My weekend was actually OK.  I went to Garden Grove K-Town on Friday night and watched Ray get really drunk, and I watched Paurno yack even though he wasn't drunk.  And damn, they pack the honeys into cafes.  Plus, you can smoke in them -- I guess the Fuzz leaves em' alone.  Maybe the owners  pull a "no speakee English" on them, or something.  Whatever, I was satisfied.

I spent most of Saturday with Jenny, who I'm indebted to for helping me avoid Val.  We went to Krispy Kreme, and I eventually ended up eating 10 of the 12 doughnuts we got.  Saw the Matrix -- pretty good, but I'm sure by now everyone has already asked someone else what they thought of it, so I'll spare you my breakdown.  Then I crashed at her place with her weird dog.  Rocky, her pooch, whines whenever he gets excited.  Dogs normally will jump on you, or bark, and wag their tails in excitement.  Not the Rockster -- he whines persistently.  I think he needs counseling.  Whining is like crying for a dog, right?  So imagine if every time a person gets excited or happy, they start crying, what would you do?  You'd send em' to a shrink. 

Sunday was spent watching Ray pack, and then going out with Dave and Paul to get even more Krispy Kreme, which we played for in a three-point shootout contest on NBA Live 99 with the worst possible contestants --  Oliver Miller, Big County Reeves, and Shawn Bradley, three of the biggest freaks of nature ever to walk to he globe.  I ate another 8 doughnuts, bringing my 24-hour Krispy Kreme consumption total up to 18.  Everyone has the same reaction when I mention this to them, too -- "Ooh, that's disgusting."  No it's not, eating 18 rotten eggs is disgusting.  Eating 18 Krispy Kreme doughnuts is good -- what's wrong with people?  But yeah, it's not a good long-term habit.  I'm amazed I didn't put on 38 pounds over the weekend.  I skipped lunch yesterday, and might do the same today.

Last nite Farand stopped by before he left to go back to DC.  He didn't get any bud like I asked him to, but that's OK -- I'd just spend the next two weeks smoking up if he had.  I'd call in sick to work.  ("Hey, Boss, I'm not coming into work today.  I'm, uh, going to order a Pizza and watch some TV.  See you later.")

On Friday, while Ramone was hammered and babbling in the backseat with me, he did manage to startle me with one comment.  He started talking about women, like Sharon, and how I'd be willing to bend over backwards for her, more so than I would for Ray or Das, for example.  If I was in trouble and needed someone to go to or talk to, however, I'd go to someone like Ray, not Sharon.   He didn't blame me -- he admitted he does the same thing -- but his basic point of how willing I am to sacrifice myself for a girl struck a nerve in me.  It's recockulous and unfair to my friends that I expect so much out of them, but am willing to give so much for a girl that I'm not going to get anywhere with. 

However, I just realized my justification -- I don't fantasize about Ray at night.

BTW, I'm supposed to have lunch this weekend with Akiyo.  I'm sure I'll insist on paying.