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Blue balls, da ba di, da ba da...
Written on 2001-08-07, at 3:27 a.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 Order Fried Chicken

1 Mashed Potatoes

1 Corn on the cob

2 Biscuits

1 Sweet Tea (look at all this, god, I'm becoming a naturalized southern belle.)

1 Brick(?, is that the proper term?) of chocolate cheesecake fudge

1 Pretzel


So...before I get to ANYTHING, I have to thank Alex (qtm-flux) SO SO much for this great new layout.

He stayed up WAY later than he should have, just to make it look all pretty, so Alex...

THANK YOU!!!!!!!

I feel like I have a new car, everything is bright and shiny and new, but there's a teddy-bear on the hood.

(The bears name is Arthur, by the way.)

And I sleep with him on a nightly basis.

To love me, is to love Arthur.

Does that make me a bear lover?

(As the gay boys chuckle, the heterosexuals scratch their heads..."Does he like the forest?"


Speaking of gay boys....

I think my boyfriend just left.

You see, I'm not sure, because I don't really know if he is offically a "boyfriend".

What I do know is he left me with messy hair, raw lips, and a case of blueball which could floor a lumberjack.

Now, this boy...let's call him...Carlos...

...since that's his name...

He's someone I have been dating since the beginning of July, so I guess we're rounding out a month or so at this point.

Here's the quick version...

We started "dating" back in July...went out a lot, then just before he left for Canada for 2 1/2 weeks, something a little, um...more...than a good night kiss happened (check out the entry titled "A day late and 85 dollars short", there's a quick reference to him.)

So he left...

And I couldn't take my mind off of him, all I could think about was "God, when do I get to see him again???"

The answer would be tonight.

It was....wonderful.

It was....exciting.

It was....hard for my sister to get the hint to LEAVE when he got here. (She just moved to town.)

So, I was finally with him again, finally alone time...

But I still had no idea where we stood on a relationship level.

Which is why I let it go no further then a heavy little snog-fest on the good ol' papisan.

This is something I'll obviously be addressing with him, but I wanted tonight to count, so I had to make sure I wowed him, and I think I did. (Let's see if I could possibly cram another "I" into that sentence.)

I don't know what it is...there's something that makes me crazy about this boy...

I want to kiss him all over.

I want to lay awake all night watching him sleep.

I want to put my arms around him and never let go.

I want to get you all some Pepto-Bismal for the mild to severe nausea you're feeling at the moment.


So someone peed in our store the other day.

At least I think they did.

At least it sure smelled like they did.

It was AWFUL...people were leaving, and complaining about the stench.

And it HAD to be someone/something, because it was localized back in section three (back of the store.).

So all day, I refused to do anything in section three, for fear of finding a pair of "urine-soaked khakis" somewhere within the clothing.

I said those exact words when asked to go relieve someone, and got out of it, because my managers thought the phrase "urine-soaked khakis" was truly funny.


Speaking of work, I totally stuck my foot in it today. We have men's polo shirts on sale for $3.99, and all men's sandals for $1.99. Well, I want these things OUT of my store, so I make sure I tell everyone who I ring up about the deals.

Now, naturally, I do it for this woman who was buying like, two things. She must have been late 50's, early 60's. Here's how it went...

ME: (chipper and happy) Did you get a chance to check out our polo's and sandals? Only $3.99 and $1.99. Got any guys you need to shop for?

MELANCHOLY WOMAN: The only men in my life have disappointed me. My father died in a horrible car accident, and my husband ran off and left me.

ME: (stunned and speechless) Oh.

So, who's up for campfire songs!?!?

How the HELL do you answer that??

The truly sad part was she looked like anyone's grandmother.

Anyone's grandmother, that is, who harbors enough anger and bitterness to make the whole of the American Optimists Society reach for the Prozac.

But, while stopping in for some fudge, we found out the the chocolate shop across the way from the store can, and will, make custom impressions of ones "naughty bits", to turn into chocolate sculptures.

So knowing that information cheered me up.

As well it should anyone.

I mean, maybe her husband would still be with her...

...had she given him the gift of milk chocolate mammaries.

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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