Monday July 1, 1996

I continued to work on baby's computer. I still could not find the problem. I also tried to interface an archaic printer to the computer, but there was no driver installed for it. I really began looking more like a putz rather than a true computer nerd. So, I returned to the tube room with my beloved computer. The Kid did not show up today. I felt like a true loser. I went out by the pool later to read some monk materials since it was extremely warm outside. The rest of the day was pretty much a carbon copy of previous days. Gym time. Festival of the Baked beans. We went shopping at Fred Meyer to see if I could find an old man hat more fitting of my geriatric image. Later, we made a late night walk around the parking lot.

Today was much cooler than the last few days. There were sporadic drizzles, too. I returned to the TV room early because baby was busy on-line. The Kid came in to watch the tube. Someone snaked the remote, much to his chagrin. Perhaps the staff is trying to wean him off of the tube. I have decided to wean myself of the Net. I'm off to a good start since I have no access. I will continue the journals, but only if I have a readership. In retrospect, I cannot believe the amount of time I have spent on the Net in the last year or so. I must admit that the Net has helped to preserve my sanity, but only at the expense of having a life. Addictions are very difficult to subdue. I should know. I have also decided to wean myself of coffee. The highlight of my day back at the Roach Motel was logging on and having a pot of coffee made in my broken French Press. Both are now ancient history. Every time I divest another addiction, I go through a type of depression. It is not sadness. It is more like a void. Addictions, like routines, help alleviate boredom. Why has life gotten so boring? And, why do we always need to find something to occupy our time?
 

I read somewhere that one's head can explode just like in Scanners. Yep, it's true! Apparently, that is what happened to chess player, Nikolai Titov. He was thinking too much, or that is what Dr. Anatoly Martinenko thinks. Maybe it is he who is thinking too much. According to Doc Martin (not the shoe), too much brain activity may cause brain overload and then the head explodes. Imbeciles who are sans brains (e.g., brain donors) need not worry. My concern, however, is what would happen if the oversized cranium exploded. That would mean the end of the journal for sure. Alas, maybe I should become a brain donor.

...and then the head explodes.


Baby and I had another misunderstanding, which almost prompted my dismissal. I was about ready to pack it all up in my six-four and hit the trail again. Fortunately, we bought a Tombstone pizza for a late dinner at midnight. That broke the ice. We continued our discussion when we took another one-hour stroll through the parking lot. Things seem to have worked themselves out. Guys and babes have a lot of differences. When there are issues that bother a guy, he usually becomes very quiet and ruminates on them. Babes interpret this as an affront to them. They take it personally and that's when things get out of hand. They want to know what's wrong. The guys won't tell them because, basically, they are in pouting mode. All in all, I am happy that things have worked out.

It is almost the 4th of July. Time is flying, and I am still a putz! Baby took me to Washington Park to see the Japanese Gardens and the Rose Gardens. That was quite an interesting and tranquil experience. We spent several hours looking around. I noticed that some parts of the park looked and felt very similar to areas in Hawai'i such as Manoa Valley, the Nu'uanu Pali and Tantalus. We went to the gym after that. Baby prepared a very nice dinner to supplement the good workout we had. I don't think that we'll be eating Tombstone pizza again after last night, though. There's a reason it's called Tombstone!

Baby and I got up late today. Well, hey! It's a holiday! I worked on my six-five. I screwed up the brakes during transport and I needed to fix them. After I finished that project, I went to the gym with baby for an early workout. Later, we opted to do a bike ride. Baby and I hit the trail, and she immediately left me in the dust. I was huffing and puffing. I thought I was going to fall over. Fortunately, there were no shower curtain rods out on the trail for me to fall on. I was demoralized. Sheesh! We ended up not going anywhere for any 4th of July festivities, but that's the way I like it. Give me a dark corner, a fluorescent lamp and my beloved computer over that any day. And, guess what we ate for dinner tonight? Yep, we had the Festival of the Baked Beans again!

The sky was clear and blue, but it was mostly a cool day with a moderate breeze. That reminded me of Convalescent City. Only the rolling hills and the twin peaks were missing ... well, that and The Bull! I noticed that both Mel Tormé and Ice-T will be playing in Portland this month. However, I have divested myself of rap music, so my musical repertoire is limited. I may have to go see Mel. I am sure that there will not be any bottle-throwing fans ripping their clothes off and jumping on-stage to pay homage to Mel. Baby ran a few errands and returned to sit out at the pool with her friend Kathleen. I stayed in and worked on the manuscript. I pulled the blinds down so I would not be exposed to even one photon of sunlight. Later, I went down to the tube room with my computer to add diversity to my already exciting day. I continued on the manuscript. The remote control has still not been returned, but one of the staff people turned the tube on for the Kid and one of his buddies. At least I wasn't treated to a channel surfing extravaganza. Baby and I went to the gym early. I had put my gym shorts on backwards. Baby pointed that out to me. She first thought that I was trying to make a statement. In actuality, this was because of my increasing senility. I put my shorts on correctly before we left. Can you imagine the humiliation I would have to endure if I went to the gym with my shorts on backwards? When we came home, baby took a nap and I sat up in a coma. We then partook of the Festival of the Baked Beans. Baby went to the clubhouse to do a little more cardio. I lapsed into a coma. Later, we went shopping at Safeway and took a leisurely walk around the parking lot. Someone's kitty followed us all the way around the loop. When we returned to the spot we initially saw kitty, he plopped down under his owner's car. Upon returning home, baby logged on and I sat up in a coma again.

You know, babes know how to toy with guys. They know exactly what to do to train guys to essentially become stuffed animals. I call this the Teddy Bear Effect. It's easy to see how it works. Babes will inundate Teddy with a bunch of things. Then, they will shuffle the order of those things around like some kind of shell game. After this process is repeated a number of times in the course of a few hours, the guy is left bewildered and disarmed. He has only one recourse ... agree with everything. If Teddy decides to rebel, then he is a jerk. It is the law of the land. All I can say is bring on the Tombstone ... Tombstone pizza, that is!

Life can be dumb or even dumber. Take a look at the economy. Analyst are fearing inflation rates will rise because of lower unemployment. Thus, the stock market made a moderate correction. The economy is not designed with the small man in mind. Large investors want an economy that basically involves free labor. If only those pesky employees would work for free, they lament. When that doesn't happen, they pout and sell shares. Employees want more income. When they get it, interest rates rise so they will be compelled to save. What if one is a peon employee with token stock options? Yep, double jeopardy!

 Baby and I went to the clubhouse for Fodgers and doughnuts. This time there were no doughnuts. I had to go back and make some Pop Tarts to choke down with my Fodgers. Baby went out by the pool since it was a nice sunny day. I came back to work on the manuscript. Baby returned an hour later and suggested that we go on a walking tour of Portland. We drove into Portland and spent the rest of the day seeing the sites. We passed through the Saturday Market and also the Waterfront Blues Festival. We also walked to Burger King so I could have a Whopper (my way, of course). We came back and went to the gym for a quick workout. Somehow, baby and I had another disagreement. This time it was about my tidiness. I lost it, and I was once again ready to pack it up. Fortunately, things worked themselves out. Whew! We had a nice BBQ Salmon Steak dinner, and then we were off to the AutoMall!

There actually were some Fodgers and doughnuts left when baby and I went down to the clubhouse. Actually, baby ended up making the Fodgers because someone forgot to make some this morning. Baby also put out one of the remaining loaves of the Amish Crisco Friendship Bread. We visited the Abbey of Mt. Angel monastery today. Mt. Angel is about 35 minutes south of Portland. You know, you can always tell when a Californian indicates distance ... by time. The monastery proved to be interesting, however I did not spot one monk anywhere. Where were they? On the way back, we stopped off at Incredible Universe, an electronics superstore. I had to peruse the computer section, naturally. I felt revitalized. We went to the gym for a short workout. I believe baby and I almost had another incident at the gym. When we returned home, baby logged on. I reflected on this pathetic life.

I have had a lot of thoughts running through my head recently. That has made it difficult for me to keep one train of thought. I find that this situation leaves me with little to say. I multiplex the variety of topics that I work on, so no one topic is complete at any time. Sometimes I wonder if I will just become a total mute. Conversations around me seem more like the ambient buzz of insects, and I find little need to discuss much these days. Perhaps I should have remained a monk in Convalescent City. I have had the luxury of spending many days in solitude and isolation without ever having to explain myself. I really am not sure about what I am doing or where I should be, for that matter. It seems that I never want to be where I am. However, I will say that I am glad that some of my friends have written back. Caroll, for one, wrote and reminisced about the weekend Bonnie and I met her in Salinas to experience the "spirit of Steinbeck." Big John wrote to tell about the latest Homicide episodes, amongst other things. Sheesh!

The Oregon heatwave continues! It seemed like a nice day for the most part, until baby and I returned from the gym. We had yet another misunderstanding. I erupted in senseless computer babble. I was convinced that our friendship would be in jeopardy if I stayed here any longer, if it wasn't already. I look back at my life and I wonder why I do the foolish things I do. Oftentimes, I know better. Brain donors have a good excuse for stupidity. I do not. Yet, I continue to repeat the same mistakes over and over again like Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day. Perhaps I had a premonition when I named this segment the Journey to Nowhere, for that is where I have gone. And, that is where I will return.

Most of the day for baby and I was spent in strained silence. We finally reconciled late in the afternoon. The whole incident was foolish. We have both been stressed over a variety of personal situations, but none that should merit jeopardizing our friendship. We went to the gym and had a nice workout. Then, we came home for a nice Salmon Steak dinner. We were both exhausted from the sleepless night. I had a hard time sleeping because I should not have let the sun set with me in a provoked state.

I am beginning to see why guys and babes have so much trouble getting along. Well, hey! Babes are from Venus, men are idiots! Guys and babes have so many differences but these shouldn't be liabilities. They should be complementary. People quickly throw in the towel or dish out the walking papers. Why is it so hard to swallow one's pride and just apologize, regardless of who is right or wrong? Finding fault is too easy. Just point a finger and blame. I was too quick to surmise that these incidents were indicators of trouble. They are just adjustments that we have to make to compensate for the differences in our personalities. The moral of the story ... the good and the bad must be accepted in order for one to learn about another person.

Baby woke up with shoulder pains, so I have been helping out as the massage boy. She probably overdid it at the gym. As baby's workout partner, I will need to be more aware. As dumb as a meathead workout is, it can still cause severe injuries. Baby ran some errands, and I finally broke down and used Xmodem to upload this journal. I hope to keep the journal more current and don't reduce the readership to zero. Sheesh! Baby and I sat in the hottub this afternoon instead of going to the gym. We then went to a concert at the Washington Park Zoo Amphitheater in Portland. The world famous Malhathini and the Mahotella Queens were playing. We arrived late and found a nice spot but the band was out of view. The place was packed and the evening was very warm. Baby prepared a very nice picnic dinner. We ate, listened to the music, and talked. After the concert, we returned home. We left for the gym at 10pm. Later, baby logged on and I went into a coma until it was time for our late night walk. We walked around the parking lot, eating the cherries and launching the seeds as projectiles. Sheesh!

Baby and I did not get to sleep until about 3am because we were reading the competitor's journals. We got up late, and baby suggested that we go to the beach. She prepared a picnic lunch and we left. Along the way, we had an innocuous discussion that somehow became an emotional tirade over some stupid semiconductor firm whose presence is well known in Oregon. The conversation degraded further as did the day. The trip to Cannon Beach was a silent one. We stopped to see the world's largest Sitka Spruce tree. When we got to the beach, the situation got really out of hand. Things that were said will not be included here because they will only serve to facilitate the hurt we both felt. We spent the rest of the afternoon separately. Baby later found me at the Post Office filling out my cancel forwarding request. We departed the beach and drove through Ecola Park. Overall, the coast was pretty. It surprised me that it looked similar to Pismo Beach. The mountain ranges which separate the coast from the inland areas were extremely pretty. When we arrived back here, I immediately packed up my six-four. As I was tying up the loose ends, baby came over to talk. We ended up talking most of the night in the dark. We had a late dinner and went to Safeway to buy some Starbuck's ice cream. We came back and ate the ice cream and continued our talk.

I was numbed by the whole experience earlier today. The words that were hurled callously about echoed in my head. Why had it come to this again? Even though we renewed our lines of communication, I was totally confused. I decided to put off my trip back to California until morning.

My possessions still remain packed in the six-four as I contemplate what I should do. In the meantime, baby and I went down to the clubhouse and snaked some Fodgers from the office. Later, baby dropped me off at Powell's City of Books since she had an appointment in Portland. I spent an hour in the computer section. I found out that The Loser Living Upstairs was listed in the 1996-1997 Microsoft Internet Directory! After that, it was gym time. Baby made a nice dinner later and the houseboy did the houseboy chores.

Moms wrote and mentioned that Big Don had called on the 4th of July. He and his family were staying at the Prince Kuhio Hotel in Honolulu. He thought that I had moved back there already. Well, surprise, surprise! I'm sure that moms told him that I was in Oregon. The gym gang will have a field day with that!

By the time I got to the clubhouse this morning, the doughnuts were gone. Thank goodness there was an ample supply of Fodgers. All my possessions still remain in the six-four as my departure remains in uncertainty. Baby laid out by the pool for a while. I worked on the proposal package for the manuscript and for The Loser Living Upstairs. Baby had a meeting to chair at The Habit at 3pm so I accompanied her. The Habit is a small, rustic coffee place in Portland. There were computer terminals (read: Internet café) lined along the walls and only two small tables in the center. I sat on the couch next to the magazine rack and read while baby conducted her meeting. There were several computer nerds logged on during that time. It was extremely hot since the first major heatwave hit today. So, we did not make it to the gym. We waited until it cooled off enough for us to go down to work out in the small gym in the clubhouse. We came back and had the Festival of the Baked Beans. Finally, we went to Safeway at midnight. When it comes to excitement, I wrote the book!

Fodgers (and no doughnuts)! Heatwave! Xmodem! Starbuck's Frappuccinos! Gym time! Hemorrhoids! That says it all! I also spent some time diagnosing the problem with the turn signal in baby's car. We had another late dinner, and then took a walk.

I have not been able to shave for a few days because my razor is packed in my suitcase which is packed under my six-five, both of which are packed in my six-four. Babes don't seem to like the three-day growth that real men have come to know and love. Actually, I am beginning to understand babes. They are like Xmodem. Sometimes it is easy to transfer just about any file of any size but, most times, it just locks up. Sheesh! Thus, it is always best to leave everything up to the babes. When babes ask a question, always remember that it is rhetorical. The details have already been worked out. Have you noticed how babes jump from one subject to the next sporadically during the course of a conversation? Have you heard two or more babes conversing? There is no way a guy could make heads or tails of what is going on. Babes talk this way with guys, too. Attempting to understand this beyond face value is futile. Most guys get frustrated and lose it. Lord knows, it is best for a guy to sit quietly and review his extensive software library in his head to prevent a tragic faüx pas.

I think I'm running out of topics to write about, not that I had many topics to begin with. I am devoid of gym antics and dumb neighbors. Nothing idiotic has been occurring here as did in the days that I lived in the Roach Motel. With the exception that I have to come up with mucho dinero in less than two months, this pathetic life of mine has been stable. Too stable. My nerves are not as shot as they used to be. I'm not sure if I like it this way. Think about it ... we need (and love) to be surrounded by idiots. Without idiots, everything fades to boredom. Let's face it, brain donors give us a reason to live.

Even the gym here is just too calm. It is a nice gym with air conditioning and ceilings, too. The staff is nice, and the members are everyday people in for some exercise. There is no psycho gym "owner." There is no Bull of the Gym, no Cardinal and no Bishop. I'm starting to feel my age now. Next thing you know, I'll have a nine-to-five job! Sheesh! We can't have that! I was meant to be a loser. My job is to make others feel like winners. Speaking of winners, I have persuaded baby to start reading out loud the competitor's journal, much to her chagrin. Well, hey! I need to see how the other 95 percent live!

When baby and I took our late night walk last night (with a bag of cherries), she suddenly lowered her voice to a whisper. I thought that she was concocting some kind of diabolical plan. As it turns out, the sinister nature of the plan was to snake some petunias from the flower bed near the driveway. Today, baby and I were discussing bad spit-swapping. Apparently, many guys do not know how to swap spit properly. Bad spit-swapping is reminiscent of a Shop Vac which was recently used to vacuum up water-soaked carpets. This is all news to me as I am a boy in the army!

I rearranged my things in my six-four. I can now access my suitcase easier. I will probably leave everything, including my six-five, in there for the duration of my stay. I don't know why I have that junk. There is a huge Goodwill outlet in Portland. I may just donate everything already. Sheesh! The heatwave has ended for now. All I want to do is make a killing in the stock market when it recovers. I have about $3 to invest. If I can double that dough, I will get a couple of Starbuck's Frappuccinos for me and baby!

The rains started up again, making me homesick for Cali. Baby logged on early this morning and I was left to my own devices. Since coming here to Oregon, my access to the Net has been limited. To me, this has been a blessing in disguise. I have spent far too much time on the Net in the past year or so. As I watched baby sitting, glued to the screen of her computer, I could not help but see images of the oversized lavahead doing the same. When I see her reading and laughing at each piece of e-mail, it reminded me of all the people I saw in the Lab doing the same. E-mail has never been a big thing with me. I was also never interested in the redundant humor snippets that circulate in e-mail forever. I do appreciate hearing from readers, though. The Web has never done much for me. It has become a wasteland of which this site is one of perpetrators. Garbage in, garbage out. I can, however, thank the Net for keeping me out of trouble. Yet, as a monk, how much trouble could I get into? The Net has come and gone for me. For now, I want to continue this site but I don't want to be swept into the obsessive riptide ever again.

I have been extremely worn out lately, although fatigue is more like it. Is it iron-poor, tired blood? Is it because I haven't had any Pop Tarts in over a week? Is it the grueling workouts at the gym? Or, is it because of baby? Babes can really wear out a guy. Babes do not realize that guys can only move in one direction at any one moment. This can be likened to abruptly changing the course of a large tanker, which may cause severe strain on the hull and ultimately snap it like a twig! Really? Not really, but it sounded like a good analogy anyway. And, that is not even considering the wild thing! Babes don't realize that even studs cannot keep going all day. Computer nerds are even further behind. What do I know? I could be talking through my hat. Well, hey! I'm an old fossil (and eunuch)!

The rains continued through today. Baby had to work. I took care of some mundane tasks. Summer is passing by quickly ... far quicker than I expected. As usual, I have accomplished nothing. That seems to be my forté, as I have essentially done nothing in the 42 years of my paltry existence. I write this journal, one that is read by a very small and select audience. I enjoy writing but I am writing my own demise. I anticipate that a future chapter will be called, Having It My Way: The Burger King Years.
 

Have you noticed that people are adamant about having it their way? It's my way or the highway, they'll tell you in not so many words. Even if they say nothing, they assume that you will like their way of doing things. People who have lived by themselves for a long time exhibit this personality quirk. They become set in their ways because they are often not exposed to the sublime corrections of social contact. Sometimes altruism thinly veils egocentrism, too. Perhaps the real issue is one of span of control. We like to widen our sphere of influence, yet we do not admit it. After all, the people we like are the ones most similar to us. That brings me to the subject of the Burger King slogan. When I order a Whopper my way, say, with no mayo and onions, I feel empowered. I have told the corporate megaburger what to do. In reality, a Whopper is a Whopper. I can delete, but I cannot add or change. How about having a Whopper my way with a thick, tender charbroiled chicken fillet in place of the all-meat patty? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! So, is it really my way? Or, is it the highway?

When I order a Whopper my way, say, with no mayo and onions, I feel empowered.


I bought a couple of Safeway pizzas and had one for a snack before going to the gym. No, they weren't Tombstone (you know, the Tombstone pizza tasted better), but they were cheap! We tried to make it to the step class at the gym. It was already full when we got there. I was so demoralized that I couldn't do any cardio. I went to the tube room and watched the game. How about those Cubs, huh? When we got back, the Safeway pizza was having its way with me. Yuck!

I was in the tube lounge (TV room) yesterday with my computer when the Kid came by, clutching a box of assorted software that he said he found in the dumpster. He was trying to run them on the communal computer but he was missing a few disks. I guess there's a reason why they were in the dumpster. He asked if I wanted to try them out. I may have to take him under my wing and show him how to become a true computer nerd.

Baby drove to work out in Sandy. I stayed here and cleaned the oven. It was shimmering when I was done. I have a very fastidious and meticulous streak. I like things to look like new and operate flawlessly ... forever. That's why I don't own anything. I have found, however, that cheap and simple things last the longest (French Press not included). Look at how long my $4.99 clock (aka the Time Bomb) has lasted. Sheesh!

The rains have ceased, but it is still overcast outside. I read the paper in the tube lounge and realized that the stock market took off, unbeknownst to me. Well, so much for my making a killing with my $3 investment. Katie, one of baby's many neighbors, popped in the tube lounge when she saw me working on the computer. She knows that I am working on the manuscript. She is also an avid murder mystery fan. "Make sure there's lots of killing," she said smiling, while running her index finger like a knife lengthwise beneath her jaw. "It has to be in New York, or Washington DC. And, stalking ... lots of stalking." She used her right hand to pantomimic a phone. "Ring! Ring! Hello, anybody there? That sort of thing. I love that stalking." Little does she know that I could write that story all right, but from the viewpoint of an unwitting perpetrator!

We had yet another misunderstanding yesterday, but baby and I nipped it in the bud. I cringed at the thought of being called insensitive again or, even worse, how I fooled myself into thinking I've learned any lessons from my past. I don't think that I was cut out to be in a relationship. I'm better off being a monk. Everyone (myself included) carries excess baggage from the past. Unless people can go beyond all of that, they will always be triggered by events that are similar to the unfinished business of the past. I have tried to move on from the past because, frankly, I was tired of being shackled in a prison of my own making. I only have a short time left here. I want that time to be as pleasant as possible. Baby and I have no need to unload our old baggage upon each other because we will be returning to our old lives next month. You know, people always have expectations of others, no matter how much they say they don't. Interpersonal problems are usually the result of disappointment because those expectations weren't met. Feelings are hurt and resentment sets in. That is the Catch-22 which best explains why I refrain from getting too close to people. Baby has a few unresolved issues as do I. She has made several changes in her life recently, and I hope that I have helped to support those decisions. The gym has been one of those changes. In fact, baby has been much more zealous about workouts than the ol' lavahead. I hope that she will be able to keep moving in the right direction and not fall back to the old days once I have left.

I have essentially been living off of Pop Tarts for the last three days. Today, I had Pop Tarts and Fodgers. It is the pathetic life I am used to. I have been thinking about what I will do once I leave Oregon. I know that I will be heading back to Cali. What happens after that is a mystery to both you and I.

Yesterday, baby and I ended up going to the Good Guys superstore in Washington Square. It was a nerdfest for me. Then, it was gym time and Bush's baked beans for dinner. We wanted to watch a movie, so off to Hollywood Video we went. Babes always seem to want to rent those romance themes and guys always want shoot 'em ups. Why is that? We compromised and got Crimson Tide. Today, we got up late. There were doughnuts (and Fodgers) in the clubhouse for once. Baby had to go to a baby shower, so I ventured out in my six-four and went to Circuit City in Washington Square. I had lunch at Burger King (a Whopper my way, of course). It was beautiful and warm day out. The oversized lavahead was overheating because the ol' monk haircut has grown out. Sheesh!

I was completely worn out before we went to the gym, probably because I stuffed my face with doughnuts earlier. I was barely able to work out. Well, hey! I'm a computer nerd, not an athlete! I'm not into physical exertion. I get enough of a workout with my computer trackball. After the gym, I had to move my six-four because the parking lot is being resurfaced tomorrow. Since I moved it to a seedier location, I had to remove my six-five and my suitcase from it. Fortunately, baby helped me since my twigs were already fatigued. In return, I helped baby set up a log routine to track accesses to her Web pages. Of course, the night was not complete until we read aloud another installment from the competitor's journal.

I should mention something interesting I have observed. People here in Oregon seem, in general, to be a lot more courteous and friendly than people in Cali. However, there are always losers no matter where one goes. The Oregon landscape will probably change rapidly once the "boom town" phenomenon takes full effect. People up here are different in other respects, too. They do not have the lean, bronzed Baywatch look that I have grown accustomed to seeing. Even with the sun out, there has not been a babefest. I think it is safe to assume that Oregon would not appear in The Bull's atlas. Sheesh!

The heatwave was in full swing again. Baby had an appointment, so I was left to my own devices. I have been uninspired to do much. Perhaps that is a facet of my shiftless nature. I have not felt so fatigued in a long time. The challenges of life are becoming insurmountable. I just don't possess the tenacity to get ahead, no less survive, in modern society. I had a whole box of Pop Tarts for lunch. When baby returned, she wanted to go to the gym. I reluctantly went along. Even the gym has lost its appeal. Only the computer and the nightly reading of the competitor's journal have kept me from losing it.

Another hot day! Baby had to go to work, so guess what? Yep, I was left to my own devices. I went to Burger King for lunch. I ordered two Whoppers, my way. I parked under a tree, next to a Geo Metro. The rear of the Geo was packed solid with stuff. The front passenger seat was also full of stuff. On top of the pile was a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. As I ate my lunch in my six-four, I kept looking at the Geo. The owner finally came back. He sat in his Geo and ate his Whopper. I knew that everything he owned was in the Geo. Whether he was homeless or en route somewhere, I do not know. If I had not removed my things the other day, I would still have most of my possessions in my six-four. I could not help but recollect the days when both my homey Bart and I were homeless. In retrospect, the whole experience really wasn't that bad.

A couple of years ago, Caroll told me about a homeless guy named Gary whom she interviewed for a class project. I knew who she was talking about. Gary was once what people would call a productive member of society. Now, he just roams around collecting bottles and cans to cash in so he can buy a cup of coffee at CJ's. He had given up, Caroll said. He even inherited some dough and gave it away to his kids, choosing to continue in dereliction. As I sat in the tube lounge watching fifty people frolic in the small pool outside, I could see why Gary threw in the towel. Is this all a little more pocket change is worth?

Last night, baby and I took a step class at the gym (the first one I have taken since March). It was a grueling session. I was really hurtin' today! After working out, we were prepared to partake in the Festival of the Baked Beans. We had bought a supply of the large $1.09 size of Bush's baked beans for the week. After two spoonfuls, I discovered that the beans were extremely sweet. They tasted like some kind of candy. I almost lost it. We had eaten another can the night before, and that one was okay. There appears to be a defective batch. Thus, I must come to you today with a heavy heart in having to disclose that the Festival of the Baked Beans may no longer be. What happened to quality control? I imagined a Dave Letterman/Paul Schaffer skit ...

"When I'm at home I just love a nice cold beverage and a cold can of Bush's Homestyle baked beans," Dave reflects to the audience at home.

"I eat them, myself ... straight out of the can," adds Paul, grinning. "Have you ever wondered how those cats over at Bush's make those delicious beans?"

"Well, funny, you should mention that, Paul. Through the magic of television ... yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's magic ... we will discover the secret of Bush's baked beans." Dave grins, and the camera zooms in on the obvious gap between his two front teeth.

Dave and Paul suddenly materialize near a large door of an even larger building with a sign that says "Home of Bush's Baked Beans." They both pat their head, chest and legs in disbelief.

"Well, we're here, Paul. Let's step inside now, shall we? You know, I can smell the aroma of those lovely beans already."

"Uummmmm." Paul smacks his lips in anticipation.

Dave opens the door. He and Paul walk in.

"What the ...?" asks a confused Dave, as the camera pans several hundred unattended crock pots steaming away. The night watchman, played by Larry "Bud" Melman, appears out of a small office.

"Can I help you boys?"

"Well, yes, Paul and I have come here through the miracle of television to discover the secret of Bush's baked beans."

"Just a minute. I'll be right back."

Paul and Dave stare in disbelief. The night watchman walks over to one of the crock pots and opens it. He sticks a spoon in and tastes the contents.

"It needs more sugar!" he yells. He picks up bag of brown sugar and attempts to pour in a small amount. About half of the five pound bag falls in. "Oops!" he says as looks around the room to notice if anyone saw him. He covers the pot and scurries back into the office. Dave and Paul are staring into the camera with both their jaws dropped.
 

Baby wanted to know what we should do with the rest of the beans. "Grind it up," I said. Pouring the beans into the garbage disposal was an unceremonious event, as was flipping the switch and watching the poor beans liquefy into oblivion. Woe is me!

I was still hurtin' when it came to time to go to the gym again. I could barely do anything, no less walk. The floor work in the step class did my emaciated little glutes in. I am a physical wreck! Embarrassing as it was, I had to ask baby to massage my glutes so I could regain some mobility. Sheesh! I will never have Buns of Steel like The Bull.

Well, I finally got my monk haircut here at some clip joint. It was one of those $9 jobs. I told the guy I wanted the same monkish look only shorter. He took out his clippers (which looked more like a Flowbee) and started butchering. Butch, as I call him, cut everything short except for the top, front part. I looked like a pine cone. After Butch finished his masterpiece, he blow-dried it. What exactly was left to blow-dry? He had already removed the little cloak, so all the loose hairs blew into my shirt and pants, much to my chagrin. I ended up taking two showers because I was itching so bad. Sheesh! How am I going to explain this to Ray, my real barber?

The oversized pine conehead was still hurtin' from the day before. It is also amazing to see how much the gluteus maximus muscles are actually used during a step class. However, a computer nerd only uses his glutes for a cushion during intense nerd sessions. That could be my problem. After a day like this, nothing beats the Festival of the Baked Beans. I checked the batch codes and found one of the cans with a different code. Hopefully, it will be okay.

The Festival of the Baked Beans turned out well last night. Baby has persuaded me to continue observing the Festival. She also bought a bottle of Kim Chee for the ol' lavahead. I was happy as a clam! My glutes are pretty happy, too! They don't hurt as much today. Baby had several appointments, so I was left to my own devices once again. I kept noticing my so-called haircut. I just couldn't take it anymore. I took out my razor and shaved down the pine cone masterpiece that Butch sculpted with my hair. I should have cut my own hair with the damned razor. Sheesh!

Tomorrow is the long-awaited meeting with Kevin (voyager@seanet.com). He will be driving down to Portland from Seattle with his aunt and moms. Unfortunately, his new babe will not be able to make it. It seems that many of my homeys have found babes recently. Perhaps that is why I no longer hear from them. Well, I just hope they check in with LoserNet now and then. Sometimes we can forget those old days (before babes). Speaking of which, I should mention that I will eventually e-mail people who have written in. Unfortunately, I have very limited access at this time. Xmodem has also left a bad taste in my mouth.

Fodgers and doughnuts! Then, baby and I were off to Portland to meet Kevin (voyager@seanet.com). We met for lunch at the Key Largo. Kevin brought moms and his Aunt Mary (the "gals" as Kevin's babe Sandy lovingly calls them) along for the day trip from Seattle. Unfortunately, Sandy was unable to join us. Lunch was very nice. Baby and I spent time to get to know Kevin. He is a very amiable fellow. After lunch, we all went to Saturday Market to look around. We looked at all the booths and talked in between. The day was considerably hot, and the "gals" were getting tired. We left Saturday Market. Kevin dropped off some film at the one-hour photo place, and then we drove to Washington Park. He presented me with a can of Bush's baked beans and a can opener. We took several pictures of us and the Bush's at the entrance to the Rose Gardens. We toured the gardens after the photo session. Kevin noted a rose variety called Electron. "Even the power engineers have their own roses," he said. The heat was taking its toll on the "gals," so we called it a day. We stopped off at the photo place. Kevin showed us pictures of his babe, and he also invited us up to Seattle. We said our good-byes. Baby and I enjoyed meeting with Kevin and the "gals," and we look forward to meeting up in Seattle soon.

I received a piece of mail that disqualified me from obtaining my latest loan. In addition, my payments on the $40,000 balance are scheduled to begin in a month. I have lost my deferment option, too. Once again, the sinister force was toying with the oversized cranium. I am at a loss concerning what I will do now. We went to Starbuck's for some cold Frappuccinos. We went to Egghead Software after that and played with a kid's program called Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo. That was much more fun than Windows Solitaire! When we got back, I tried put the whole situation aside so we could partake of the Festival of the Baked Beans to commemorate our meeting with Kevin.

I was still deeply troubled by my situation. Fodgers and doughnuts did little to dispel my apprehension. I had recurring thoughts of Butch. In retrospect, I wish I had grabbed his Flowbee and used it on him. I could still feel the clippers being run back and forth, up and down, and diagonally across the oversized lavahead. I have seen more graceful sheep shearers. Sheesh! We had gone to GI Joe's to look at some guns after my so-called haircut. If it wasn't for baby, Butch might have learned what I mean by "going janitorial." The weather today has certainly matched the circumstances. It rained most of the day. Baby ran a few errands. I played with the computer. My nerves are frazzled once again.

I woke up with a stiff neck. As far as I can tell, I had a bad dream. Most likely, I was trying to torque the head of a certain barber (Butch) in that dream. I remember once when I woke up in the middle of a dream a few years ago. I was propped up on one arm in my bed and punching my pillow. Sheesh!

The sun came out again today, so baby went out by the pool for most of the day. I have never been one to suntan. Well, hey! I'm a pale computer nerd! Does it matter whether my twigs are tan or not? We went to the gym, after missing the last two days. I was hurtin' after the workout! Then, it was time for the Festival of the Baked Beans. Baby and I had another misunderstanding. You know, babes require a lot of attention. Apparently, I have been derelict in my duties. Perhaps baby is right about my insensitivity. After all, I have lived in solitary confinement for so long. It is times like this that I need to seek the wisdom of The Master.

There really is nothing like a swift kick to the groin to emasculate a man and make him feel eunuch-like. That is exactly how I feel in the latest turn of events. I am at a total loss to discern the direction I will take. Baby had several appointments, so I was left to my own devices. I spent most of that time brooding over the situation. The real problem is the sense of powerlessness that I am experiencing. People keep prodding the face of stone. Little do they realize that the stoneface may crack and explode at any time.

I was thinking about Saturday again. Meeting Kevin has been one of the highlights of this Summer. He had quite a few nice things to say about baby. He also told me, "She (baby) is very independent. I like 'em that way." I agreed. I also mentioned that babes always get their way, so it is best to sit back and think about computers and let them make the decisions. Kevin added, "I made the decision to ask her (Sandy) out. She makes all the other decisions." Yep.

Today was a nerdfest! Baby and I went to check out several computer stores. Our primary reason was to find a cheap (preferably free) modem for an old i286 computer that baby has in addition to the Mac. We finally found one at a computer store. It turned out that baby knew the owner. So, we ended up with a 2400 modem for free. No documentation, no software, though. Well, hey! I'm a computer nerd!

 We went to K-Mart to look for an old man hat for the oversized lavahead. So far, only Target seems to carry a line of old man hats. It's hard being an old guy! We also stopped off at the Goodwill store to check for bargains. Somehow we didn't make it to the gym. Baby had gone earlier in the morning, so she didn't mind. We partook of the Festival of the Baked Beans, and went to Hollywood Video after that. We rented Star Trek: Generations. That was a fun movie. A lot of people had told me that the movie was crummy, but how about that Data, huh? Data was a cutup! I thought I would have time to work on the computer, but, alas, that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Continue the adventure now ... move on to August!

The Keeper of Lost Lives: Journey to Nowhere

Starring:
42-Year-Old Virgin ... Tralfaz
Baby ... Herself
And a cast of thousands!

© Copyright 1996 by the 42-Year-Old Virgin
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