Currently reporting in from the computer lab at school...I got done with my chores quicker than I thought, so I decided to swing by the lab and see if anybody was in...there's about 20 people...none of whom I know. Now I've been here for a total of 13 minutes, wrote one e-mail to my cousin...and it hits me...I'm at the computer lab...on a Saturday...for no good reason at all! I'm gettin' the fuck outta here...MisterMan, signing off.
9/14/2002 04:06:26 PM
I woke up to the noise of a whole crowd of people laughing, yelling, and little kids running around...not to mention the sound of my door opening and closing every few minutes, no doubt people mistaking my door for the bathroom door directly across from mine. My housemate's sister was getting married, and it was a Chinese style wedding(which is basically the same as a vietnamese wedding btw) where everyone first stops by the bride's house, exchange family vows, mingle, eat, and then head over to the groom's place for more of the same...usually ended by a big dinner party at a nearby restaurant. My place was used as "the bride's place"...so yeah, a bunch of little kids running up and down the halls, and people of all ages roaming about. Poor Mimi probably dodging feet all over the place...she usually gets freaked out when strangers come inside.
I was joking around with my housemates a few days ago saying that while the wedding was going on, and everyone was in their tuxedos and suits, and dresses, I'd be walking around in my pajamas. Well, when I got up today, after a brief workout, I decided to take a shower. I gathered my clothes and opened my door...and it was exactly that. A slew of dressed up people and me standing there in my pjs.=) I met S's dad on the way to the bathroom, shook hands and closed the door behind me.
After I took a shower, most of the people had left..I headed to the kitchen to grab my milk and cereal bowl. There was a woman and a guy chopping roast pig on the ground(oh yeah, weddings always mean roast pigs=)...I said hihowareyadoin' and smiled, although I'm pretty sure they didn't really understand me. Whats cool is, just a few minutes ago, the guy knocked on my door and handed me a fat plate full of chopped up roast pig..."for you". That was very nice of them. And its some really good roast pig too...usually the meat is a bit dry, and the skin doesn't stay crispy(which is important, because roast pig at weddings or special occasions usually means its not gonna be hot...or warm even), but the meat was juicy and tender, and the skin was crunchy. Dig that.
Well, sounds like alls quiet on the western front right now. Everyone probably took off for more partying at the groom's place. And here I am, with a plate of roast pig and a whole day ahead of me. Not bad for 12:23 in the day. I'm gonna head downtown to grab some canvas, a tube of alizarin crimson, some acrylic titanium white, and get a printout at kinko's. Then Dinner with Hiroshi tonite. Go out and have some fun...talk to you later.
9/14/2002 12:27:39 PM
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
You know its funny how public bathrooms work. A few minutes ago I came back from grabbing a meal with a friend...we chatted out in the 3rd floor lobby for a bit, and I went into the bathroom to wash my hands and tinkle.
Now, for the most part, people will only do a #1 in a public bathroom, or "pb's" we'll call them for short. In fact, most of us are quite comfortable with it...of course there are those who find it impossible to perform if there is someone watching (or listening), but on the all and all, for most of us, when nature calls for a watering, we oblige with no fuss.
A #2 on the other hand, is for only the most stalwart of pb veterans. Those hearty enough to attempt it have elevated it to near art form...with different styles, stances and mental constitutions. Be it the "decorators", who line the seat with squares of toilet tissue, eliminating any skin to porcelin contact. Or the "levitationists", who squat and hover precariously over the seat, forgoing the use of any toilet tissue at all. The casual person though, would adopt a "wait till I get home" attitude. With this in mind, we return to the story.
I begin to wash my hands (I've gotten flack from buddies about washing my hands BEFORE I go, but the way I look at it, my "Mr. Ringo" deserves the same amount of consideration given to others by washing my hands AFTER) and out of the corner of my eye, I see a fellow rush in the door and pick out a stall to make his own. I proceed to the urinal and go through the actions. Now, this is where my brief synopsis of the psyche of the general public towards #2s in a pb comes into play.
Seeing as how most people shy away from the public displays of crapper carnage, it would stand to reason that they are usually quite ill prepared for such a confrontation. This usually comes back to bite you in the ass...metaphorically of course.
In the middle of my session at the urinal, I hear an echoing anal roar call out through the silence, with a wet, airy clarity.
My eyes darted from left to right...it came from the stall the guy had rushed into. I saw his feet underneath the stall door, pigeon toed...in surprised horror at the ferocity of his ass growl.
Now, had he been more experienced, he may have been able to curtail that roar and turn it into a cat's meow. Rectal Judo, if you would.
Uh...I started writing this yesteryday, and I have no idea where I was going with it...=)
