interpretation."  I thought it was a fucking good point.  I'm a goddamn repressed pervert b/c of my lack of sexual activity, so this is how I compensate.  She's smart.  No wonder she's getting a Ph.D. in this shit.

I've been thinking recently about how smoking up isn't as much fun as drinking, at least when you're around company.  When you drink with some buddies, everyone's laughing, telling good stories, revealing hilarious personal shit -- a good fucking time, right?  Bud smoking is a lot more sedate, filled with more giggling but less activity.  Of course, the short-term memory loss doesn't help either.

Let me tell you that after last nite I can say that I wuz wrong.  Bud is the bomb, or at least Drug Dealer John's bud is.  Especially with Das -- he's a good guy to toke with.  He never toked with me when I lived with him and smoked up every day.  But yeah, now he's Pot Buddy Das.

Das and I ate in Ktown last nite, and I had some not very spicy daeji bul goolgi (fire pork).  They serve it with fucking leaves to wrap it in -- lettuce, romaine lettuce, and just plain-ass leaves.  Not exactly a flour tortilla , but it was all right.  Anyhow, after that Das mentioned getting some Krispy Kreme, which made me think about bud,  which made me think about calling Drug Dealer John.  I did call, John said he didn't have any but that he would, and 40 minutes later we dropped by his pad to chill and wait for it. 

We took some fat hits out of this funky glass bong that had an alien's head for a base, and Das and I were baked like a fucking cake.  John's buddha is the shiznit.  We sat there w/John and watched part of that Robbie Knievel bullshit on Fox.  Then John put in this video that his roommate took in Mazatlan.  Apparently his roommate promotes parties down there, so all these white girls from Minnesota and shit go on down, get loaded, and get into wet t-shirt contests.  The contests inevitably degenerate (or is it improve?) into full-on totally nude sex shows.  It was really something to watch.  Too bad they were all blond white girls.  Das is really a eunuch, but even he was captivated by it.  The video even had this small dick contest for these dudes, but we fast-forwarded through it pretty fast.  (But damn, nothing boosts a guy's ego like watching a small dick contest.)  John turned Fox back on, and we watched World's Scariest Police Chases 6, or something like that.  That show was the bomb last nite.  I totally did not want to leave, but we had to so we could follow John back to Ktown where he picked up the weed that we bought.

Anyhow, then Das & I went to Krispy Kreme and got a dozen, then we came back to Ray's and played Live 99 and watched ESPN until we both passed out.  We were stoned the whole time.  And it was so much fun -- we were laughing about all this shit.  When we were following John to Ktown, I was calling it "World's Scariest Das Chases."  OK, so it's drug humor.  I though it was funny.

Anyhow, I'm resolving (once again) to not smoke up by myself.  Words of encouragement are appreciated.  So are free sacks of ganja.

So, that's that.  There's now a fight going on as to whether to call Phil's bud Louis, "Lothar" or "Maverick".  <SIGH> Sometimes I wish I had really hid this site.

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