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Inappropriate Dinner Conversation
Written on 2001-12-13, at 9:49 p.m.

2 Bagels with Cream Cheese

1 Bottle Freshly Squeezed Orange Juice

1/3 Mixing Bowl of Homemade Chocolate Pudding

1 Coke

2 Cigarettes

John Live*

Sporting my ultra-mod Dragonball Z hair today, and though it looks blue, I assure you, it's berry berry black.

*Not at all live

Lord of The Rings progress:

Book: The Fellowship of the Ring.

Page: 67

I'm really not off to a good start.

Let it be known that I am not at all familiar with the cause and effects of sexually transmitted diseases.

I can't even spell the majority of them.

This epiphany came to me shortly after sitting down for my final exam in Biology of Human Sexuality, and realizing that the 95% or better that was so sorely needed for me to pull a "Hail Mary" grade of "B" was as attainable as a box seat to Barbara Streisand's "Absolutely Last No Kidding This Time I'm Really Not Going To Do Any More Concerts After This Except Perhaps A Fifth Farewell Tour" Concert.

So, I'll cut my losses, and accept the grade of "C".


Average is fine.

People like average.

How do they always describe the hot young talent in Hollywood.

The "Boy-Next-Door."

The "Everyman."

The average guy.

"Who cares?", I say.

What use is this inane knowledge to me?

I don't plan on going into a medical field, and the radomness of the factoids rolling around in my head which pertain to this subject are hardly socially acceptable conversation.

Envision, if you will...a cocktail party...

"Yes, that's quite well and all, but did you know that Vaginosis is usually accompanied with a foul cheeselike discharge which clumps around the clitoral area due to excess yeast? Isn't that FASCINATING? More Swedish Meatballs, anyone?"

While en route to my final this morning, I also discovered that traffic on Interstate 4, Orlando's main artery, is just as bad at 7:30am as it is at 8:30.

While caught behind an incredibly slow driver, who's only excuse could be her inability to see above the instrument panel, I became quite agitated, and felt the beginnings of the rage that the kids call "road."

Finally seeing an opening, I took it, speeding around the other vehicle, and slowing just long enough to lock eyes with an aging octogenarian and mouth the words "I. Hate. You.". To which she replied with a kind, matronly smile, and a wave which gave the impression that she was delighted to have made my acquaintance this fine Florida morning.

I felt a little guilty, as the words of my parents rang in my ears...

"John, it's never good judge people too early."

Unfortunately, those words always embedded themselves in my brain as...

"John, it's never too early to judge people."

Be well...



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