-- This morning I was half-asleep on the bus, torn between reading Trash
and trying to think of something to write here. I decided to keep
on reading Trash, probably because it was giving me a bit of a stiffy.
So I have no subject for today. Not even a predicate. So I'll
just spit some random thoughts onto the screen, and see if any of them
-- Barbarian sounds like it be a great-sounding occupation. Fun, too. Women, looting, mass indulgence. Too bad there aren't any left. Haole the Barbarian!
-- I actually turned down an invitation to go to a nudie bar last nite. That's a first. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I went twice over my mini-vacation. I was just tired from two hours of sleep (or rather, from only having two hours of sleep. I'm such a literalist). Figured I wouldn't get my money's worth.
-- James Woods is the man. Not only is he an actor, not only is he a genius who dropped out of MIT, but he reportedly has the third longest schlong in Hollywood.
-- Do I talk about schlong length too much? I must feel inadequate after watching porn for all these years. Maybe I should go back to watching Japanese porns, where the schlongs are all edited out by crystallization. Damn, if I never watched porn I'd probably be happy with what I got. Always wanting what I don't have, never satisfied with what I do...
-- On Monday I was wandering around Horton Plaza in downtown San Diego. It's a nice, big open-air mall. I saw a honey walk by, and she had the look that I die for -- professional-looking outfit with a short skirt, strappy heels, and thin-rimmed glasses. I was walking around later and saw her filling out an application on a bench in front of the Guess? store. I didn't want to seem like that obvious of a stalker, so I kept walking to wherever I was going, which was like 10 yards away, figuring she would be there when I turned around and walked back. She wasn't. I must have paced a 10x10x10 yard triangle for ten minutes, looking in different stores to see if I could find her. I couldn't. Damn!
-- I really really really hate Duc. The guy is an untrustworthy whiny weasel who deserves to get run down by a bus. It'd be great if the bus would stop, back up over him once, and then drive off over him again.
-- The copy machine repair guy who's in the office fixing our copier just asked if we have any alcohol in our office. I said, "No, sorry." He said he'd go down to his car and to get some. Then I realized he was talking about rubbing alcohol.
-- I can't say "no" to anyone except my family. I've finally realized that it's a big problem for me. I think it ties into why I'm not very judgmental; I don't want to say no for the same reason I don't judge people. I don't want people not to like me.
-- People don't like me regardless.