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1998jun06. For the last few weeks, I’ve been getting a lot of credit-card application junk mail. I think I know where all of this stuff is coming from, because one of the applications was addressed to someone who’s never used my p.o. box. I think there are RO-BOTS trawling the net, grabbing “whois” address information, and then putting this into a database. And for some reason, this is a big deal to credit card companies. And this gives me a warm feeling, because between the daily mail flow, and all the calls from the long-distance companies, it makes me feel like I’m someone important. If you are a sales representative for any type of product whatsoever, call me. Let’s talk. I love you.

1998jun17. The Detroit Red Wings just won their second Stanley Cup, so everyone is outside tooting their horns and yelling and going “whoop! whoop!” A lot of these jubliant fans are carrying large brooms, used to indicate a “sweep.” Other people wrapped large garbage cans in aluminum foil to represent the actual Stanley Cup in question. So as I was driving through crowds of people yelling and whooping and hoisting their brooms and cans aloft, I pretended I was just crowned “Janitor of the Year.”

1998jun29. I went to the hair cuttery yesterday. This is a full-service salon, so they have a little nook where someone washes your hair. Big turnaround in that department. I sat down, and this woman gives me what was unquestionably the most erotic hair-washing in my life. It couldn’t have been any more sensuous without adding a dollop of groping, fondling, or undressing. Of course, since I had my glasses off the whole time, I never really made eye contact with the hair-washer. Then, after she was finished, I noticed the brand-new tip jar.

I wobbled over to my hairdresser and got my standard cut. Afterward, she showed me the front page of the local newspaper, which featured a red bridal dress with a HUGE Red Wings logo on it.

“I wish you hadn’t shown me that ... now I’m going to be nauseated the rest of the day.”