Today’s soundtrack: big money for families having more than one
Today at 10:02am: on the phone with tech support


Last night I lost at Lotto.

It was up to $125 mil.

Which after taxes is 50-something million. That’s a lot of cheddar.

Last night I get in the door around 9:30pm. Seiji’s back from his first day at the job, apparently taking the edge off with a glass of whiskey. This is his first real job, he works for the NBA. Looks like we’ll be going to the Knicks-Rockets game, I’m psyched to see Yao.

Shady comes home soon afterwards, so now there’s three us. Each with our own Lotto ticket.

At 11pm sharp me and Seiji got our eyes glued to channel 5, watching the thing, you know, the friggin’ ping pong balls with the numbers. Both of us lost.

Shady shuffles out of his room a minute later. “You guys win?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I won,” I say. “A hunnert and twenty-five mil. That’s why I’m still sitting here in our shithole living room, calm and in no rush to get anyplace.”

I awakened at 4:30am this morning because my biology is not cooperating with me. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I put clothes on and had some pineapple in the kitchen. Eventually I gravitated over to the laptop and started working.

Mike’s back from Japan, I just saw him and Yuka. They’re going on an afternoon date up to the museums. I might have dinner with them down at their place (down the hall) if I can make it out of Hapkido in time.

Speaking of Hapkido, the other day I was there and this thing happened. Again. There’s this one white guy there, can’t remember his name, but every time I train with/stand near Rosa he makes a comment. He’ll say something weird like “The Bobsey Twins!” or “I see the two of you are together again...” and I’m just like Whatever, White.

I think because Rosa and I are both short Koreans whose first names begin with “R” it sets gears in motion in his head. In a parallel universe I interrupt his next comment by double-drop-kicking him through a shoji screen. I’m big on parallel universes.

Did I ever tell you about Roberto? He’s the bouncer guy who last year hit me in the neck during training and I eventually had to go to the hospital. Well he was at the dojang the other night and I worked out with him, he’s one of the best guys at the school. He said good things about this one kick I’ve got so I was pretty psyched.

It means a lot to me coming from Roberto, ‘cause he’s an excellent fighter. The guy is crazy ripped too, you should see him. He’s like an inverted triangle of Latino destruction. We weren’t grappling this time so I didn’t get hit in the neck, although he did almost break my femur. In a parallel universe he kicked my femur out of a window.

The UPS man just brought me a package. It’s a copy of a magazine I wrote an article for almost a year ago; my article was delayed until recently, and they’re finally sending me a copy.

I opened the package and turned to the “Contributors” page to see if they fucked my name up or anything. They didn’t, and there’s even a little dorky thumbnail photo of me, but they completely fucked my bio up. This is the second time with this magazine. I should go down to their offices and kick some femurs.