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Monday, June 14, 2004

It's just that kind of day. That jockstrap that I was longing for is stuck at the UPS warehouse on the Westside (sigh). The line at the post office is so long there wasn't even room for me to get in line. The super and his assistant are in my kitchen, trying to fix the hole in the pipe in the sink (someone explain to me why they are using a drill); next they have to re-install the air conditioner that they installed upside down on Saturday. And if you saw this pair, there would be absofuckinlutely NO porno scenarios envisioned, believe me! I had only one beer last night, but it's making my head unhappy today. I tried the sexclub. It was, in a word, abismal (is that a word?) And I don't mean just because the few attractive men were only interested in each other. That's not unusul. But it was worse. Throughout the night, one or two guys seemed to feel the need to have loud boring monologues in the middle of the place, and only the occasional ridiculously faux moaning would drown them out. Monologues - you could never actually hear a conversation, just one loud voice talking about anything and everything. At one point, figuring there was no way to ignore this one loudmouth (tv shows, work, politics, grocery shopping, it was all in his monologue), I decided to just go see what the heck he's doing while reciting everything that has ever crossed his mind. Of course, a large can of Crisco and he has half his arm stuck up some guy's butthole, all the while talking about his plans for summer vacation, what he had for dinner last night, who he saw at the club last week, etc.,etc., etfuckingcetera. Hence the need to unwind with a beer after witnessing this hot sex scene. And my hed hurts, and I'm grumpy, and they're drilling under my kitchen sink.