Computer Class - 3 pm Monday

The dilapidated brick building, commonly referred to as the computer lab, was my next destination, the timewaster class nestled between English Lit and Evolution of Aboriginal Mating Rituals. The class itself was useless, as I already knew how to use a computer. I was CTRL + ALT + Deleting before I was off my mother's teat, and browsing porn before preschool. I was tickling myself with a feather while all the other tots were tickling Elmo.

I found a seat quickly, as I'd come early (a common theme in my life up to this point), sat down at the desk, and settled comfortably into the chair, despite the fact that it was slightly uneven on the right side. Reclining my feet, I noticed that some douchebag placed their used gum just beside the armrest. By the smell of it, strawberry. By the taste of it, macaroni surprise for lunch. I logged onto IRC to share with my friends, and to do a few petties before the class began. I wasn't the only one taking advantage of the minutes before class.

The girl in front of me was typing furiously at her terminal. The rhythmic swaying of her long auburn hair put me in a trance as I listened to the clickety click of her keys. Sighing inwardly, I rested my chin in my hand, and saw that she was looking at a site called 'BustyAsianBabes.com'. I thought at this point, this vixen was my soulmate. Her name was Stephanie, and tonight I'd make love to her in my right hand. Those thoughts alone would get me through the boring discussion on saving and retrieving documents in Microsoft Word.

Ding ding, time for another petty, and a trip to the city jail. Sprozza and his twenty guards enticed me, and like spandex on a hooker, I was all over it. Of course, it landed me my own ten minute sentence. I leaned back, asked someone (ANYONE) to bee em oh pee, and reclined back in my chair picking at the remnants of gum that had clung stubbornly to the seam. Stephanie chose this moment to turn around, and she stared at me with disgust. What the hell was her problem? I mean who doesn't like strawberry flavored gum? She seemed a lot more interesting with a backdrop of well endowed barely legal Asian girls. Ah, no matter.

Lovely, "You are free to go." Ta to whoever busted me out. Just in time for another petty.

The lesson droned on as I chewed on my thoughts and the recycled Wrigley's. I rested my head on the desk and half listened to the lecture, choosing instead to watch Stephanie's mouse arrow diddle the paperclip Help Wizard in Microsoft Word.

Bitch or not, she could diddle my paperclip anytime.

I felt my eyelids grow heavy, sometime after the professor began talking about saving templates versus normal documents. Who cared? All of my mafia typing happened in Notepad. More efficient, and I never got a pop up from the damned paperclip saying "It seems that you are writing a street thread. Would you like some help?"

I woke up fifty two minutes later in a small puddle of my own drool, with only three minutes to cross campus and get to my next class. I excelled at the Aboriginal studies. I'd collected National Geographics as a small child. Just like Playboy, no one read them for the articles, though everyone pretended to. Instead, they inspired in me early a fond love for long, sunripened and undulating chest appendages of tribal women.

Not wanting to make my IRC buddies wary of my nearly hour long silence, and the couple more they wouldn't hear from me as I raced to class, I bade them all farewell. All caps. They love it when I type in all caps.

I'm kinda like a hero to those guys.

More later, journal.

I love you. Really, I do. I hope that many more of my days get added to this, as your twisted humor entertains me to no end. 

"Bitch or not, she could diddle my paperclip anytime" By far my favorite line, though.

In all fairness this journal could apply for a vast majority of the game.

"I found a seat quickly, as I'd come early (a common theme in my life up to this point)" has to be mine! Poor telky

Having sat next to him in that class, I can tell you that I tired of wiping the saliva from his chin as he stared at that poor girl.  I was uncomfortable for her, and had to bump him before she pressed send on her cell phone to call the police, whose number she had dialed without Telkin having a clue. 

I prayed things would get better at our next class.  How I ended up with a schedule that forced me into the same classes as him I will never know.  Who did I piss off in a past life?  Or in this one?  I knew that guidance counselor didn't like me, especially after I followed her home that third time. 

Anyway, I can't wait to read more of the journal.  Please find the pages he wrote in our Pole Dancing Class from that day.  The routine Telkin did was amazing.  How he suspended himself from that pole with that g-string riding is beyond me.

I'm so tempted to shoot at telkin again.

This is an amazing journal. 

Eagerly waits for part 2.