1:01 a.m. - 2004-05-19
Me go sleep now
I don't really have anything to say...I mean, uh, not much has really happened lately.
I mean, uh, nothing funny to write about, per se.
I was just going to mention that, you know, it's probably time for a new batch of young ladies to volunteer for my newest Women's Lib entry.
Yeah...
If you don't know about my Women's Lib entries, you better read my older entries and catch up.
That's pretty much it.
I mean, I don't have anything much to say. Nothing funny, I mean.
Plus, I have to go to bed right now. I need to sleep.
I can't be funny all the time, right? I mean, sometimes there's nothing to talk about. But, now that I have my banner advertising my diary, and a new generation of "fans" turning my diary into a cult diary sensation, I'm expected to be funny every single entry?
But, seriously, I just wanted to mention that I'm currently accepting new Women's Lib volunteers. That's all. Interested females should send a mandatory photo of themselves to [email protected] only requirement is that she be cute and cuddly, in my opinion.
So, that's it.
Seriously.
I know you think I'm going to end with a wham-bam-in-your-face punchline, but I'm not.
I have no news.
The only news I have is that I got a letter from my landlord saying that my apartment complex tested positive for asbestos.
What the?! Asbestos?!
What year is this? 1895?
Didn't they outlaw asbestos from being used in buildings in the 19th century?
Are my water pipes coated in lead also?
Asbestos makes you die. It is little hairs or something....little hairs or something that float in the air, and you breathe them in, and the hairs lodge themselves in your lungs, and you die.
I'm not sure....I don't know the ins and outs of asbestos poisoning.
I never needed to know the ins and outs of it! It's supposed to be old news!
It's supposed to be ancient history.
I'm not supposed to have asbestos in my place of residence.
I don't know the ins and outs of scurvy either.
Or rickets.
They are ancient diseases. They are cured. They are old news. We don't have to worry about them.
I thought it was kinda fishy when I moved into this apartment and noticed that the tub had three knobs by the faucet...
One for Hot, one for Cold, and one for Smallpox.
Silly apartments.
So, I am breathing in asbestos everyday.
God is in a rush to do me in.
As if the whiskey wasn't enough.
The letter from my landlord said that the asbestos won't kill me, as long as I don't put holes into the floor or wall, such as hammering nails into the wall.
If I do, it will loosen the dormant asbestos.
This could explain my testicular problems as of late. My lumpy, bumpy, deformities on my scrotum....I mean I've had holes in my wall since the day I moved in here 9 months ago.
But, come on now, I know I'm not the only guy who drills a waist-high, 7-inch deep, 1 1/2-inch diameter hole into the wall of his bedroom on the first night in his new apartment.
His first night alone...in his big, lonely apartment.
I mean, uh....to check for water damage and diagnose the, uh...you know, insulation...in the building...
Diagnostic stuff like that....you know.
9-inch deep hole, I mean...
