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7:22 a.m. - May 12, 2003
I'm not going near clippers for a while because there's nothing left to cut
The day off today in order to buckle down and accomplish something of note. This does not include burning CDs, looking out the window, or reading. I leave Tuesday night for Dallas for the Texas round of presentations Ė two days in Dallas, two days in Austin Ė then direct to San Diego for my brotherís graduation.

So today I must create the presentations in powerpoint this time (audience feedback from Indianapolis suggested trying to wet my feet on 20th century technological aids and always the sycophant, I try my best) though Iím not going to try too hard. Just enough to come across as a don, thoroughly authoritative, and completely mesmerizing. Small grin permitted. Must also ideate brotherís graduation present and Iím tempted to tally what Iíve spent for his tuition, rent, incidentals and late-night pleas for cash, frame the number, and frame it, but that strikes me in poor taste and poorer humor since I donít begrudge him being a leech. Another small grin permitted.

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Last night had difficulty sleeping and decided to buzz cut my hair. It is short and I like it and best of all, the haircut was free. And then I looked down and had an idea Ė not that I shave my head while nude, but simply one of those male-recognition moments, the ones that inspire peanut butter on pizza and you wonder where the hell that idea originated Ė and I recalled my pubes were further along the untamed jungle side of maintained than suburban-lawn sculpted. End result? Even with the extension to make sure I didnít trim too close, I trimmed too close and my pubes look like they have a five oíclock shadow. I feel like a poorly-shaved cat and you know how nasty those look. So that is this weekís secret revealed here to you. Oh, and the best part? My balls were itching so I put on the cocoa butter lotion I use and damn! did that feel goooood! As the Good Bard said, Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting. I think thatís from Henry . . . anybody know for sure?

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Be good today and sign my guestbook or better yet, the guestmap.

Later (9:23 a.m.) Damn, these balls itch. I'm having to do my tasks one-handed. What a day this is turning into. Reprise: Sign the guestbook and guestmap, eh?

 

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