Today, Herb and I tried to create a new recipe and we rendered our taste buds useless for this endeavor. All the discomfort I felt from this process was alleviated because I knew Herb was going through the exact same thing.

That was insane, what I just went through. Thanks for hanging in there.

Today, I'm due to play some basketball. As a professional basketball player/fireman/restaurant owner, I am living out at least three childhood dreams. I only wish I was allowed to play during basketball games more often, put out more fires, and not have to put up with my "good friend" Herb. Also, I wish Yolanda would give me the time of day. I am not getting any younger, after all, and would like to see the look of shock and horror on Herb's face when he sees my progeny dwarf him, even fresh out of the womb.

My children will come into this world with all the skills and talents my wife and I possess, I believe. That is how it normally works, correct? The only babies I have dealt with to a great degree are those of Herb, and they inherited his uselessness.

My friend Herb is an evil, heartless child born out of wedlock. I would not cry if the power cut out while Traci Bingham was running along the beach on that syndicated show about lifeguards. If I ever become that devoid of intelligence, that I cry when I cannot see a woman running in slow motion in a swimsuit on television, then I request to be shot.

Herb does not realize that the television show "Sex and the City" does, indeed, have the occasional sex in it. While he may be in a loveless committed monogamous relationship, I am not, so I must live vicariously through the television. As for my love of "Little House", I am a big Laura Ignalls Wilder fan. So Herb can go have a loveless committed monogamous relationship with himself for all I care.

I did not see a movie this weekend. Yolanda was busy, as was Herb. I do not know what Yolanda was doing, but I know Herb went to go see that movie, the one I promised Yolanda I'd go with her to. I was rather surprised Herb allowed his wife to take him to see it, but he took my shock as to mean that I did not know of that movie.

I told him not to spoil it for me. I only hope that Yolanda is free soon, so that I may go with her to see it.

Today, Herb's wife told me an anecdote about Herb severely overestimating his own intelligence. I laughed, in a sad way.

I went to church today, and there was a sort of ATM machine in the vestibule. It turned out to be a machine to donate money to the church. I have no idea what is connected to, or how they're going to get money from it. When I brought this up the Deacon, he merely shrugged at me and told me that God will provide. I think the Deacon has gone insane.

Today, Herb was having a conversation with the Deacon about the power of prayer. Inevitably, it turned to Herb and what he would pray for, as Herb steered the conversation that way rather clumsily. The Deacon was understandably perturbed when Herb revealed that he used to steal candy bars and ask for God's forgiveness. I was appalled, but also delighted. You see, our restaurant used to have a selection of candy bars which would always go missing. I think Herb was behind this. I may put out a trap for him, a laxative-laced chocolate bar.

Also, I may be going to see a film this weekend. Would you suggest the movie with the actor recovering from substance abuse, or the movie about the fellow with anger management issues?

The Deacon uses the power of God to overcome the overwhelming taint Herb places over everything he surveys. Perhaps it's a good thing he's always coming into our failing restaurant.

Today, Herb told me of a disturbing story involving the pastor's assistant. He and Herb had gone over to the rectory in order to see the rectory's grill. I have seen this grill. It is needlessly ornate and filled with tubes and nozzles. In any case, the pastor's assistant went on to butcher one of the Ten Commandments, as Herb was immediately infatuated with the rectory's grill. Herb then began praying to this false idol.

I fear that the rectory has been infected, and I shall have to report them to the Vatican. It is my duty.

Apparently, Herb tried to poison the pastor by using pure gasoline to grill. He should have used propane, which he could have obtained from any reputable retailer of propane and propane accessories. Then, the outcome will have been the pastor tasting the meat, and not the heat.

I stole that line from that animated prime-time television show. I apologize.

The pastor's assistant came by the shop today, baffled. He remarked that he had gone to Herb's home, probably to conduct an exorcism, and his wife made the claim that Herb was offering up sacrifices to some sort of pagan god. I reminded the pastor's assistant that Herb is most likely a Satanist, and that Herb's wife's comment was ridiculous.

Apparently, Herb's wife actually meant he was barbecuing, but doing a poor job at it. So now the pastor's assistant knows that Herb worships the dark lord Satan. Boy, is my face red!

Today, I was happy as I thought about my father. While my mood quickly became depressed when I remembered how I had blown my first chance to thank my father for his support, and also the fact that I once had a glorious head of hair, I was happy while thinking of him. Happy Father's Day, Dad, wherever you are.

Also, if I recall correctly, my NBA team misprinted my initial jersey, putting Jamaal where my last name would be. This would make my name Jamaal Jamaal, and while that would put me into the same category as that video game character everyone used to talk about, this is not the case. I am sorry to disappoint.

Today, I remembered a conversation Herb and I had about things not too long ago. The fact that it eventually turned to the topic of things Herb's father (now passed away) said to him, and the realization that my friend Herb might fall victim to the injuries done upon him by those people of unlawful leanings brought me a small measure of joy. Does this make me a bad person?

I cannot talk for very long today. Herb was bragging about his new checkbook and pen today, both made of solid gold, and some young men caught wind of this. On the way home, they assaulted Herb and took his checkbook and pen, and left him for dead in a dumpster. I am now on my way to visit him in the hospital. I shall update you on his status tomorrow.

This unfortunate turn of events, coupled with Yolanda's business, means no movies for Jamaal this weekend. Perhaps over the week I'll see that movie about the fellow with anger management issues, though. We'll see what happens.

My friend Herb has decided against investing his stimulus check, and will instead frivolously spend it, a fact which causes me much disbelief. I confronted him about this, and he basically said that he would rather be fiscally irresponsible rather than fiscally responsible. While this did bring a smile to my face, as I now had the means to make Herb's life even more difficult, I had to wonder what Herb would spend the check on and what, exactly, his means were. After all, he quite recently bought a Smart Car, which is no small purchase, though it may be a small automobile. Perhaps he shall use his check responsibly and use it to pay off his car.

Who am I kidding? I know that Herb will walk lazily into the night, not coming home until half past five, and his stimulus check will be spent on those who practice the "oldest profession", powdered hallucinogenics, and alcoholic beverages.

For my part, I have put away my check in order to purchase that fax machine I've had my eye on. It should be on sale at the beginning of next month for that holiday.

It also looks like Yolanda will be otherwise disposed this weekend, and so I shall see if Herb wishes to go see a movie. Perhaps he can use the stimulus check for that, when we see that movie everyone has been talking about with that one actor.

I was pleased to see that my friend Herb had not been consigned to an asylum, and had at least gone home to get his mail. I do not know why he brought his mail to our diner, but soon found out why he was smiling at it. It was his stimulus check. He then proceeded to say that he did not trust his wife with it, which brought to mind a disturbing thought: I do not recall ever hearing Herb say anything kind about his wife, or indeed, his entire family. I found this troublesome, to say the least, and it led me to think that perhaps I should abandon my hopes of courting Yolanda as I care deeply for her. Instead, I should find someone I hate so utterly that it is an attraction akin to the true, deep love that exists only in fairy tales. I shall have to find this person. It is a shame Herb is male, as were he female, he could certainly fit my criteria.

I attempted to bring up Herb's hypocrisy in dealing with th elevator gentleman earlier today when he went into a tirade about his aunt's inability to shut up. I smirked to myself and thought, "Like your short stature, the inability to remain quiet is a trait that runs in your family!" and would have vocalized this opinion to Herb, except he would not shut up. At one point, he ceased making any sort of sense and just began to say "yak" continuously, with a few "yakkities" thrown in. I wandered out of the diner at some point around eight, and Herb had not shut his mouth the entire time. This was maddening, but I later spoke to his wife and what Herb did was apparently exactly what his aunt did to him, complete with the "yaks" and "yakkities". While his wife did ask me to retrieve Herb for her, and to make sure he was not wandering the streets while confronting various citizens with his own blend of malice and madness, I have not yet done so.

The most disturbing thing about all of this is the fact that, when I spoke to Herb's wife, his aunt was still on the phone. No one had yet hung up on her, for fear of incurring her wrath. I may call the police on both Herb and his aunt, as I've no doubt they pose a threat to others.

On another note, Yolanda has decided to think about going to see a movie with me this weekend. If we go, we'll see that one based on that television show with the women. If she decides not to go, then I suppose I'll have to go find Herb, wherever he may be, and ask him to go. I know no one else well enough to invite them to see a movie. I need to broaden my social horizons.

Today, my friend Herb shared with me an anecdote about how he "one-upped" a man waiting for the elevator by not telling him that pressing the button more does not make the elevator come more quickly. I was astounded at this base cruelty in my friend, not remembering a time when he had engaged in such maliciousness. However, I then turned to thoughts of hope, and wondered if Herb's actions were not, in fact, for the greater good. The man he had "one-upped" obviously believed that pressing the button more would hasten the elevator's time of arrival, and if he had been robbed of that belief, he may have been grief-stricken and gone through the rest of the day in a period of advanced ennui. Then again, perhaps neither action really has any effect on this man, and in my mind I picture both Herb and his victim faceless objects, forever awaiting the elevator. I know this is not the case, as at this point and time, Herb has gone home and I lay restless on the cot of my own despair, but still I wonder if Herb's actions were for the greater good or a step into chaos.

On another note, I have still not received any sort of snail mail, e-mail, faxes, or text messages. I can only assume my house-mate Yolanda has burned all of my mail, or perhaps stolen it for we share a secret unspoken love. The e-mail has probably been destroyed by those who use their expertise in computers for nefarious deeds, though I cannot imagine to which end they would do this. I do not have a fax machine, which explains why I have no faxes, but I wonder if people are trying to fax me despite this. Should I purchase a fax machine so that I can receive all the faxes for me that potentially exist? I shall think on this. I can only blame the lack of text messages on myself, for my over-sized fingers cannot depress the buttons on the phone ably enough to send text messages of my own, and so people do not send me text messages. I have received one blog reply. After reading it several times, I replied to it. I can only hope that other blog replies come to alleviate the overwhelming ennui that comes from the monotony of my life.

I am going to see if Yolanda wants to attend that movie at the theater, the one starring that actor everyone is talking about. If she declines my offer, I shall invite Herb. I just hope he does not have me smuggle him into the theater inside my coat this time.

Yesterday, while I longed for human contact, no one came to my aid. As such, when I found my friend Herb having a temper tantrum in my kitchen this afternoon, I was rather surprised. I treated him with cold impassiveness in an attempt to gain some sort of comfort from him until he expressed his wish to some day win an argument with a woman. At this point, I felt as if I could become witty and borrow a line from my father, being incapable of having more advanced thoughts "on the fly", as it is. However, I realized too late that the line I had borrowed was merely on how futile it is to try and argue with a woman, and not winning those arguments as I had previously remembered. This struck me with a feeling of ennui and also affected my friend, Herb. I did not finish the sandwich I had made that day, and when it became clear to Herb that I was not going to escape my despair, he left to have another futile argument, no doubt.

I envy Herb. Though he may be Lilliputian in stature compared to myself, he has experienced the mutual touch of another human. As such, I shall not report Herb's trespass into my kitchen.

After I checked the mailbox for the fifteenth time, I attempted to despair. While I did feel a twinge of longing for some sort of human contact, any sort at all, I needed to resort to Thomas Merton to advance my near-constant state of ennui to a level where I felt actual sadness. This, too, shall not last as eventually my media player will either run out of batteries or Thomas Merton, at which point I shall merely regress to a state where I simply am, emotionless.