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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").
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Poollapolooza Sunday, July 27 1997
ory the C&O waiter/reformed British auto-thief had slept on the couch last night. He's a regular in our little world these days. A hippie-type couple came to visit us at Kappa Mutha Fucka this afternoon. They were Ali and his girlfriend (I forget her name). Leah met them while ringing up their groceries at Fresh Fields/Whole Foods. She says they're really not hippies, they're "organic-food-nazis." This means, I suppose, that they are extremely fussy about the purity of their food. They're a strange couple; they live in their car but only eat expensive, all-natural food. After two visits, they're already big fans of my art. The girlfriend is interested in getting a job as a waitress at the C&O, something Rory says he can help her with. Rory also discussed passport/immigration issues with Ali, who is a naturalized citizen from a Middle Eastern country. The unfortunate reality is that it's impossible to be a citizen of the world, though Rory is trying.
don't know if they went or not, but Matthew Hart and Deya were planning on tubing down the James River today. The original plans called for many more to go, including Rory, Sam, myself, maybe others. But I didn't feel like going, Rory got called in to be waiter at the C&O, that sort of thing. Leah, by the way, was at work.
As you can see, Fresh Fields/Whole Foods places little trust in its employees. It's a demoralizing environment in which to earn a living. I have to say, as an anti-example, that one of the emotional "perks" of working at a place like Comet is the amount of trust placed in me. That trust alone does wonders for my dedication to my job. If I was treated like Leah, I'd care considerably less about Comet's success. In the afternoon, it was just Leah and me at an incredibly hot & humid Kappa Mutha Fucka. I went around the house fixing broken things with a tube of Liquid Nails, coming across broken things I hadn't ever noticed. The habit some residents have of throwing bottles indoors is gradually resulting in a depressing security-deposit-devouring fog of destruction.
napped from 8pm until 11:30. Surprisingly, I managed to awake at that point and join the drunks down in the living room. These included Sam, Natalie, Shonan, Leah, Matthew Hart, Rory and Deya. I really don't enjoy my friends when they are drunk and I am sober; they're loud, they don't respect my space, they throw things and are violent for no discernable reason. Ami Sage came by and mostly talked with Deya. Meanwhile, Leah, Matthew, Shonan and I went on a last minute run for Pink Grapefruit Mad Dog. Do you notice how we experience gradual and sudden climate shifts in terms of our alcohol of choice?:
ost of us (Matthew Hart, Leah, Shonan, Rory and I) decided to go swimming at a nearby apartment complex's pool. Matthew drove us there and we jumped the fence and splashed around a bit in the water, which was a good temperature after an especially hot day. Matthew knows a few games that drunks can play in a pool, and the one he proposed playing was called "Marco Polo," a kind of blind-man's-bluff tag game in the handicapping environment of submersion in water. But just as we got going, the apartment security guy came and chased us off. He made the indiscretion of shining a bright flashlight in our faces. Then, as he saw us getting into a car and not returning to a room, he expressed dismay that we didn't even live there. "Don't ever come back!" he shouted. "Of course we live here!" responded Matthew Hart, "We live in eleven-B!" We went to another pool over near Rory's place (back of Barracks Road Shopping Centre somewhere). It was smaller and shallower, but we weren't interrupted by authorities as we played our little game. Randomly, a Middle-Eastern man and his black girlfriend came up as we competed to see who could make the biggest splash. We invited them to join us, but all they would do was judge our splashes. Several times I inhaled so much water that I nearly threw up. So as you can see, free access to the pools of Charlottesville didn't prove difficult. Shonan named our adventure "Poollapalooza." It could have been so much more; we considered possibly going on a tour of pools all over Charlottesville, but already the night was old, so we returned home.
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