6/25/99 - It's official: I have no life.  Last nite I called my voice mail at work to remind me to apologize to everyone and anyone here who happens to submit themselves to the brutality that it is Stark Raving Mad.  Ever since I quit drinking, my social life has declined from it's already abysmal status to something below rat shit.  I haven't spoken to Ray since Monday; he's been going out, and I've been sitting home feeling sorry for myself.  When other friends have stopped by lately, they don't come by to see me.  Granted, at the same time I haven't gone to see them, or call them -- somehow I feel like I'd be a big phony to talk to them just for the sake of it.  Shit, maybe quitting drinking was just a big mistake.

So yeah, I've been feeling like shit.  (Great, Duc just walked in wearing his hot pink polo shirt.  That's gonna help my mood.)  Thank God for Glaxowellcome (makers of Wellbutrin), SmithKline Beecham (makers of Paxil), and Nicole.  Talking  to Akiyo only gets me more worked up -- no matter what, at the end of the day I wind up feeling down, b/c she's got her life and I don't have mine.

A few months ago I was thinking about something, and then coincidentally Stung e-mailed me and mentioned the same thing: IF I ever got a girlfriend, would I keep my journal a secret from her (the way he does), would I feel obliged to tell her about it (which I stupidly feel would be the right thing to do), or what?  Sometimes I think I'd just quit writing and updating, but that would suck -- finally I would get some juicy stuff to write about, and I wouldn't write about it!  Dilemmas dilemmas, and I'm not even in a relationship.  And Good Christ, getting into a relationship would just turn me more neurotic than I already am -- you can see how I'm freaking out about Ray, and I'm not even 100% sure that there is something wrong between us right now. 

Something funny, something funny...I know people have the misguided notion that I am "funny",  so I'm trying to think of something funny to write.  I had lunch with Lan yesterday, and she said that one of the guys who had my job before I did used to call one of the Deej's friends "Poonface."  When I was a 12-year old, I racked up a $130 phone bill calling a 976 number for baseball trivia; if you got all the questions right, you could supposedly win a prize, but the last question was inevitable some impossibly difficult question, like which baseball player first wore a jockstrap.  Last nite I paged Ray to 310-ASS-FUCK.  I have no idea if there is even a legit number there, it just sorta occurred to me while I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep.

Before I forget, check this out  <-- it's not much of a beginning, and she should get a spellchecker (like I should talk), but the last three of four entries have gotten pretty juicy.

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