So I did something else: I smoked up, ate junk food, and watched TV.  It was actually going pretty well until I turned on Die Hard on the USA Network (do they have the USA Network in Canada?  How embarrassing).  It was going all right -- they bleeped out the bad words, but I've seen it enough times to be able to fill in the blanks --  and then there was the scene where the police dispatch radios the cop at the AMPM.  He goes outside and looks at Nakatomi Plaza...in Century City.  Shit, my thoughts immediately flew to Century City and the work party and how much fun everyone was probably having.  Especially Akiyo. I had to change the channel, or else I would have gotten majorly depressed.  As it was, I felt like crying.  Man, God sure knows how to punish me for not believing in him.  Or her, whatever. 

Then I remembered I had a carton of 30 Keebler Soft Batch cookies.  So I ate them.  All of em'.  Plus some whipped cream right out of the can. 

Duc just came in and told me what a great party it was last nite.  Fuck off, you prick.  I swear, I do not want to talk to Akiyo today and have her tell me how much fun it was.  I am not answering my phone today for anybody.  Or any e-mails from her. 

(Several minutes later) OK, I lied, I have answered the phone.  But I'm in a shitty mood, and not gonna talk to anyone beyond anything essential, since they keep asking me if I went and they've all told me it was the best party yet.  I gave Akiyo the cold shoulder when she called, and I'm not gonna respond to her e-mail where she said she had a great time.  The worst was this: this stupid secretary comes in, ask me if I went to the party last nite.  I say no, then she says, "Good, well then you're well rested," and she give me 80 cases to pull.  I'm sweating like a pig now and in even a worse mood.  At least my boss didn't go.  If it wasn't for the whole get-rid-of-Lan thing, I could really really like the Deej.  She's funny, she's nice to me, and she likes dogs. 

OK, maybe I just wrote those last two lines to prepare myself in case she somehow finds this site.  I don't want her to think I totally hate her, or something.  Just Duc.  Heh, the other night when we were all stoned ("Oh, that night..."), Ramone thought I called Duc, "Cunt".  So I told Ray some story about Duc referring to him only as "Cunt".  Ray got really confused.

I wonder if I'm agoraphobic?  I really hate crowds, but normally I assume it's because of my social anxieties and shyness. But maybe it is linked to a phobia.  The way I freaked at Nicole's mom's wedding, my unwillingness to be in the middle of the party that Ray's ex-coworkers had...it's a pretty common pattern.  Maybe I'll read up on it or bring it up to my shrink in a month.  I doubt if I'm really phobic, though -- I don't mind waiting in a crowded McDonald's on 29 cent Hamburger Day.

I think I'm experiencing a bud hangover.  If I smoke out too much, not only is my head a little foggy, but my stomach kills me from all the shit I ate the night before.  Turkey sandwiches, soft batch cookies, whipped cream and  Doritos -- actually, it wasn't that bad of a nite, if it hadn't been for the whole bag of cookies.  Yeah, I guess this is a stoner's hangover.  Hmm, maybe that's a new term I'll coin: "stoner's hangover".

In preparation for Michelle's 3-day visit to LA, a couple of people have been sending out mass e-mails about where to go for buffet, copied from Michelle's immense e-mail list.  One of the people is this chick I met a few times, once at  party, and once went I went to the movies with her and Michelle.  She e-mailed everyone and asked, "Haoledave, who are you?"  Jeez, I leave such a lasting impression on people.  And I thought she was kind of cute, too.