| Journal & Weblog | Write to Save Your Life | August 24, 2003 |
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posted Monday, June 26, 2000 Smoking Kills, Chap My friend, Natasha, recently came back from a year studying in London. Apparently, English cigarette warnings are a little more blunt than their American counterparts: Smoking Kills. None of this pansy-ass, Surgeon General crap about how smoking "may", "in some instances", "possibly", "cause damage." The strange thing is, however, that despite these warnings, practically everyone in Great Britain smokes and there's not the big controversy over "Big Tobacco" and industry corruption as there is over here. Maybe the companies here could learn some lessons from that honesty and make a buck or two.
Hottieboy Update Every class, I make a little progress with Nick. Not much, mind you, but any advancement is good. Last night, I was determined to spill and tell him I'm gay. After all, as Tara says, if he and I are going to be friends, I should be myself. I couldn't do it, though. The thing that amazes me is that I'm able to tell people all over the world through my website, yet the courage eludes me when it comes to these types of situations. Leif, Nick, and I were discussing the latest homework assignment and Nick mentions all the trouble he's having so I did what any hard-up, gay man would do for his gorgeous, straight friend: I told him I'd be glad to help him out. His response: "Yeah, I'll definitely have to come over to your house one of these nights so you can work on this with me." Yow! He just invited himself over to my house. Naturally, I nodded my head like the little doggie in the back of the car window. For the second day in a row, I offered to give him a ride to his car and, on our way over, we discussed weekend parties. My plan was to ask if he had a girlfriend, get an answer, he'd ask me the same question back, and then I'd lay it on him: "No, I'm gay." That seemed logical. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out that way, his response being, instead, "No, I don't have a girlfriend right now. I'm sick of girls. I want a challenge, but I don't want the hassles of a relationship right now." Is it okay to read between the lines here, or is he merely stating the honest truth?
Mental Dialoge of Late God, Nick is so fine. Where should I eat lunch today? Nick seems so straight-acting, but he's so goddamned nice to me. I could try Taco Express, I've wanted to stop by there since they opened last month. I haven't had any Mexican food for a while, either. I should just go up to Nick and confess my adoration. I hear Taco Express has really great burritos with cilantro and guacamole. Then again, I might freak him out and I wouldn't want to do that because we're working on this project together. Did I remember my homework today? If I go home to check, I'll be late to class and won't get to sit next to Nick. Maybe I can grab something to eat while I'm at home and save some money. God, Nick is so fine.
Musical Chairs I am convinced fate is playing a part in my life right now. I walked into class today, determined to sit next to Nick and as I walk in, I chicken out and sit next to Leif. Well, it turns out the chair is broken, so I nonchalantly get up and move up a row to sit in the empty chair next to Nick, making sure to whisper to everyone as I walk by that it's broken. I'm smooth. We start talking. I choke on my water. After coughing and spitting water on the desk, people three rows behind me are asking if I'm okay. Somehow, I manage to regain some semblance of composure and ask if he wants to work on the semester project with me and he says, "Sure." I have yet to get the digits, but that's definitely in plans for Monday.
Cherry-Limade Sports I just wet myself. Okay, don't get excited, it just looks like I took a leak in my shorts. The problem with eating at Sonic is that you're in your car and a large cherry limeade doesn't fit in the cup holders so you have to fit it between your legs. See where this is going? Needless to say, as fate would have it, the stem of the cherry happened to get caught in the edge of the lid and very sensitive parts of my body were doused with very cold, very cherry-limey goodness. I think car makers have got it under control though. After all, cars keep getting bigger and bigger every year not just to accommodate today's fatter Americans, but also to fit today's larger, 64 oz. soft drinks. Think there's a correlation here?
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