Yikes
10-26-98 M 11:05 AM
Like an idiot yesterday, I went to Shanghai Red's with Shirelle and the Gip. We met Modchill and Sarah and James and Joel. Drank screwdrivers and mimosas and ate only a couple of small plates of food. Then we drove over to the Oktoberfest at Alpine Village in Torrance. We did the Chicken Dance and drank 32 oz. beers. Then we went to the Redondo Pier and sat around the fire at Tony's. I had a couple of bourbons. Then we went to the arcade and rode the Tilt-A-Whirl. My head was hurting. Shirelle got mad because when she said, "It smells like oysters in here," I said, "Then close your legs." She got over it, though. I drove us home. I needed something solid in my stomach, so I stopped at Jack in the Box and got a Grilled Sourdough Burger and a 99-cent chicken sandwich. We got home about nine fifteen. I went straight to sleep. My cold has gone from the runny stage to the heavy stage. The kids are particularly dumb today. I must be contagious. After school I guess I need to bring some cash to the jewelers. Why do I hear funeral procession music? I have to get my LACAS paperwork. Have to type even though I don't feel like it anymore. Have to go to work. Watch either "The Wedding Singer" or "Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control." Read some more Independence Day. What'll I do for lunch? Papa Rico's? Fast? 11:45 I'm at Papa Rico's. I ordered a turkey sandwich. Shirelle wants me to go back to the jeweler and put some more money down on that diamond. Tell me that you need no diamond rings and I'll be satisfied. Tell me that you want the kind of things that money just can't buy. I don't care too much for money. Money can't buy me love. Everybody tells me so. 7:35 PM I'm at night school now. Got a nice wet cough. Shirelle drove me to the bank on Temple and then to the Jewelry District downtown to give those guys another five hundred dollars. How can you ever know your true feelings? Are feelings ever a hundred percent pure? I don't dare express my doubts and attractive alternatives. Not even in here. I'm terrified. Resigned. What else? Frank Bascombe split with his girl. We're supposed to watch "The Wedding Singer" tonight. I forgot to bring back "The Spanish Prisoner" thereby incurring a late fee. What else? When's that "Jeopardy!" check gonna show? Around December 13th, I guess. I have quite a few letters I need to write. Have had no contact with Jim. What else? It sounds like my English class is practicing their Spanish. My ears itch.
Like an idiot yesterday, I went to Shanghai Red's with Shirelle and the Gip. We met Modchill and Sarah and James and Joel. Drank screwdrivers and mimosas and ate only a couple of small plates of food. Then we drove over to the Oktoberfest at Alpine Village in Torrance. We did the Chicken Dance and drank 32 oz. beers. Then we went to the Redondo Pier and sat around the fire at Tony's. I had a couple of bourbons. Then we went to the arcade and rode the Tilt-A-Whirl. My head was hurting. Shirelle got mad because when she said, "It smells like oysters in here," I said, "Then close your legs." She got over it, though. I drove us home. I needed something solid in my stomach, so I stopped at Jack in the Box and got a Grilled Sourdough Burger and a 99-cent chicken sandwich. We got home about nine fifteen. I went straight to sleep. My cold has gone from the runny stage to the heavy stage. The kids are particularly dumb today. I must be contagious. After school I guess I need to bring some cash to the jewelers. Why do I hear funeral procession music? I have to get my LACAS paperwork. Have to type even though I don't feel like it anymore. Have to go to work. Watch either "The Wedding Singer" or "Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control." Read some more Independence Day. What'll I do for lunch? Papa Rico's? Fast? 11:45 I'm at Papa Rico's. I ordered a turkey sandwich. Shirelle wants me to go back to the jeweler and put some more money down on that diamond. Tell me that you need no diamond rings and I'll be satisfied. Tell me that you want the kind of things that money just can't buy. I don't care too much for money. Money can't buy me love. Everybody tells me so. 7:35 PM I'm at night school now. Got a nice wet cough. Shirelle drove me to the bank on Temple and then to the Jewelry District downtown to give those guys another five hundred dollars. How can you ever know your true feelings? Are feelings ever a hundred percent pure? I don't dare express my doubts and attractive alternatives. Not even in here. I'm terrified. Resigned. What else? Frank Bascombe split with his girl. We're supposed to watch "The Wedding Singer" tonight. I forgot to bring back "The Spanish Prisoner" thereby incurring a late fee. What else? When's that "Jeopardy!" check gonna show? Around December 13th, I guess. I have quite a few letters I need to write. Have had no contact with Jim. What else? It sounds like my English class is practicing their Spanish. My ears itch.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 11:29 PM
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