7/1/99 - Shit.  I realized yesterday at lunch that yesterday was in fact the last day of the month (June 30), and that I had made no plans to fully evacuate Ray's house until the weekend.  So I had to go home and offer to pay his mom rent for three days until I move out entirely, which I plan to do on Saturday.  She didn't want to take any money, and she's cool with it.  But I just felt like such a dimwit -- it takes me until noon of the last day of the month to realize that it is the last day of the month, and that I needed to have moved out. 

And of course, everyone's gonna be busy this weekend with their own thing.  I guess Winston's woman's friend Ngan is gonna be in town, but Winston and his woman are gonna be up north, so Ngan gets to stay at Ray's and hang out with Das, who apparently gets to be her entertainment.  Ray and Farand are chilling on Saturday with Farand's friend Monique, and Paul...well, Paul will think up some excuse.  He was trying to yesterday.  So not only do I have to move by Saturday, but I have two tickets to the Dodger/Giant game, that I can't just give away to anyone.  I have to give them to someone in the office.  Hmm, maybe I'll drop em' off somewhere with a hottie, and disguise my handwriting.  Oh well, I like moving shit by myself anyway. 

Fuck, Jenny just called me to say that Maya's in Cancun.  It's like her graduation present.  Fuck!  That girl goes everywhere.  Since I've known her, she's gone to Europe, India, Singapore, Hawaii...my overseas excursions have been limited to buying Japanese porno mags.

Several Hours Later...Fuck I hate work.  Did I mention that before?  I have so much ridiculous shit to both do and to put up with, it's, well, ridiculous.  We've got a new intern in today, and of course I'm the one who's supposed to train him on everything.  This is pretty fucking dumb because, a) I have too much shit to do already, and b) shouldn't someone with more experience be doing this shit?  Of course not.  If I get stepped on, who's gonna care?

Shit.  I gotta stop eating.  I got baked last nite, and I was holding out really well for a couple of hours -- all I had was a candy bar.  But at 10:00, I gave in and ordered to medium pizzas from Dominos, b/c they basically cost the same as one medium b/c of a special.  Stupid capitalism, always fucking with a stoner's head!  So I finished one, but have another sitting at home on the kitchen table, stinking up the kitchen with the wonderful smell of pepperoni and mushrooms.

Yo, I gotta cut this short. Sorry.


 
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