2 am: Bill Clinton calls, desperate for advice. What tie to wear for inauguration? Chide him for forgetting five-hour time difference, suggest he wear an Aloha shirt, go back to sleep. [2]

8 am: To work up an appetite for breakfast, swim two laps around Oahu towing an Atlantis submarine by a rope clenched between my teeth. [3]

10 am: Meet agent downtown for a late power-breakfast to discuss early reviews of my self-help volume Go Without the Flow. It is a challenging, thought provoking call for individual responsibility (original title: It’s Your Own Damn Fault) and is consequently not expected to sell. However, it is short and nicely illustrated and debuts at number two on the New York Times non-fiction bestseller list. It is eclipsed only by Robert Fulghum’s latest, Everything I Learned in Grades One through Twelve, [4] which consists entirely of blank pages.

11 am: While driving, compose a haunting six-part extemporaneous fugue based on the theme to Gilligan’s Island but lose it when my passenger asks me if Jan or Marsha was the oldest Brady girl. [5]

11:30 am: A somewhat inexperienced nurse at the blood bank, overawed perhaps by the magnificence of the vein in my left arm [6], draws six pints of blood instead of the usual one. Aghast at her error, but with no way to return the excess, she recommends I “get plenty of fluids” and “avoid lifting heavy objects for a few days. Unfortunately, an inconsiderate person has double-parked, trapping my car. I am forced to lift the offending vehicle over my head and carry it to a legal parking space. At home I drink three quarts of POG^TM. [7]

12:30 pm: A person of indeterminate gender and no sense of humor catches me posing in my (Hanes) underwear in front of a Calin Klein ad and accuses me of immodesty. I retort that I have no use for a well-lit bushel.

1 pm: Mail brings 2 comp. tickets to Bio-hazard, “a hygiene-free band.” Dubious. Pass them on to a friend who admits that since he can’t get a date on such short notice, he’ll probably end up bringing his cocker spaniel.

1:30 pm: Stumble across a loophole that will allow Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates to drive his non-street legal Porsche 959 in the US [8]: transfer title to a sovereign nation which registers the car as a diplomatic vehicle and loans it back to him with full immunity. The relatively young nation of Belize owes me a favor and agrees to do the honors. Bill, however, maintains the car has been “more trouble than it’s worth” so why don’t I just “take the damn thing” off his hands. Must remember to send him a thank you note.

2 pm: Still having trouble lining up investors for latest enterprise, a bungee-jumping dating service for risk-taking romantics. [9]

4:30 pm: Necessity being the mother of invention, I take a few minutes to genetically-tailor a microbe to eat oil after accidentally draining my crankcase onto the driveway. Not having an easily accessible culture of E. Coli, I use the unrecognizable contents of the Tupperware™ container on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator as the starting point for my experiments.

6 pm: Castigated by art teacher in class, my simple line drawings are “flat” and “lifeless”. When I point out that these very qualities make it convenient to hang them on the wall she explains that by varying line quality and style I can add “value” to my work. Taking her words to heart, I sign Picasso’s name to my next assignment.

8 pm: Am approached by a swarthy individual who offers to swap hostages for weapons. I refuse, even when he threatens me with shredding. [10]

11 pm: Supermodel Paulina Porizkova [11] calls from the airport. She’s split up with Ric Ocasek because she suddenly realized he is “kind of goofy looking” and she “just can’t be alone right now.” When I pick her up she is wearing nothing but a trench coat (London Fog) and lingerie (Victoria’s Secret). I make her sleep on the couch.

2 am: Bill Clinton calls, wants to know if a Chablis is appropriate to serve with a runaway federal deficit. Suggest that a varietal might be more appropriate and that chardonnay in particular probably has the robustness he is looking for. [12] Make a note to call GTE for a new, unlisted number.

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1. I’ve never used a dating app, but back in the days of newspapers (remember those?) there was a section in the classifieds for dating. They were necessarily brief due to the format (and expense). This is a response to an actual ad which, to the best of my recollection, in its entirety, read “Risk-taking romantic seeks damn interesting guy.”

2. This is from 1993, which explains the dated references.

3. A little plug for Atlantis Adventures and their submarine tours, an actual, local business that has employed a surprising number of friends over the years. Great for tourists, and worth doing once at any rate.

4. Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten was inescapable in the early 90s.

5. My “visitor from Porlock.”

6. The number of phlebotomists who have remarked aloud on the quality of the vein in my left arm is, well, it’s more than one. When someone asks me what’s my favorite part of my body and the context demands I keep my pants on, this is my answer.

7. Mmm, POG. I’ve got some in my fridge right now.

8. More on Bill’s struggles with the 959.

9. Whoops! Should have led with this. Maybe that’s why she never wrote back …

10. An Iran-Contra reference! Now that’s how you woo a woman …

11. Porizkova, still goddamned gorgeous at 58, has become an advocate for “aging with dignity.”

12. This is complete nonsense. Chablis is a region in France, all wines of which use the chardonnay varietal grape. I still know next to nothing about wine, but I’ve made my peace with that.