2 hours sleep. i get up monday morning 5:40 AM. it was supposed to be six AM. several hours beforehand i had decided that between the pain in my guts and the heat radiating from the woman next to me, there would be no sleep for me in that bed. i wandered out to get a glass of water and try to find comfort on the couch. at 5:40 apparently my absense was noticed, and she came out to let me know she was going to turn the alarm off because she didn't want to get out of bed again. i got up then. i shower. the best part about staying in a house full of women is the shower. all those products made with fruit and flowers that you'd never buy on your own, magically presented for your use. in a daze i find myself near the world's first motel, in the countryclutter lobby of the apple farm resturaunt, san luis obispo, CA. i'm supposed to meet someone at 7am, but i can't remember what she looks like and my morning fry is prohibiting communication anyway. one woman is a likely suspect. i look at her a few times. she look at me a few times. finally she asks me if i'm waiting for someone. i've been waiting, for a girl like you, to come into my life. well not really. her 15 year old daughter either. we talk shop over ill ripened fruit and coffee. she describes the formalities and technicalities of the day. exhibit: forms. "i have to figure out what EOE racial category people just by looking at them?" "well, you sure can't ask them" 8:30 AM through 11:45 AM i am locked in a small hot room. desk. three chairs. every half hour a new almost-grad comes and sits nervously in my presence. i fuck their minds. lunch. grab a burger. i notice that conversation seems almost always directed at me and my actions, plans, views. this is, i think, because i am a terrible conversationalist. i also notice that often times i miss parts of a conversation because i am thinking about other things. sometimes because i am thinking i am a terrible conversationalist. more interviews. everyone sucks. the last guy is an apprentice golf pro. i told him i would give him the job because i would like free golf lessons. only now to i realize that R.C. will be angry. u wld be 2/if it happened to u. driving home. i am exhausted. too many things to pay attention to. i'm trying for the speed limit, but the jackbooted highway nazi paces me at 78. i tell him i thought i was doing 80. my honesty gets me cited at 75. the big issue is the signs. most places say something like SPEED LIMIT 55. but along 101 the signs say MAXIMUM SPEED 65. now is it just me, or does my 75 MPH ticket kind of prove those signs wrong? i feel misled and taken advantage of. it's like those SLOW CHILDREN AT PLAY signs. i'm always looking for chitlin's slipping down a slide or swinging or something in stroboscopic slow-mo. never. the gub is out to get us stupid folk.

Natorious: WHY are you interviewing golf pros? You're supposed to be interviewing ME for that Kept Woman position! Did you get my resume? Shd I e-mail it again? Ah, Nate... Whatever am I gonna do with you? From now on/skip the java & fruit for breakfast. Have a nice stiff Margarita/hop in yr car/turn on yr radar buster/& dare anyone to stop you from getting to work half an hour late/as usual. Stop only for fetching hitchikers/large animals & earthquakes (Cali's abt due for another one). As a hip hop poet once said/"Fuck da Police!". Or you cd put in for some much-deserved vacation time/drive to FL & let Mami take care of you for a little while. You sound stressed.

Sounds like the best part of your day was the shower. I agree about the advantages of living with women husemates, another is that if you're lucky, they are good cooks and like cooking for more than one person at a time. I've never lived with any guys who can cook as voraciously as the women I've lived with, so I'm not making any sexist remark here (that I'm aware of).

Get a gay roommate. Stereotypes are rooted in the truth -- I've never known a gay man who cdn't burn in the kitchen. Plus/he'll keep you from leaving for work in the a.m. looking like a homeless dweeb or a corp. clown.

You know, the best homemade bread I ever had was made by a gay acquaintence of mine.

It's cute the way people always think stereotypes are true until you throw a few of the more offensive ones up in the air.

hmph. i'm the second best cook i know. the best is another straigh male. so much for them stereotypes. i don't live with women, anyway. i was just staying with them while i was interviewing. please resubmit resymays. darvocet.

Nate, what is the specialite du maison? I make a mean greek chicken, a five cheese lasagne with veggies, and an absolutely perfect pot roast. That's all I really do for hot foods. My thing is dips. I experiment with them...I play. My biggest success to date is my artichoke dip on baguette with prosciutto, melon, and lettuce spun with tangerine-lime juice. The success, of course, is all in my head because I don't have a salad spinner...but I know it would be fantastic.

i've been playing with marinades lately. like grilled tri-tip marinated in tequila/lime/serrano/etc. garlic/lemon prawns with sugar peas and asparagus tips. my sauce is legendary among my friends. like a chunky tomato-based stew poured over pasta. i usually just make something, instead of having a set of dishes i make. i find out what's in the house, and i build something.

got that jerk seasoning from 14th street. the spice is in the mail.

<garlic/lemon prawns with sugar peas and asparagus tips> Nate -- lose the asparagus & I Am THERE!

I,m hungry!!!

eat me

do you come with gravy?

I can't speak for this guy, but I prefer to use my own bodily fluids, thank you.

i concur

We all come with... oh, forget it.

ANd THEN THE KID FINALLY DID AND THEN THE DOG ATE IT AND THEN THE DOG KISSED THE MOMMY> AHAJHhahn trdhae

Nate, you definately need a vacation

BUT THE DADDY PUT THE POWDER IN THE ICECREAM!!!!!!

I'll pass on the tuna sandwiches also, thank you. P.S. I came. P.P.S. Don't let the dog kiss you.

I thought of r.c. last week while I was watching "fight club." I was reminded of her stories of boxing and making explosives. I want her back.

RIGHT NOW THE ICE CREAM IS ABOUT TO BLOW