Horrible “like watching a train wreck” show of the season: Blind Date. The premise involves an intimate first date between a cloyingly unpleasant man, an annoyingly unpleasant woman, and a camera operator. There are two men and two women per episode. I have no idea how many camera operators are involved.

These people are just plain awful. They’re boring. They’re the sort of people with whom you’d prefer not to have even a fleeting chance encounter, much less an entire date. They talk in clichés and giggle a lot. The most exciting moments are seen outside their cars as they drive from one bland L.A. nightspot to the next.

And it’s sucked me in twice this week. I start watching to see just how much worse the first couple can get. I keep watching to see what idiots the second couple will be. It would be almost hypnotic if not for the slight queasiness I develop after the first ten minutes or so.

The only thing which might be even more grating would be watching two West Hollywood muscle clones on a first date. But I wouldn’t count on seeing that particular sort of coupling on this particular show anytime soon anyway.

And speaking of train wrecks, check out this site.

Finally, thanks to everyone who wrote in about things mosquitoes hate. Citronella candles came in as the number one choice, followed by Avon’s Skin-So-Soft lotion. Other suggestions included thiamin, peppermint oil, and Bounce fabric softener sheets. Fortunately, the city has cooled off, the windows are closed again, and the problem seems to have disappeared.

Time for a quick wank and a little sleep now…

Seven years ago today, I was in Denver for the first time. It was the middle of a pretty exciting week for me. I was 28 years old. I had just said goodbye to my friends and family in North Carolina. I was driving across the country for the first time, headed for a new life in an unfamiliar place.

I had no idea what I was getting into. I’d been here exactly one time before and decided on that two-week visit that I needed to live here. I had a grand total of five friends on the west coast. Four of them were in San Francisco. I would be living with two of them in a studio until we found a bigger place.

I was a long-haired malcontent working for a retail chain making eight bucks an hour. I’d just bought a 1990 Chevy Cavalier for the trip, which took me through Nashville, Kansas City, Denver, Salt Lake City, and Winnemucca. I liked Denver so much that I considered staying there. Strangely, I haven’t spent any significant time there since.

Of course, I ended up living with another of my four friends for over six years. I shaved my head. I went on to become a manger with said retail chain, making significantly more money, until I eventually quit to become the marginally-employed freelance type you know today. Someone torched the car. I started a little personal website which became a big personal website. San Francisco has lost most of its mystery.

Everything was so exciting during those three days in Denver. Everything was new and different. I had a sense of direction and I was looking forward to the future.

Now that I’m bored with almost every aspect of my existence and too damned lethargic to do anything about it, I really miss those days and that thrilling, wonderful, frightening trip across the country. I wish I could get that feeling back.