It's odd how the human digestive system knows how close you are to a bathroom.  Y'ever eat something, and then a little while later you start getting that feeling that "you gotta go".  So you figure you'll just wait until you get home.  You pull into your neighborhood, and then your stomach starts making sounds like it's straining to keep all the poo in.  By the time you get in the door, you can practically feel the crap exiting your colon and beginning its descent, so you start unbuttoning your pants on the way to the bathroom door, hoping no one wonders why you're undressing.  By the time you drop your drawers and start to crouch, it all comes bum rushing out in a loud, nasty mess, straight into the bowl (although there might be a little splatter).  You close the bathroom door only after you've gotten on the john.

How does shit know when to start giving the brain signals that you gotta go?  It times it perfectly, too, like one extra stop light or "Don't Cross" signal could have meant an icky brown mess in your pants.  I used to eat Shakey's in Westwood, and it was about a fifteen minute walk back to my pad, and I swear, the poo always knew exactly when to start coming out.   As I walked closer and closer to my apartment, I could feel my stomach churning.  When I got up the stairs, it became a race between me and my semi-digested pizza -- could I unlock the door and bolt in bathroom before my poo came a runnin' out?  I always won by a fraction of a second.  And this happened everytime I went to Shakey's, which was about 100 times, or so, in college. 

Once in San Diego, I ate Taco Bell in Encinitas, made the thirty minute drive home, ran in house and shut the door to the bathroom so fast that my dad actually got out of his chair to ask me, "Are you OK?"  (My dad normally wouldn't leave his chair if the roof started to crash down around him.) 

The other day I was checking my boss' e-mail while she was in Minneapolis (she asks me to do it, I'm not that fucking nosy), and I see a job offer from one of the law librarian mailing lists she's on.  I looked at it, and it was for an opening at the UCLA Law Library that I'd be perfectly suited and qualified for.  I haven't applied, and I feel like I'm not going to.  The pay is the same, but I'm just figuring that b/c it's not here (No Duc), and it's closer to where I'll be living and it's UCLA (all the honeys), that it's appealing in those regards.  But I still feel like I'm not gonna apply.  I don't know why.  If I knew Akiyo wasn't leaving (August 13 is her last day), and I've got first crack at trying to get her job in Century City, my urge would definitely be stronger.  But I guess I don't want to move laterally in the law library business (who does?) b/c I know it's not my future.  Hopefully.

I want computers to be my future.  But here's an example of how far I need to go: While reading one of Stung's entries, he mentioned that he's learning about "Flash".  It's some kind of computer language shit (No, I don't want explanations, thank you).  My first reaction when I read it, though, was that he was learning about "The Flash", the DC superhero who is the fastest man alive.  What a dork I am, huh?  And an uneducated one, to boot. 

Muthafucka, I was stoned this weekend.  The whole damn time; wake up, play NBA Live 99', shower, smoke up.  That was my morning schedule, and I would smoke up every few hours.  I used up all the bud, so now I gotta get some more.  Shit.  My weed habit is becoming annoying.  When I get a car, it's gonna be all over -- I'm gonna be seeing Drug Dealer John every damn week, which is  just the way it was a few years ago.  Hope Jenny doesn't mind when I move in with her.  (I'll have to smoke on the patio, or in my car, or somewhere else, I guess). 

Speaking of a car, in case I forgot to mention, my mom promises me the money'll come through sometime this week.  Then you'll hear me whine about how much of a pain it is to find a car.

I realized I have some kind of anti-female magnetism.  I repel females.  Seriously, no female, with the exception of Akiyo and maybe Michelle Petersen way back in 12th grade, have really thought of me in a masculine sense.  No, I do not have BO, if that's what you're wondering.  It's just that somehow I manage to present myself in such a way that no woman ever manages to be interested in me.  I wish I could figure it out.  Yeah, I know my teeth suck, but it's a cop out to just blame them. 

Maybe I'll start asking all the women I do know what they think of me -- not that I'm interested in dating them per se -- so that I can just get an idea of why I'm such a non-attractive mammal.  Fuck, dogs get more action from the ladies than I do!  I've seen the GIFs!  Not that I make it a habit of looking at that kind of shit -- it's all Ray's doing.  Honest.