July 27, 1999

7/27/99 - Back when you're in college or high school, or something, and you're really dead tired because you haven't gotten much sleep, somehow you still manage to crank out page after page of bullshit on socialism, or trickle-down economics, or the Treaty of Guadeloupe Hidalgo. You don't think, you just type, and at 8:30 in the morning, you print it out, realize you forgot to type your name on the paper so you write it in pen in the top left-hand corner, and rush to make it to class to turn it in on time because of the instructor's threat that, "All paper must be turned in by 9:00. For every minute your paper is late, I will deduct one letter grade." So, sweaty from rushing and grimy from not bathing, you walk up to the front of the class to turn it in, and glance down at your finished paper just long enough to realize that your opening sentence is a tremendous run-on (like the previous sentence was here).

And then you go home to sleep, wake up 12 hours later, have sex with your significant other, and get something greasy to eat and stay up to watch Conan O'Brien because your internal clock is now more wildly fucked than a Swedish tourist in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. (Sorry, didn't mean to offend you Swedes out there. But you guys are horny and you know it).

That's how I feel, except now it's 9:00 and I can't go home because I'm only starting work now. This is the price I pay for good and stimulating (if expensive) conversation 'til the witching hour. Oh, and there's no way I'm having sex with anyone tonite, either.

So I'm trying to get by on Diet Coke and M&Ms to keep me awake and alert. It's not exactly cocaine when it comes to potency, but it's doing an OK job so far. So far I've had about 8 cups of Diet Coke, and it's now 12:00.

Pfft. I've run of out gas, as least as far as writing. <SIGH> Ray has a tape of Akiyo and I having phone sex. To make it brief, last year she called and Ray's mom picked up on the fourth ring, which is when the answering machine picked up. So his mom gave the phone to me, and a little while later Akiyo and I "went at it." Apparently it's got a lot of me begging Akiyo to stop because I didn't want to go through with it, and her calling me "daddy" which caused me to eventually give in. I found out about it yesterday, and a day later I realized I'm really humiliated by it. He's been playing it for Phil and Phil's bud Maverick, and god knows who else. He's left me a couple of voice mails where he plays the tape next to the phone, and he and Phil tried three-way calling me and playing it, but I wasn't around and Phil didn't want to leave a voice mail on my work.

So yeah, maybe I'm being hypocritical about the whole thing, since I fucking wrote about it here last week, but it's an entirely different experience to relive it, and it makes me really uncomfortable. Not that it matters; Ray's adoration of Howard Stern and Stern's ability to laugh at anyone shows through. But it's something that I can't laugh about anymore. It really fucked me up last year, and I can't summon up the energy to laugh about it. So instead I passive-aggressively ignore his e-mails and bitch about it here.

It's taken a lot of the enjoyment out of the memories of the conversation I had last nite with Paula (which is why I'm so damned tired today), and that makes me as upset as anything. Oh well, anything for a laugh...