05/24/2003 - 10:59 p.m. | so... where was i?

I've gotten so good at stretching my boring ass entries into long rants that now that I'm doing something outside of the factory, it's just too much. OK, probably not. Anyway, at Starved Rock last night, I was sort of punchy. Some might say manic, but we'll ignore them. A little too much energy; Mom and I started screaming Jackson Browne lyrics at the top of our lungs and doing some clonky white person dance (is there an "e" at the end of his name?). I also ran across the veranda and tackled our friend Tina. Apologize. Mom and I decided to walk to the car, so that I wouldn't explode with energy or something. As we walked towards the parking lot, we saw this crowd of kids heading towards us; my mom said something along the lines of, "Let's avoid them; they look like idiots." I was just starting to yell at her for being ignorant when we noticed that it was Tanna and her friends, proving me completely right.

Tanna was there with some dude. Uh, you know how she rejected me? Well, at least I can prolly confirm that it wasn't on the grounds of looks 'cause, uh... this guy ain't purdy. He's a big boy, and he doesn't look particularly friendly. He's from Oswego!! She didn't really say anything to me, and I wasn't about to say anything to her with DUDE glaring at me and judging my every move. Probably. So much for that. I'm just as happy talking to grown-ups. They seem to get my jokes more - or pretend, at least. It was a fairly decent evening, not much to tell ('though I've dragged it on so long). Local musician Steve Sharp played the same stuff he pretty much always does. It's good now and then, but I can hardly understand the obsessive cult following. 2 John Mayer songs within 10 minutes? Ack. That's a little too much like the radio for me. Drunk people danced, and it was good. Drunk people yelled and pantomimed, and it was even better. I can't mock so much, though, because I did end up dancing some. Not "dancing" because I am a) not good enough and b) not stupid enough to take myself seriously. It's more like overdoing things... to the beat. I am a beast at high kicks. Actually, I started hopping around on this railing inside, and I am wicked flexible. Perhaps I would be a gymnast if my arms weren't so miniscule and if it hadn't been for that horrific depantsing experience of freshman year. I only recently got over it enough to share with my parents, so here you go, internet!

So, by some stroke of luck, I happened to be the only freshman guy in my PE class at Serena. This didn't make things particularly fun during hell week (although that's when I learned that I am a wiry SOB), but all the upperclassmen mostly just left me alone. Anyway, during the gymnastics unit in class, we were building pyramids. Being the lightest one in class (yes, this includes girls), I was usually the one on top of pyramids. So, one day, we had assembled one, and I climbed up on top. The sow of a teacher inspected it, approved, and we started to disassemble. Someone shouted, "Nate, hang from the basketball hoop." I am gullible. I did. So, I'm hanging there and one of the senior leaders in the class fucking yanks my shorts down. Shorts and boxers. Fuck. I let go of the hoop, and in the... however many seconds it took before I hit the ground (no good at phyiscs... -9.8 m/s^2), I yelled "SHIT!," grabbed my shorts, and pulled them back up. In midair, mind you. Then I hit the ground and rolled a few times. Not cool. And this was a coed class. My, uh, thing was the first real life thing some of the girls in the class might have seen. Highly embarrassing.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that I was cleaning my room last week, and I found this little scrap of paper on my desk with the name of this girl from Serena (Susan Whalen) and her phone number. I thought it was a bit strange but figured my mom might have dropped it in there (all our shit ends up in different rooms) and just pitched it. Anyway, I was relating this story to my folks, and I happened to recall that Susan Whalen was one of the girls in the class who I was almost positive saw my junk. This sparked my mom's memory who saw Susan at IVCC a few months ago. Apparently, she had been asking about me and gave my mom her phone number in case I ever wanted to call her and do something. HAHAHAHA - Ten points to Nate for his first phone number coming from a depantsing four years ago.

At 11, Steve played Uncle Kracker, and it was decided that we should go home. Drove home, ate Swedish Fish, and seriously tried to write all this stuff out. Failed. Oh, by the way, Lisa gave me this bottle of chocolate syrup before she left; it's for The Hulk movie, though, so it's dyed green. I've been drinking a lot of chocolate milk lately in an effort to lighten the load (there's A LOT of syrup), and now my poop is all green. I think they should have played up that aspect in advertising. "Poop just like the Hulk does!" Right. Crashed around 2, I think.

Some point while I slept, I guess I decided it would be a good idea if I kicked my headboard as hard as I can (by the way, I sleep the wrong way in bed, feet facing headboard, so that I actually have to sit up to turn my alarm off... Makes sure I get up, as I sometimes have the tendency to unconsciously shut the alarm off) because I sent a big jar of gum cigarettes sprawling. Hi-ya!

Mom and I were gonna go to auction at 10 this morning, so I woke up at 8:30, stumbled downstairs, and emptied the dishwasher. Chores are becoming automatic. Scary. I was like, "Gotta pee... Oh, guess they're clean... Better empty it." Showered to Blur (therein lies the brilliance of my theme days; it jogs my memory about stuff I might otherwise forget) and got done ridiculously early. We were gonna go get breakfast, but Dad got home early and pointed out an auction that had already started. We all grabbed yo-yos (seriously - a blue and red Duncan Imperial for them and a smooth-as-hell purple one for me because I am, of course, their progeny) and drove out to the Kendall County Fairground, which is almost exactly the drive I make to work at right around the same time. The world is getting creepy with its familiar cycles. Towel of Indistinguishable Color every morning (Was it green at first? Yellow? White? Brown?! How did this happen?!) and we all take our various pills using the same purple cup on the Brita tank. I love you, Pill Cup.

The auction was just amazing. So much crap to buy. The temptation is a thousand times worse than anything Wal-mart could throw out at me. It also reaffirms my need to learn to be an auctioneer. I mostly watched as people threw their money away, but I can see how easy it would be. I mean, everything's so cheap. Even if you don't need old fishing poles and a saw, for that price, you can't afford not to get it! And when you do bid, you feel like a total badass. Like a drug, I say. Don't do drugs. Anyway, I scoured alongside everyone else (except we had yo-yos!) and came across a Mr. T action figure from the '80s, still in the box. Well, shit, gotta have that, so I decide I have to wait around until the bidding starts on it. My parents have to meet someone (Tina, from a few paragraphs up) for lunch, so they leave me there to wait. Bored as hell, I yo-yo mostly, but when that gets old, I start to look through boxes of books getting ready to be sold. I'd kind of like something to read, but I don't want to get a whole boxfull, so I wait until some guy wins a box and then offer him 50 cents for one of the books. He accepts, and now I have The Great Gatsby. I start reading and forever and a day later, they finally start selling the dolls. Then, the tension only mounts (I know, sounds lame, but it's true) as I keep hoping they'll bring T out. Finally, a while after my parents return (damn!), they do. I am a bidding machine, but unfortunately, there was an actual toy dealer there, and he was willing to pay more than $30 for it. Nevertheless, it was fun, and I totally screwed him over! No one else bid on T; he woulda gotten him for $5. Hung out there for a while longer and then Tina, my parents, and I all headed back here.

Took my shirt off (BLEH) and tried to get just a little color, as I am looking totally goth right now. It didn't work :( I also used a pressure washer on our big natural gas tank, which seems unsafe to me, but I appeared to have survived, so OK!! I could have so much fun with a pressure washer; they are an untapped destructive force, I believe. As I am the most willing errand boy of everyone, I ran into Sheridan to get some limes. Actually, I took my bike. For being as old as it, it was actually pretty smooth. The brakes make me a little nervous (a little slow on the uptake), and it's a pain in the ass not having gears sometimes, but I like the simplicity of it, and I made all the way up the big stupid hill purely on brute force, which I guess I'm sort of proud of. I was practically dead afterwards, though, so I think I'm gonna start riding more until I can do it easier. Bikes are fun :D

I was pretty lethagic for the next hour or so after that and completely non-hungry, but my parents decided to make mini-artichokes and a variety of different pizzas. This meant another trip into town, but this time with Tina in her car. We looked around for bootlegger tea ingredients, but apparently Sheridan doesn't believe in pussy shit like triple sec. Rented 25th Hour (Edward Norton, Phillip Seymour "Fatty McFatfat" Hoffman, Brian Cox) and got Cow Tales. Dinner was good. I love artichokes and feta cheese pizza waaay too much. I'm gonna make it next year, and you all are gonna try it, damnit! We were gonna start watching the movie, but Mom wanted dessert, so I went back into town once more with my dad. We took my car. He kept worrying about the noises it was making; I said it was best if he ignored them prolly. Dove Bars are excellent, and I am writing way, way too much, so I'll try to wrap it up.

25th Hour was good, not great. Edward Norton was terrific, of course, but I was surprised to find that I didn't think Hoffman annoying in this. He was all buzzed and nervous and cute. I just don't like it when he's smarmy, I think (ALL THE TIME). And Anna Paquin is silly. I don't know what that means. So... recommended, I guess.

Sorry I wrote so much. Not even really interesting, but now you know, and you won't have to talk to me, so I'm gonna sit here and keep score in the lobster vs. mini-RC car battle royale. Points for effort, Pinchito. Points for effort.

"Champagne for my real friends, and real pain for my sham friends." :D