Got me some interesting fan mail today. It was from a reader who had an interesting offer. Here it is below:

Chuck:
I read your journal and have fallen madly in love with you. Please tell me when we can get together so that I can suck your cock dry. I'm only 16 but I am fully developed (D-cup) and my boyfriend says I give the best blowjob he has ever had. Please let me suck your luscious cock.
Cindi

Well, damn! It's about time! My heart leapt when I read this.

Finally, a sweet young thang wanted me! Finally, the 'stake was paying off with a dividend of nookie! Finally, a blowjob that wouldn't require hours of begging! It just doesn't get any better than this.

Oh, sure, there were drawbacks to the offer. She's 16, for example. By 16, most women are past the point of unquestioning obedience. And the D-cup thing -- I've never been a big tit guy. I'm a small tit guy. "More than a handful" and all that. And that whole boyfriend thing? I didn't need to hear that. Fantasy girls aren't supposed to have boyfriends, and they especially aren't supposed to use them as blowjob references. But I could overlook those shortcomings. Beggars can't be choosers, you know. And besides, I'm cheap and I'm easy, but I'm worth it.

So I was intrigued. I was hopeful. I was sporting wood. Then I read on the diary-l list about two other male journalizers getting similar email. My fantasy girl was a cruel hoax.

Dang. I never get to have any fun. And now that I'm all in the mood and everything, I guess I'm going to have to go start begging...

Tuesday -- September 14, 1999
Ow

Ow. Ow, ow, ow. I'm having tooth problems. I blame my dentist's assistant, Jema.

I haven't been to the dentist in about a year and a half. Not since March of '98, to be precise. I know when I was there last because Jema told me when she called last Friday and asked where I've been. I mumbled about how time slips away and I hadn't gotten around to it and blah blah and she shamed me into making an appointment for middle October.

I hadn't been back because my teeth have been doing fine -- no aches, no pains, so no reason to see the dentist, not even for a cleaning, which is the one thing I really hate about going to the dentist because all that scraping sounds like blackboards in my head. My teeth have been fine. Until Jema called. Two days later they started hurting.

I went in today for x-rays and "let's do a cleaning as long as you're here", and came out with the news that I need a root canal and an "appliance" afterward so I'll stop grinding my teeth in my sleep.

I told Jema I hold her personally responsible for all of it and threatened to send her the bill. I was fine until she called. Grr.

In the meantime I've been chowing down on Advil during the day and at night some Vicodin left over from my toe surgery. The Vicodin's been making for some strange nights. Friday night I was so tired I was almost literally passing out, but I was still up all night.

I've been paranoid about someone breaking in at night lately, so Friday night I put a club next to the bed so I'll have a weapon handy if I should need it. The paranoia that prompted that was fueled by the Vicodin, and every time I started to fall asleep I'd jolt awake and look toward the doorway, convinced someone would be standing there. Nobody ever was, but that didn't stop me from dropping off and jolting awake again and again and again, all night long. I finally really went to sleep just after dawn, just in time for Zoe to wake me up for the next day.

I can't come up with a clever closing for this entry tonight. That may be because I took a Vicodin about an hour ago, but the fact that I can still feel my teeth hurting through the anesthetic haze might be playing a factor, too.

But wait... Is that someone in the doorway?