Anyhow, I get to hang out with my mom for four days or so, starting tomorrow.  I won't be here, thank God.  Of course, I won't be updating either, so that's good, too -- no whining for a few days.  With any luck, I'll come back with a car.  I'm not getting my hopes up, b/c whenever I do I'm always disappointed.  Years of thinking that "this is the Houston Oilers' year to win it all!" did a lot to encourage that kind of thinking. 

I nicked myself shaving this morning.  It was a tiny cut, right above my upper lip, and I got it trying to trim my goat so that I don't constantly have the taste of hair in my mouth.  No, I don't think it's the same sensation as eating a girl out, thank you very much.  Anyhoo, I hate these little nicks b/c it takes an hour for them to stop bleeding.  I have a smoke while walking to the bus stop, but every time I take a drag some blood got on the filter.   It looked like I was smoking a tampon.  So I didn't have any more smokes until it stopped bleeding, and meanwhile I had to constantly drag my bottom lip over my top lip so lick the blood up.  Yes, that's a little morbid and gross.  No, I don't think it's like eating out a virgin, thank you very much.  <SIGH>

Maya and Jenny have invited me out a few times recently to go dancing with them at this club in Santa Monica.  Every Saturday is 80's Night, and they have a live band doing 80's cover tunes.  I've got two or three times with them before, and it's usually a lot of fun.  What's really surprising is how much music I recognize.  From about 1981 to 1988 or so, I bought about two albums -- both of them Weird Al.  The last couple of years of that decade my purchases were practically all hip-hop.  My brother was all about metal -- Ozzy, Motorhead, shit like that.  He was sort of like an overweight Butthead.  Well, maybe a cross between Butthead and that fad pathetic kid on the show, Stewart.  Basically, I had no albums or exposure of "80's music", a term usually applied to music by white American and British artists who put out danceable electronic jams.  Until 1990, I had no idea who Morissey was -- that should give you a hint how out of it I was.   I thoght he was the lead singer of the Doors.  I think a lot of my exposure to 80's shit came from living with Das, Ray, and Albutt -- especially Das, he's a Brit Pop freak.

So anyhow, they've invited me out, and either I haven't been up for it, or I'm going out of town.  Eventually I'll get my shit together, maybe next weekend.  I think I'm a pretty good dancer (and have been told as much) considering how rarely I've done it, and that I've got a knee that feels like it's made out of paper mache.  Maybe one of these days I'll get those two to go to a hip-hop night.  Heh, Maya's dark enough to pass for being black, so I could make her my ghetto hoe. 

My CD player is now dead.  It took me 3 minutes yesterday to get it to play Garbage, and that was the only CD I tried that worked.  At least I'll be saving money on CDs for a while.  Or I could borrow Ray's old one that's in the garage.  Heh, for Winston's last nite in LA, the boyz were all drinking in the garage, and they put "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire on "repeat".  A month-and-a-half later, when we were getting ready to go to Vegas, Ray remembered to bring that CD.  He found it in the CD player, still playing "September" with the volume all the way down.  K-RAY - All "September", All the Time.  Sorta like that golden LP in the Voyager probes that keeps playing old tunes for eternity. 

Fuck!  Since I'll be chilling with my mom, I'm going to have to find time to sneak a smoke or two -- she doesn't know I've started smoking cigarettes again (or bud, for that matter).  At least I'm lucky she has no sense of smell, which is really bizarre because her sense of taste is just fine.