Scott Says: June 19th, 2007 at 10:06am edit Mr. K., your problem is immediately recognizable. You are decompensating! Can you hook your legs behind your neck? That maneuver is often helpful, and, if nothing else, it will excite Megan. On a more positive note: Quentin Crisp said that if you can tolerate not cleaning your home for three months you?ve got it made, because it will NEVER look any dirtier. Perhaps the same holds true for one?s body. NICHOLAS! Try not bathing for 90 days. You know what? Something very bad is going to happen soon, but whether to you or to me is not clear. mr. nerses, have you been consulting the 1-900 numbers again? i told you, porno only. miss cleo is bad for your sinuses. i hope your prognostication was in error and everything for everybody is okay. my life has pretty much been good things only: i get to spend all my time with a wonderful woman. i get to see my dog periodically. i work pretty much when i want to and get paid too much to do so. i went to disneyland (again. for seven days in the past few months. this happens when you date a girl whose entire family are disney afficionados -- i say afficionados, but really i mean crazy like mickey mouse stalkers. crazy like britney spears or paul reubens -- who, incidentally, is the voice of the robot on 'star tours' i just discovered. somehow it makes that ride even better than i remembered). my ipod is awesome and everyone is jealous of it, and me. i talked to my little brother last night. he's in afghanistan, near the pakistan border. he's been playing a lot of texas hold 'em. i guess war is pretty boring. other good things in my life: ben & jerry's. they make me have those special man-to-man-to-man feelings. ummm. i'm dog-sitting for barb and dave (previously referred to as 'my parents', but they haven't been that for about 18 months -- which creates a weird sort or interaction between us that subsists almost entirely of emails and post-it notes left on the kitchen counter). i am dog-sitting because i miss my dog, mainly. they offered me money but i don't really need money. i like money, but i don't need money and i do not feel particularly well accepting barb and dave's money. it would much too easily bring back that indebted feeling that i have worked very hard to escape from being under. my parents are well-off, sure. but does that mean i can't do the work to take care of myself? i have done much for myself (at least in my own eyes) to escape the spoiled little rich kid syndrome. not to say that for most of my teens and early twenties i wasn't a spoiled, drug-addicted little rich kid, just that for now, i am enjoying the sense that i can (and must) perform the necessary rituals to provide myself with a level of comfort that is acceptable. and let me tell you, i like being pretty damned comfortable. i'm thinking sloths in trees and puppies in pajamas and cookies in ice cream and naked keg-stands kinds of comfortable. besides, it?s nice to have this rather large house in a great location to just megan and myself for three and a half weeks. it really is a weird feeling to have this relationship like we do. every other relationship i have been in has been clanky. they all smoked up and sputtered and stopped and then revved their engines and sped off for a few miles and then brokedown like a piece-of-shit chevy. shuddering and smoking in a ditch out in the middle of the desert with vultures swirling overhead; their stark wing-tipped shadows stepping in front of the sun periodically; their raucous screechings seeming to tear at the smoldering sand surrounding that single empty lone stretch of pavement where you are (i am) huddling. cowering. terrifying. those are what i'm used to. exasperation forced emotion. threats and desperate renumerations. terror binged excitement. chemically assisted insanity based infatuations. and now here i am with this thing -- and i call it a thing because i don't know what else to call it -- this thing that works so smoothly. it's surreally effortless to love this woman. it's surreally appealling to adore this woman. it's surreally surreal to surrender everything to this woman and function day to day tied down like a rambunctious chicken, surreally surreal to bask in the rubbing of those ties against my doughy, callous laden skin. she has problems. we have problems. sure. everybody has problems. my right leg is almost a half-inch longer than my left. her left leg is almost a quarter-inch shorter than her right. she can?t poop in new locations. i have to take medicine to stop my anus from bleeding (not really but that's what i tell megan to try and make her feel better. who wouldn't feel better about their own condition when compared to someone whose anus is bleeding? seriously.)