09/08/2005 - 12:53 a.m. | a pocketful of weird things

Finally, one thing of note about Gautam. He apparently likes - or at least tolerates at amazingly-high levels - the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. There's a quirk if ever I've heard one! Every night I come down and he's sitting there watching whatever mindless celebrity or horrid musical guest they have that night. It appears to be country week or some shit, which should be more than enough to scare anyone off, but he just sits there and takes it. Makes me a little uneasy, I must say.

Also, I was poring through myspace today, desperately trying to find that upper tier Andrea clone I saw at the cookie place that one time (Yes, I agree - that is sad) when I came upon old Andrea herself. The weird thing is, she has herself listed in her profile as bi. Still, I thought it just might be a joke or something, but then I checked her facebook profile, and it says she's interested in men and women as well. So, wait... Did I date a bi chick? More importantly, did I stick some of my parts on some of her parts that had previously been touched by other girl parts? AWESOME! However, confirmation is difficult, as this isn't the easiest thing to broach in conversation, though, is it? Especially when I sort of just abandoned her out of no where nearly a year ago. "So you love vagina too, huh?"

My revised billboard for 452 was not the resounding success I had hoped for. In fact, everyone more or less ripped me a new one. Maybe it was flawed, but I just don't think they got it. The weird thing is, I expected to be more discouraged by this than anything. In fact, it's just got me more riled up than ever - a) because I think my shit was a lot weirder and better than they gave me credit for and b) because I really want to kick their asses the next time around. And with Mitchem deodorant on my side,I don't see any way that's not possible!

Strangest of all is the fact that everyone at the Housing Authority seems to like me now. Maybe it's sympathy for the sprained ankle. Possibly it's the fact that they're not renewing the contract and won't have to see me much longer. Or maybe it's the fact that fucking Ericka skipped town, leaving us inspectorless for the past 2, 3, 4 days maybe. I only hear sporadic updates about this from others (I'm not willing to talk with Brian, if you'll recall), but I guess a new temporary inspector is supposed to come up from Louisiana. Thus far, they have not. I think the Housing Authority staff is finally learning that all those fuck-ups weren't necessarily my fault, and that I am employed with and by cretins as standard operating procedure. The only bad news then is that I might be expected to hang around until the contract runs out, which could be as long as 60 or so days. I don't want to leave them in a bind particularly, but I've given my notice, and I fucking hate that place like the depths of the underworld in which Hercules had so many advertures. By which I mean Kevin Sorbo. Where was I? Ah yes - fuck that place. I will be out the door in a matter of days, in my mind at least.

Strangest strangest of all is that I am going out dancing with Hot Michelle on Saturday night. That doesn't even begin to make sense.