Sunday October 9, 1995
Everybody's got it goin' on except the ol' virgin.
If I don't go into seclusion on the weekends, then I usually end up looking
at new cars at the AutoMall, or going to the Wherehouse to check on the
latest CDs. That is what I consider to be excitement. Add to that my daily
experience of making coffee with a broken French Press and it's easy to
see why I'm ready to lose it. Last night, as I was driving to the AutoMall,
I noticed when I stopped at an intersection that most of cars next to me
were either groups of people or couples. The groups were probably going
partying. The couples were most likely on a date. The guys had their squeezes
sitting next to them. They are always kissing each other or something like
that when they are waiting for the light to turn green. I tried to imagine
myself in that situation. No way. What if I was on a date? Hmmm, let' see
Monday October 9
The Date. I am at a posh restaurant with that incredible gym
babe. (You can already tell that this is just an imagined scenario). We
are checking out the menu.
Well, you get the picture. Babes don't want to be
out with a robot. I was at the library this afternoon, talking with my
homey Big John when guess who walked in? Yep. It was that incredible
gym babe. All I can say is that I will be glad when I become a monk or
LoserNet cancels this program and I disappear forever.
"What are you going to order?" asks baby.
"I do not know," I reply, while holding the menu in front of my face.
I also refrain from using contractions just like Data on Star Trek:
"This is a very nice place," coos baby.
"Yes, it is," I say while still holding the menu rigidly and very conspicuously
in front of my face.
"So, did you do anything interesting this weekend?" asks baby.
"No," I reply. I reach for my glass of water while still holding the
menu rigidly in front of my face with my other hand.
Today is supposed to be a holiday, but when one
is unemployed everyday is a holiday. I shouldn't complain. Not many people
have this luxury especially at my age and being a virgin. I can come and
go as I please. I do what I want when I want. Have you ever heard other
people regurgitate this line of crap? I have absolutely nothing to do.
And, even if I did, I couldn't afford it. The Bull and I ended up having
dinner at CJ's while waiting out four hours until the Midnight Madness
at the Wherehouse. Earlier at the gym, both Yalda and Sandra (aerobics
instructors) mentioned that Tammy was coming back. Tam was an aerobics
instructor at the gym for about a year before moving on to attend "the
number one party school in the nation." The Bull was somewhat chagrined
at the news. He had attempted to woo her for nine months, but for some
reason Tam was not interested in The Bull. I had a feeling that one of
the reasons she left was because she had to get away from The Bull. In
all seriousness, I thought The Bull was setting himself up for a stalking
charge. After all, I should know about these things. I spent a whole Summer
homeless because of such an incident. The funny part is that I predicted
when Tam would be back and I was only off by a month. The sinister force
is apparently working overtime.
Tuesday October 10
Why doesn't someone just award me a PhD already?
Doesn't this treatise qualify as a dissertation? It is an ethnographic
study, isn't it? Well, maybe not. The Idiots Next Door were at it again
this morning, so when I got home at ten tonight, I made sure I was extremely
noisy. I really liked it when my modem had to cycle about eighty times
before I got a connection. I have it up full blast, of course. Speaking
of full blast, BigFoottm has his tube up
full blast, too. I don't think that the babe that was over this weekend
was his squeeze. I think it was his sister. I bet that if any of you materialized
here at the Roach Motel right now, you would immediately assume that you
were in an insane asylum. I'll tell you, though, one day these fools are
going to push me too far, and then I'm gonna come home real late. I'm gonna
put on some rap music like RBX and turn it up full blast. Then, I'm gonna
sit in the dark and wait for one of these fools like Mr. Idiot to come
over and complain. Then, I am gonna take my nine and ... Booyah! [Clown
in white smock runs in with hypodermic and administers 2mg IM Haldol to the
41-year-old virgin] Whew! That's much better! I think I need to call it a
Wednesday October 11
BigFoottm left real early and returned
at 9am. He then spent about half-an-hour pacing (yes, pacing) on the linoleum
area in the kitchen. He had his aggie boots on. Then, at ten, he began
his tube-watching day. As usual, he was playing with the volume control.
To show you what kind of nut he is, he turns the volume up full blast during
commercials. Why doesn't he just watch the Home Shopping Network? As it
is, BigFoottm devotes about eight to twelve
hours a day to the tube. That's why I know that he couldn't possibly have
a babe. He's probably another candidate for the Ross Jeffries School of
Skinnin'. You know, that Ross Jeffries is a real comical guy. His basic
premise appears to be that women want men to take charge, and thus, they
constantly test men to see if they can cut the mustard. Ross does have
some good rebuttals to those tests. However, he unabashedly asserts that
a man's main priority is to skin'em up. In a way, he is correct on that
point, too. The wild thing is about the only motivation that can make a
guy do the things he has to do. If a guy was only interested in a platonic
relationship, then he would not really care to be tested. Although it is
not "correct" to say that sexual attraction is a primary consideration
in dating, is it not the real motivating force? I remember when I had a
conversation about a year ago with my homey Skip. He had been interested
in the weatherman's babe (It's a small world, isn't it?), but felt that
she was too much trouble. I remember telling him that the only way to get
motivated to ask baby out was to reduce the motivation to its primal level
(wild thing). Otherwise, he would end up at a certain point and just give
up. If one is merely looking for friendship, then one is certainly going
to draw the line at where the testing should end, usually about five minutes
into a conversation with a babe. That is why I developed the concept of
the eunuch-like behavior. Invisibility insures that I will never be put
into any precarious or ambiguous situation. Well, hey! I'm a 41-year-old
Thursday October 12
The Bull has been in the Bay Area since yesterday.
As an international businessman and financier, he is always on the move.
Apparently, he needed to handle some affairs at the Russian Consulate.
The only business I have, on the other hand, is the "paperwork" to do in
my bathroom. Maybe I should spend some time writing a book on the eunuch-like
behavior. Well, hey! If Ross Jeffries can do it, so can I! You know, I
remember seeing Ross on one of those talk shows like Jenny Jones. He and
some of his students were there as part of the theme on dating. Ross looks
like a computer nerd. Of course, he is far better looking than I am. However,
the audience, primarily made up of women, barely gave him a chance to speak.
That is probably what drove him to start up the Ross Jeffries School of
Skinnin', in which Ross now completely concentrates on scoring. Well, at
least it pays his rent. I have no idea how I am going to pay my rent after
I use up the rest of my last loan. Imagine, I have to pay to live here
at the Roach Motel. I have received word that I can begin my monastic residency
in December, but I may postpone it until March. Becoming a monk will not
free me of my secular obligations like my loans. And, if I remain here
for another three months, I will only incur more debt. Maybe I should enroll
in the Ross Jeffries School of Skinnin'. Can I get a student loan, you
Friday the 13th!
It's a good thing that I'm not superstitious,
otherwise I might be afraid to leave the Roach Motel today. Let's face
it, though, the sinister force does not do its nefarious deeds only on
Friday the 13th. I have already provided ample proof of that. Take last
night, for example. The Bull, the Cardinal and myself were in the same
Thursday class with the same instructor that we had the incident this Summer
involving the prick (gym "owner"). I stepped
outside since we are having a heatwave again and that dump doesn't have
any air conditioning. The Bull followed me. When we returned, the prick
was then disrupting the class and making some stupid announcement concerning
gym rules that no one is allowed enter or exit those doors. Coincidentally,
trouble only occurs when either The Bull or I are involved. I left shortly
after because I could feel the rage welling up inside me. The prick is
a real loser. He also lost his franchise with a major gym because of his
psychosis. Even Ross Jeffries can't help him. Well, it was another night
at the AutoMall. I can't take this kind of excitement. Whew! It's a good
thing I have my trusty old computer. While I was logged on, someone who
was apparently bored wanted to chat via Unix-Talk. One has to be really
bored to want to initiate a chat on-line with the 41-year-old virgin. I
found out that it was some babe, who apparently likes quoting script from
Ferris Bueller. Maybe I should do a random Unix-Talk and quote script
from Taxi Driver like ... "You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me?
There's nobody else in the room, so you must be talkin' to me ..."
Saturday October 14
Well, baby didn't attempt another Unix-Talk session
with the ol' virgin tonight. You know, after she dropped the Ferris
Bueller line on me, she typed in something like, "What are you doing
gorgeous?" Little did she know that she was Unix-Talking to an oversized
lavahead. I should have referred her to an IRC chat room. Perhaps that
is why I just couldn't bring myself to go into seclusion. I did find myself
at the library feigning an attempt to get some work done. I put an end
to that charade after an hour and went to the gym. The Bull and the Cardinal
were there. That gym babe Kathleen, who both The Bull and the Bishop were
once interested in, was also there. The Cardinal took it upon himself to
tell her that she had two secret admirers who were too shy to ask her out.
She said that she has been seeing some guy now for three weeks. The Cardinal
told her that her admirers would be very hurt and lonely. She wanted to
know who these admirers were, but I think she already knew. After the gym,
The Bull, the Cardinal and I went out to eat. Can you guess what the dinner
conversation was about? Yep, babes! Of course, I had nothing to add. You
know, I think I can go into seclusion now.
Sunday October 15
I only went into semi-seclusion today, so I did
not go into my closet. I am, however, logged on and will be working on
my computer most of the day. I have been reading some other real-life Web
chronicles that are similar to this except, of course, that everyone has
got it goin' on. You won't find that here. All I got goin' on is the rent
(for the Roach Motel, of all places). No wonder it is so easy for me to
maintain the stoneface. I have to admit, the face of stone almost cracked
today. While I was logged on to my beloved AIX account, I somehow became
distracted and wanted to know whether the time changed last night (daylight
savings). So, I picked up the phone and started punching in the numbers.
Needless to say, I lost my modem connection. I should have been enraged,
but it was just too stupid to believe. You won't read about these things
in other Web journals. All you will be bombarded with is extravagant lifestyles,
parties, babes, and so forth. Partying for me is breaking out the Lime
Away and removing those crusty mineral deposits around my faucets. Whoa!
I better sit down. Just thinking about that gets me going.
Monday October 16
Sheep looking for a shepherd ... that about describes
most people. I park my six-four in the section of the Roach Motel parking
lot where the spaces are long enough for an RV. I park halfway into the
space leaving about fifteen feet in front of me. Soon everyone started
parking the same way. They must all think that I know something that they
don't. The trouble is I know nothing. I am not the shepherd. I'm a loser.
People seem to apply perceptual conformity in other aspects of their lives,
too, like with the babe situation. Babes use that power over guys. That's
why guys are found doing the stupidest things to impress babes. Guys could
have that power over women, but they are too stupid. Take BigFoottm,
for example. He is probably so amazed by the sheer power of his footsteps
as he stomps away upstairs that he has to pinch himself every morning.
What a fool! Remember Michael Caine in Shock to the System. Caine
realized that he had the power because he was, in reality, the Sorcerer.
That sounds like Ross Jeffries! I don't know much about sorcery but I think
someone is using voodoo on me and is calling up the sinister force to toy
with my sanity once again. About every two days I notice that a dog has
been spraying in my six-four. My windows are busted out, so there is no
way that I can keep Rover out. Now my six-four smells like an outhouse.
I might as well pull the license plates and roll it into the creek already.
Tuesday October 17
I was trying to figure out why I have been talking
about babes and the babe situation almost incessantly. I don't have a job.
I am in debt beyond belief. I'm almost 42 years old. I'm going nowhere
quick. And the punchline is that I don't even know any babes! My whole
life now can be reduced to two things ... rap music and going to the gym
with my shades on. I have received three new credit cards in the last few
months. Can you guess how I am paying for everything? Actually, I have
to laugh because I am going to end up in a different kind of monastery.
Yep, you guessed it ... prison. Hey! Maybe I can hook up with Charles Keating
and he can give me some financial advice! But seriously, let's get back
on track now, shall we? I've lamented about the babe situation on one hand.
And, on the other hand, I know that babes are not interested in an eunuch
like myself. You know, I don't even know how to hold a conversation and
that's not just with babes. Throw in the stoneface and you can see that
I'm not even up with Larry "Bud" Melman. In fact, I don't even know who
I am anymore. I am only going through the motions of existence. I have
reviewed my last few (and far between) conversations, and the pattern is
the same. I have no opinions or knowledge about the subject matter at hand.
My end of the conversation is monosyllabic. If I manage to say more than
one word, then it is devoid of content. All this to say that I think I've
Wednesday October 18
On a lighter note, The Bull has been talking regularly
about the Bishop. It seems that a lot of people feel sorry for the Bishop
and go out of their way to help him. Even the babes are trying to help
him out and set him up with other babes. The Bishop does have a pretty
good "lost dog" routine but for some reason The Bull is concerned about
this. Then, it dawned on me that it is plausible that The Bull is envious
of the Bishop. He has been trying to emulate the Bishop's "lost dog" routine
to get the sympathy of the babes. It won't work. Sometimes it makes me
wonder why guys complain about all the games when this is the kind of stupidity
they come up with.
I had forgotten to get some quarters for laundry
after I got out of the gym. So, around eleven, when I decided to actually
do my laundry, I discovered that I needed some quarters. So, I get in my
six-four. About half-an-hour later I finally find a change machine way
across town. That's what happens when you live in a town that closes up
at 4:30. I would go to one of those convenience stories, but all I would
get is lip unless I buy something. That's the way it is these days. If
you don't buy anything, then no service. Cash. Dinero. Cabbage. There's
only one color that counts and that color is green. Heck, I can't even
afford a costume for Halloween. Maybe I'll go as the invisible man without
his bandages on. It's cheap and I don't have to be anywhere. I'll just
claim I was there. Well, hey! I'm the invisible man without his bandages
on! Sheesh! What am I thinking! I am invisible anyway, at least to babes.
I couldn't get to sleep after I finished my laundry. I think it's because
I ate a whole chicken for dinner. That's quite a shock to the system that
is used to 69-cent cans of Bush's baked beans. Of course, after not getting
any sleep, I was privileged to have The Idiots Next Door come alive in
their full door-slammin' glory. I think they are agents of the sinister
force. Lord have mercy on me!
Thursday October 19
I finally got a chance to catch up on the news
with the Bishop the other night. Apparently, the babe that he was interested
in (that I had heard was going out with one of the meatheads) is from Spain.
The meathead is not her boyfriend. She actually has a boyfriend back in
the old country. The Bishop did mention that she was hinting to him that
she wanted someone to go with to Magic Mountain. He did not comply because
he wanted to brush up on his Spanish before asking her to go. She never
showed up at the gym after that. My question is, why did he need to brush
up on his Spanish? I can just see Ross Jeffries shaking his head. It was
almost a dull day at the gym until The Bull mentioned to me that a person
(who shall remain nameless) told him that several women were afraid of
me and have stopped going to the gym. I assume that his statement was in
reference to my shades and how I look like some kind of ex-con. This same
individual was also responsible for the falling out that occurred a couple
of months ago when he alleged that I called the weatherman's babe a prostitute.
Apparently, this moron is looking to start up trouble again. I disassociated
from this clown way back then and have not even uttered his name. Apparently,
he is an agent of the sinister force. The Bull and I ended up at Taco Bell
for an exquisite Mexican meal. I had come to discover during the course
of our dinner conversation that The Bull has set his sights on one of the
aerobics instructors. Unfortunately, he is repeating the same method that
failed miserably with Tam, the other aerobics instructor who is due to
return to this area in December. The Bull may lose his title once again.
Friday October 20
I must have got a bit of food poisoning last night.
So, that make four sleepless nights in a row. No wonder I'm delirious.
Mr. Idiot has been going through every drawer and cupboard for two hours
straight since 7:30am. Why doesn't he take Fido out for a long walk instead?
Incidentally, I forgot to mention to fans of Loser that I have seen him
around here a few times. Yesterday, he got a ride home from "stooge." I
think "stooge" was going to just drop him off but Loser persuaded him to
go up to the new "palace." Loser may have gotten some wheels as I saw him
unloading groceries last week. But, either he's out a lot (unlikely) or
he parks it somewhere else because I've never seen that car again.
Saturday October 21
The highlight of the week was a notice I got that
I have an interview on Monday with the County for a job. It looked like
a slam letter since it was computer generated. I got a notice just like
this two weeks ago and it was a definite slam letter. I put it aside and
opened it (actually I was ripping it apart) just before The Bull and I
left the gym. It would be nice to get another job. I would like to be debt-free
before becoming a monk. It would also be nice to get a new French Press
so I don't have to do the Rube Goldberg thing with it every morning. Maybe
I should put some duct tape on it. Can you imagine going over to someone's
place to have coffee and seeing the coffee maker held together with duct
tape? Did you know that some people think that "duct tape" is spelled "duck
tape"? It's true! That's today's trivia tidbit, brought to you by the Ross
Jeffries School of Skinnin'.
I'm ready for seclusion but the way things have
been going that may be impossible. On a lighter note, I am grateful to
the loyal, albeit small, readership of these pages including firstname.lastname@example.org,
email@example.com, and firstname.lastname@example.org. The Bull, the Bishop,
the Cardinal and the 41-year-old virgin thank you. And lastly, the gym
returned to its quasi-comical state when I arrived this afternoon and found
that Mike was now wearing his shades. He told me that he has decided to
organize a movement of sorts. Its purpose remains unclear to me, though.
I don't think many people strive to become invisible. Do you?
You know, I better reset my message attribute
because I had another babe initiate a Unix-Talk session. What is stupid
is that at 1:30am some babe is on her computer doing an Ascii version of
phone sex. That other babe did the same thing last week. Fortunately, I
am an eunuch so they become frustrated and end the sessions. Nowadays,
with babes so eager to call the cops on guys, I just wonder why they have
seem to have so much fun getting on-line and teasing all these computer
nerds. I wish I had the transcripts from these sessions. One day, these
babes are going to get on-line with some psychoNerd who is going to Finger
their accounts, look in the phone book and pay them a visit. What are these
babes thinking? It seems to validate the thesis that underneath the rhetoric
of political correctness there still roars the undercurrents of primal
Sunday October 22
I dropped in to see my homey Big John last night
and got my dose of the tube. Well, hey! It's the season premiere of Homicide,
and how could I miss that!? Just kidding! I'm glad I don't own a television.
I noticed that I had a hard time focusing on the images, and the microsecond
segues were giving me a headache. I did notice how easy it was to go into
a trance-like state and become oblivious to conversation.
Speaking of conversation, I was at the gym this
afternoon and talking with one of my homeys, Scott, who is in the 40-something
age group (my age group). Most of my zany cast here are in their twenties,
which probably explains why I don't suffer a poverty of material to write
about. Scott, who claims to almost lead a monk-like existence, was talking
about some babe. I asked him why he didn't snap into action. He said she
was spoken for. I said, "Well, maybe her boyfriend should have a little
accident." He laughed and told me, "There would have to be a lot of accidents
around here before I stood a chance." I tell you, I think it's time for
me to go to the AutoMall already. I'm getting a little tired of seeing
the same cars, though. When are the 1996 models coming out? Sheesh!
I decided to try something new today, so I am
up at the library at 7pm in the terminal room typing this in. Some clown
has reset the terminal to do smooth scroll. It is so smooth that it is
extremely slow. But, hey! I'm an eunuch so it doesn't matter! I can wait!
I have nowhere to go! That's the way things have been today. Everything
has been behind schedule. I did make it to the gym at my usual time, though.
I think that one of the off-duty cops who works out there has been keeping
his eye on me. Maybe he heard the rumor that I was an ex-con. I did the
Gripper machine for about an hour. No wonder he's keeping an eye on me.
He probably thought I lost it. I am about the only person who uses the
Gripper. In fact, I never even knew about the Gripper until the Cardinal
pointed it out a month or so ago. He slammed his palm onto one of the machines
and gripped it. He yelled out, "See this! If anyone gives you any problems
you can grip his neck and crush it!" His voice was reverberating throughout
the gym. A guy who works as a psych tech at the state hospital saw all
of this and thought the Cardinal lost it.
Monday October 23
By the way, the terminal room is a happenin' place.
One of my homeys just came in. He logged on just to check his mail and
wondered why since he didn't have a life. Sheesh! Does anyone have a life?
Maybe we should get an "I have no life" party going here in the terminal
room. Well, there are some advantages to being here in the terminal room.
One, I don't have wait 40 minutes to log on by modem. Two, I get to see
everyone else logged on and I don't feel like a complete computer nerd.
Apparently, a lot of babes are logged on, too. Maybe my Unix-Talk friends
are in here. I should look around and see if any of them have the ol' split
screen on and are typing in some stupid crap like, "Do you want to ride
tonight?" ("Ride what?," "Me, of course.") Yep, you just can't have this
kind of fun everyday. I notice that everyone is looking around in here.
It reminds me of being downtown at one of the watering holes or, wait!
Better yet, it's kind of like the gym! I knew it! I should have worn my
shades. You know, even the most mundane situations turn into a gala event
when the ol' eunuch is there. You know, even my homey Skip used to hang
out in here. Now I see why. It is e-mail mayhem in here. People are coming
and going, checking their mail. Some babe just came in and is sitting across
from me reading her mail and laughing. Probably a note from stud. Or, maybe
she and her friends are exchanging information about stud. Well, it's almost
time to put an end to this charade. I'm due back at the Roach Motel to
listen to the door-slammin soirée courtesy The Idiots Next Door,
and maybe BigFoottm is back. He's been
gone since Wednesday so my nerves have had a chance to subside. You know,
The Idiots are quite a couple. They live such an idyllic life. Their big
outing is to go to the supermarket. One look and you can see why. They
are young, and they probably have a dream that one day Mr. Idiot will become
a successful lawyer and Mrs. Idiot will be elected the first woman president.
Then, Fido will not have to be confined all day in the shoebox. They will
all move into the White House. Well, I sure hope they get to realize their
dreams. I hope Mr. Idiot doesn't get tired of Mrs. Idiot slamming all the
doors all the time, and leaves her. Then again, I used to hope that I'd
win Lotto. Live from the library terminal room, and I'm on my way outta
What happened to OJ? That's what I want to know.
Has everyone forgotten about OJ already? Sheesh! I wish my creditors had
the same short memory span. But anyway, we're live again from the library
terminal room at 9pm!
Tuesday October 24
Things were off to a slow start again today but,
after two pots of coffee, the ol' eunuch was up and running. I went to
my interview today. The interviews were running behind schedule so I took
a walk around the building. Within a few minutes, alarms were blaring.
We were evacuated out of the building because of a bomb scare. It was like
a street party outside as hundreds of us were lined up waiting for the
okay to go back in. The interview was a fiasco, though. I was somewhat
prepared, but as usual when I enter the room something snaps. I just can't
play that game. I sounded like someone from Dumb and Dumber. It
was ludicrous. I'm sure that everyone including me was wondering why I
was even there. So, here I am in the library terminal room. Well, that
only serves as a poor segue to the gym segment. I went there right after
my interview still dressed in my interview duds and wearing my shades.
I wish I wore the shades during the interview. It probably would have helped.
The Bull and the Bishop went to Yalda's step class.
I set my step up but decided not to go. After the class, the Bishop came
out and asked me if The Bull was out on a date on Friday. I didn't know.
Apparently, the Bishop spotted The Bull or someone who looked like The
Bull out on a date. He said that he asked The Bull about this but he denied
it. I told the Bishop that as far as I knew The Bull was after Coleena,
one of the aerobics instructors. Since Monday night football at Big Don's
was canceled, I knew The Bull would be taking Coleena's step class using
the same rookie maneuver that he used on Tammy. As I walked into the aerobics
room, I saw The Bull standing there as Yalda and Coleena were talking.
I told Yalda that I was sorry that I missed her class, and Yalda said she
was going to do Coleena's class. I asked Coleena what was wrong and she
said that she had walking pneumonia. I told her, "Well, I have something
that will brighten you up. I heard that you have a secret admirer in your
class." She laughed and asked who it was. I didn't tell her but I think
she already knew. The Bull followed her out to her car and kept talking
to her. I wanted to tell him to let baby go home already. Trying to ask
her out when she is sick is just a shade stupid. The Bull is about ready
to lose his title again. The Bishop caught a ride with Nicole, the babe
that The Bull went out with once. The whole situation is reminiscent of
Musical Chairs except I'm always the one left standing.
There is a major flirting session going on in front
of me as some babe is helping a guy log on. I think he was trying to log
on his AIX account and access the Net by typing in "AOL." Me ... I'm live
here at the library terminal room, and I'm on my way outta here! Not a
minute too soon, I might add.
You know, I've gotten further and further away
from my monastic inclinations. Maybe I shouldn't become a monk. But then
I would have to become a janitor. I could become a postal worker, but I
would have the tendency to go "postal" as the joke goes. So what happens
when a janitor goes berserk? Does he go "janitorial"? It just doesn't sound
right. Since we are kind of near the subject of mail, I can segue right
into the topic of e-mail. There is always a lot of confusion at the General
Delivery e-Mailbox here at LoserNet headquarters (aka the Roach Motel).
Topics of discussion range from Recreational Uses of NyQuil to Janitor
Goes Berserk! ... well, maybe. One person has been so kind as to write
some very interesting and lengthy discourses. It really wasn't until sometime
yesterday, though, that for some reason a strange feeling overcame me.
I realized that I was reading something from a real person in a faraway
place (not that I thought that this person wasn't real). Maybe my mind
is ready to go out to lunch, I don't know. But, it's like reading the stuff
here. Now if I read it, I know the clown that wrote it is real because
that clown is me. But sometimes when one reads something from someone else,
it is not always explicitly apparent that there is a real person behind
it. I think what struck me was the haunting theme of loneliness that made
me rethink and reassess even the foolish words of my own reply. It is as
though I have vicariously experienced what I read. Maybe I really have
been out to lunch. Maybe the human experience has become one big joke,
and I foolishly think that I am going to be the one to deliver the punchline!
Who the hell am I kidding? Those of us who live in a kind of fairy tale
world of gym babes, pacing neighbors, "duck" tape, and the like never need
experience hurt or pain because we are as two-dimensional as a bad sitcom
that never goes away. I guess that's what entertainment is about. But,
hey! That's why we (me and Ross Jeffries) are here!
Wednesday October 25
I got up earlier than The Idiots this morning.
It is amazing at how much door-slammin' goes on. I can only expect this
from a dumpy couple who wear matching clothes when they go on their big
outing to the supermarket. I should get them a Richard Simmons tape. You
know, Richard Simmons is my role model. If there were more guys like Richard
Simmons at the gym, I'd feel a lot better. Speaking of the gym, I found
out that The Bull was out on a date on Friday night. Apparently, he met
baby in one of the Friday morning aerobic classes. That's funny. I thought
he told me he wasn't going to the gym on Fridays anymore. It makes sense.
He's been through all the primetime babes one way or the other. So, now
he needs to go in the mornings and at lunch to see if there is any new
talent he can troll. Apparently, the babe he went out with was drop-dead
gorgeous (like most of the babes The Bull attracts). But, when they went
to baby's place at the end of the evening, she was all over him like a
cheap suit. She was pulling his clothes off and trying to get him to stay.
The Bull thought she was too aggressive for him so he has to dump her.
I told The Bull that he should understand that there are so many babes
who are after him that the competition is rough. What else can they do?
The problem, I think, is that these babes should not try to usurp The Bull's
masculinity. Baby crossed the line. Ironically, with other babes like Tammy
and Coleena, The Bull is like a lost dog. Me, I don't get it. I probably
should e-mail Ross Jeffries and see if he could do a case study on The
Bull. The Bull is planning to date Nicole again and now he wants to try
to juggle about three babes at the same time. This man is a legend.
On a lighter note, I ran into Steph and I asked
her when she, my homey Tom, and I were going to do coffee to catch up on
old times (we all used to work together when I once had a job). Apparently,
since Tom is interested in her and the feeling is not mutual, it is going
to be hard for us to get together. That's something, isn't it? But, I may
help her set up her computer and get her AIX account going. Well, I'm an
eunuch and that's what eunuchs are good for. Steph also goes to the gym
so she has been a double agent for me at times. Well, hey! You never know
when you need a double agent especially when people suspect you are an
ex-con! Well, I'm off to the library, but I won't be in the terminal room
tonight. I'm going to disappear in the stacks.
I heard that my old buddy Bart was in town last
week. I did not get a chance to run into him, however. We go back a long
way to the times of the Homer Notebook. Last I heard, he was in Las Vegas.
Bart used to go to the gym, too. Seems like everyone in here is somehow
tied to the gym! I remember one time when the gym sponsored a Model Mugging
class. It was full of babes since these classes are designed for babes.
It was open to everyone, so Bart and I decided to watch the festivities.
The opening segment was somber and the presenters (all women) were discussing
the issue of rape and date rape. It was about this time that the gym "owner"
came in making a lot of noise and walking bowlegged while eating a banana.
I don't know if there was any symbolism attached to that or not. The demonstrations
began. The only other guy in there aside from the gym
"owner", Bart and myself was the so-called mugger. He had a lot of
protective clothing and a big head mask that made him look like Big Foot
(not my neighbor). Actual students of the class were doing the demos, and
the audience (babes) was encouraged to cheer and yell "9-1-1" whenever
the mugger was immobilized. The mugger, at one point, had to recite some
crude lines in order to elicit a sense of realism. The gym "owner" burst
out laughing, no doubt because of his own close familiarity with those
lines. All the babes turned around and looked. Bart looked at me and said,
"I sure hope they (the babes) aren't going to take it out on the two eunuchs
(us) in the back." The babes really got into it. Some other guys wandered
in, saw this and left immediately. Strange how Ross Jeffries is training
guys in the art of seduction (or skinnin') and the babes are learning the
art of immobilization. There was also a scenario about what to do when
a boyfriend or husband wants to do the wild thing and baby doesn't. Needless
to say, it resulted in another immobilization. Then, more cheers and "9-1-1."
Thursday October 26
|You can tell that Wednesdays are slow for the
ol' eunuch. I wonder if I'll see Naomi today. She was in a class I took
over a year ago. I remember when I went to see the professor because he
wanted to talk to me about publishing. Somewhere in the discussion, he
asked if I had a babe. I said no. "So, what do you think about Naomi?"
he asked. I told him that from what I could tell she was a nice person.
I should have told him that I was a monk. So, there I was in the prof's
office talking about Naomi for some reason. There's no escaping the babe
situation. Coincidentally, I still see baby around these days, and it turns
out that she is a nice babe. I bet you thought that I was trying to break
out of the ranks, didn't you? Well, hey! I'm an eunuch! Baby talked to
me a few times, but as you know the eunuch-like behavior does not allow
me to respond with sentences longer than one word. She would have been
better off trying to talk to a Coke machine! And in true Willard Scott
fashion, I'd like to thank email@example.com for writing in!
||"So, what do you
think about Naomi?" he asked.
Well, it almost the end of the month, and it's
about time I rehearse my schpiel for my creditors ... "Well, yes, I know
that I haven't made a single payment on that $30,000 loan but I'm going
through a bereavement." My bereavement is the fact that I have to pay to
live here at the Roach Motel. BigFoottm
finally came back, but he has been very quiet. No stomping around. No tube-watching.
Has he got a bout of the flu or what?
Friday October 27
I haven't seen the Cardinal or Matt at the gym
now for over a week either. What is going on? You know, that Matt is something.
A while back, Matt used to always find some babe to be his workout partner.
Now Matt is a married man, mind you, but his whole purpose, he told me,
was to help set up the babes. I remember two Summers ago, Matt was working
out with a babe named Amy. We all ended up taking the step class, and after
class, Matt told me that he was going to have a get together at his place.
I asked who was going to be there. Anybody that wants to come, he said.
So I arrived fashionably late, yet I was the only one there (Matt's wife
was on a vacation for a week). So, I got a tour of the palatial manor,
and then I ended up chopping the vegetables for the salad. I began to wonder
what was going on and asked him again about who was coming. Just then,
the doorbell rang. It was Amy and her roommate. Then, it dawned on me exactly
what was going on. Matt gave Darcy a tour of the palatial manor and Amy
stayed and talked to me while I was chopping the vegetables. As I was chopping
away, I happened to look up at Amy and saw those blue eyes along with her
long, brunette hair. She was all dolled up. I quickly went into my prototype
version of the eunuch-like behavior (I did not have it down to a science
like I do today). I almost chopped a finger off with the knife I was using.
Later, Matt was trying to give me some dating pointers. I told him that
I was a monk. It was pretty obvious by now what he was up to. But, you
know, that Amy was a nice babe and she was a real babe. Whew! She moved
out of the area, but she has visited a few times. Yep, after that I decided
I'm going to be Matt's boy. In life, you have to be somebody's boy. What
I really want to be is the Seinfeld of the Web. I don't think it's working,
though. I'm not even close to being the Paul Schaffer of the Web. Woe is
I got my rejection note from the Pocket Protector
Group (PPG) over at the County. It said that my "rating by a competitive
review board (Pocket Protector Group) was below the required standard."
Baaha! Ha! Ha! Give me a break! Those three fossils couldn't fight their
way out of a wet paper bag! Sometimes I wish I was somebody. Then, I would
go over to those idiots in the Pocket Protector Group and have them shine
my shoes. Jees!
No earth-shaking events at the gym today, although
both the Cardinal and Matt were there. The Cardinal has claimed that he
is switching over to the other gym in town. Matt said that if that's true,
he's going, too. I'm Matt's boy, so I have to go. All I know is that it's
a good thing I didn't waste my time sending out thank you letters to the
Pocket Protector Group (PPG). I should thank those fools personally by
unloading the clip in my nine!
The Santa Anas were blowing again last night and
the temperature was fairly warm. It could be the beginning of another heat
wave. As I was walking to the library last night and enjoying the weather,
I noticed a wanted poster on one of the boards. I looked at it carefully
and realized that there was a manhunt in progress for a rapist. What was
most shocking was that the crummy composite drawing looked exactly like
me! No wonder those cops have been keeping their eye on me at the gym.
What is even worse is that the suspect is considered dangerous. And, you
know these overzealous cops are just itching for some action. If I disappear
from here, you can only guess what will happen. Let's see now ...
Saturday October 28
The Interrogation. I am taken downtown and given the Rodney King
"Twenty-One Baton" welcome. Then, I am thrown in Interrogation. Two cops
come in. Both look like they watch Homicide religiously. Only one
does the talking.
"Why did you do it?" he bellows.
"I didn't do anything," I reply.
"WE know you did it. YOU know you did it. So save us all the trouble
and confess," he says, feigning logic.
"How many times do I have to tell you. I didn't do it. I'm a monk,"
(Lots of laughter) "You don't look like a monk to me. Say ... what's
with those sunglasses anyway?" he mutters while stroking his chin.
"I give up," I say as I throw my hands in the air.
"That's it! We have a confession! Book'em Danno!"
"Say what? Hey, wait a minute ..."
Fortunately, nothing has happened yet. You know what's
responsible for this. Yep, it's the sinister force! Once again, it is toying
with the sanity of the ol' eunuch! I may have to get a disguise kit. It's
a good thing I saw The Fugitive twice! I went to the gym later,
but was in no mood to work out. It just turned into a social hour. Everyone
got a laugh out of my possible upcoming fugitive role. I told them I was
looking in advance for someone to post bail for me. It is a funny situation,
but I have a very odd feeling that the impossible might happen. Call it
intuition or whatever, but it's a strong feeling. I just need to maintain
a low profile for a while. And, thanks to firstname.lastname@example.org for writing
manhunt continues for my clone. It seems that there were two separate incidents,
and the town is canvassed with two different wanted posters. Oddly, the
second composite did not look like my clone. Doesn't this remind you of
that Star Trek: TNG episode in which Data discovered he had a twin
brother, Lor (I call him Evil Data)? Well, now there's me ... Eunuch, and
there's my clone ... Evil Eunuch. What's worse is that Halloween is just
around the coroner. I just misspelled "corner" as "coroner"! Is that an
omen or what? Evil Eunuch would have a field day! That does it! I have
to launch my own manhunt. Jees!
Sunday October 29
My homey Tom and I ended up at Starbuck's last
night. He mentioned that the weatherman's babe is now engaged. Evidently
the weatherman made the announcement on the morning news this week. (Wasn't
she engaged to another guy earlier this year?) I wonder if The Bull knows
about this. Well, The Bull will have his hands full because Tam is coming
back. He says he "hates" her, but when he sees Tam he will be the proverbial
bull charging to the slaughter. Well, another Saturday night is here and
the ol' planner is jam-packed with activities. You know, 41-year-old virgins
are in demand in the local social circles! Let's see ... AutoMall ... Wherehouse
... Barnes & Noble. Decisions, decisions. Man, I got it goin' on! For
the life of me, I just don't know how I pack it all into one day. You know
what I mean? I think I should just go ahead and schedule a lobotomy already.
The '96 models are not in yet! Just kidding! No,
I was not at the AutoMall, although it is a great place for eunuchs to
hang out (all the neighbors will think you got it goin' on because you're
not home, and no one will see you at the AutoMall so no one knows where
you were). I ended up hanging out at the Hermitage with my homey Manuel.
We got to see a great Ali Bijan B-movie ("B" as in babes) on Cinemax. It
was so great that I can't remember the title. If I wasn't going to become
a monk, I think I would produce these kinds of B-movies. All there is to
these movies is a bunch of babes running around in their birthday suits
(although Ali tried to put some whack plot in there). I say cut out the
plot completely. These are movies for guys with no life. They don't want
to see some nonsense about drug smuggling acted out poorly, I might add,
by Ali and some of his friends. They want to see babes in their birthday
suits! My interests are strictly business. Well, hey! I'm an eunuch! I
asked Manuel what kind of costume he was going to wear for Halloween. "I'm
going as myself," he replied. "What kind of costume is that?" I asked.
"Can't you tell? I'm going as a hermit."
Monday October 30
The highlight of today was ironing. Yes, ironing.
I do that like once every year, coincidentally about the number of times
I get an interview. Ironing is a very frustrating experience for an eunuch.
I think my answer to that will be to purchase one of those 1970s double-knit
leisure suits. At least when I get rejected, I can blame it on the suit.
I decided not to go to the gym today. I think that place is straining my
brain. I haven't done any of the aerobics classes for almost two weeks.
All I have been doing is the meathead stuff. It's going to be real fun
when I start up again next week. Can you imagine the pain I will be in?
Speaking of the gym, one of the guys told me that there was a former monk
that went there for a while. Apparently, he retired from his monastic duties,
joined the gym, and went babe crazy. He eventually found a babe and no
one has seen him since. The moral of the story ... don't watch too many
Ali Bijan B-movies!
It's too bad I don't need to paint my little shoebox
here at the Roach Motel, because then I could sit and watch the paint dry.
Of course, any derived spiritual gratification would be offset by the door-slammin'
soirée courtesy The Idiots Next Door. It makes me wonder where they
met (probably in the food section at CostCo). It also makes me miss Loser.
You know, I saw Loser the other day taking out his trash. He looked a little
peaked. He has also gained a little weight. I bet it's the babe situation.
I think he's realized that not even pacing can help alleviate the babe
situation. I wonder if Loser is going out Trick or Treatin' tomorrow. Sheesh!
I still haven't located a monk robe. What is the ol' virgin going to do?
You know, I haven't gone Trick or Treatin' since the days of the Homer
Notebook. I dressed up as Anton Jackson, the drunk, homeless guy on In
Living Color. I even made a replica of that stupid jar Anton carried
around. I gave the gym a laugh by going to the aerobics class in costume.
Alas, I should have kept that outfit (and the jar) to use everyday.
Sinister Force Day 1995
I had another Unix-Talk session with a babe at
12:30am. She is the third babe to initiate that with the ol' eunuch on
the cluster. She started off with the usual Ascii phone sex. She asked
if I wanted to go over to her place for a "fun time." I asked how she could
be sure I wasn't that psycho clone of mine, Evil Eunuch. Then, she told
me that one of the victims was her neighbor. For the life of me, none of
this made sense. Her neighbor was viciously attacked by my clone, and now
she is on the computer Unix-Talking sex! I really don't know if some of
these people can distinguish between fantasy and reality. Speaking of reality,
there appears to be a lot of activity in some of the other e-journals on
the Web. Is it ratings week already? Apparently, there was a hot e-mail
romance with the long-awaited meeting of the e-mail lovebirds occurring
this past weekend, which naturally resulted in consummated passion. What
else could you expect from e-journals of people who have a life? You won't
find that here at LoserNet! We are committed to real people, people with
no life, and there are a lot of us out there!
No costume, no Trick or Treatin', no candy, no
parties, no excitement, no fun, and no life. That about sums up the big
Sinister Force Day festivities here at the Roach Motel. Over in the Roach
Motel East and the Bottoms, that's another story. There are actual signs
of sentient life. Here at the Roach Motel ... well, you already know the
quality of people that comprise the inmates, of which I am one. I doubt
that The Idiots are going out Trick or Treatin'. If they were, what would
they go as? Maybe they could go as his and her matching refrigerators.
I should have invited all my fellow inmates over. Then, we could sit in
a circle around my modem and watch the LEDs flash while I download some
files. Whoa! I don't know if they could stand that much excitement! I know
I couldn't! Maybe that's not such a good idea. Hmmmm. Well, I could take
the suggestion from email@example.com and change "an eunuch" to "a
eunuch" in all of these files. You know, when one is a 41-year-old virgin,
the sky's the limit when it comes to fun activities. I could cut up some
plastic bags and put them over my head. Just kidding! I can take the plastic
and some "duck" tape and affix the plastic where my windows used to be
on my six-four. Well, hey! The rainy season is just around the corner!
Let me not forget to mention that the Sinister Force Day festivities commenced
last night when that babe from the other night initiated another Unix-Talk
session with the ol' eunuch. Baby wanted to know how old the ol' virgin
was. Does it matter? Babes seem to get really flustered, though, if they
don't get an answer. I remember that I had a similar discussion with Clare
from the Homer Notebook days ...
More To Come!
Scenario: We were at the 7-11, having a nice, cool beverage.
We rode our bikes to the gym to work out, and were now on our way home.
We sat outside on the ledge below the windows. We were talking about something
mundane when out of the blue ...
"How old are you?"
That was four years ago. Actually, I thought it was
a great answer. Little did I know that it would be the source of inspiration
for this piece of work. I told my homey (then one of my roommates) Skip
about that conversation and he was rolling on the floor. Apparently, babes
don't find much humor in that, though. Well, the festivities continue on
this Sinister Force Day. A day like today requires a special meal. So,
in celebration, I had to break out the larger $1.09 can of Bush's baked
beans. It was literally a feast! To top it all off, I walked down to that
hub of activity, Thrifty Drugs, and bought a double-scoop ice cream cone.
Am I livin' large or what? All around me were people with a life, dressed
up in their costumes and going partying. That only means one thing! Yep,
tonight is a good night for me to take the K-Mart all-in-one apart and
clean the dust out of it. Maybe I should clean my razor, too. If I keep
coming up with this kind of excitement, then someone is going to have to
prescribe some Demerol for me. Well, that's it for the pathetic Sinister
Force Day special! Whew!
"Why do you want to know?" I said, answering a question with a question.
"I just want to know," she replied.
"Why do you need to know that?" I asked.
"Oh. No reason. So, how old are you?" she asked again.
"I'm old enough to drive," I replied.
"You're not going to tell me, are you? Why is this such a big deal?"
she asked rhetorically, sounding perturbed.
"Okay. Okay. I'm a 41-year-old virgin."
Continue the adventure now ... move on to November!
The Return of the 41-Year-Old Virgin
41-Year-Old Virgin ... Tralfaz
The Bull ... Himself
The Bishop ... Himself
The Cardinal ... Himself
And a cast of thousands.
Original Soundtrack by Foolboy-G
Presented by 41-Year-Old Virgin/Partners in association with JumpStart
© Copyright 1995 by the 41-Year-Old Virgin.
LoserNettm Love It, or Lose It.