[<< | Prev | Index | Next | >>] Friday, October 08, 1999
Tiles, Ticos, and Strippers, Oh My! Also: Maui News, the Un-Dead Dad, and Storms
The floor is done. It's gorgeous. Came out much better than I thought it would. But my bedroom smells like the inside of an engine due to the industrial strength sealer I got from Roma Tile. And, assuming I wake up tomorrow, I still have to install the toilet and caulk various corners and seams. Does it ever end?On an unrelated topic (women), a friend of mine was extolling the virtues of patience to me today. I reminded him that sufficient patience can eventually lead to death.
Four previously unrelated female friends of mine have become strippers in the last few months. My girlfriend started it, and it spread from there. The most recent addition is my previous girlfriend, who's now just trying out.
Surely I have daydreamed about having a stripper as a girlfriend, but I don't know what to think about having that chronology reversed. She was the girl next door when I met her. Well, sort of...
Speaking of which, the Tico boy turns out to be a European mutt, not really a Tico, though he was born and grew up in Costa Rica except for spending high school in California. He seems a reasonable fellow from what I can tell second-hand. He even ran off to get tested for STDs when he heard of the goings on here. Or so he claims. My confidence in him is increasing, but is still well down in the grey zone. And then there's the bit about the hot wax and handcuffs...
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I have secured a place for Garrett* and I to stay for two nights in Maui. In that time, we need to find a place to stay long enough to find a place to rent. For $8, we had a copy of the Maui News Sunday edition deliverred here. Looks promising. Rents there are cheaper than here! We'll have to wait until we arrive to see what it actually buys.
I talked to my father today. He's still alive. He's been clinically dead three times, and at any given time he's usually got a year at most to live for one reason or another. But you wouldn't know it to meet him -- he seems perfectly normal and healthy, except for his propensity to tell scary first-hand medical stories.
Once, after not hearing from him for months, I got a message on my answering machine saying "Hi Simon, it's your dad! I've had brain surgery since last time we talked... I think..." Heh. Turns out he'd been in for an MRI for his back pain, and the technician missed and caught the bottom of his head and inadvertently discoverred a giant brain tumor (which turned out to be the cause of the back pain, so maybe the technician was a genius). They took out a fairly large portion of his brain, but he doesn't seem to be any worse for the wear. He may have lost a few IQ points, but he had plenty to spare. You really wouldn't guess any of this if you met him. Or that he was once sentenced to twenty years in a federal pen. But that's a story for another time.
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I'm really depressed lately, but I'm not sure why. I think it's having all these people around. I think I'm happiest living alone.
I love storms. They cut off the world, as if for the next few hours nobody exists but you, and no place exists but your own little house. It's the only time I ever have that "I'm done" feeling, as if I can relax for a moment, let down my guard, and truly attend to my own whims and wishes, even if only in my mind.
Storms, and when I'm taking a shower. :)
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