08/30/2003 - 11:56 p.m. | i hate falling the least bit behind on diary entries

Second threatening note from a postal employee: �NO NAME = NO MAIL,� this time scrawled on a sticker poster outside our door. Apparently, they thought the equals sign would clarify some shit for us. I was more worried about finding the next message carved on a horse�s head in my bed, so I took their advice. And named.

Heading to stats, I noticed that my bike seat was a little soggy. Not wanting to have embarrassing wet butt all day, I decided to stand and pedal. This worked fine until I got on the sidewalk parallel to Lincoln, when some asshole car decided to drive in the gutter and send a tidal wave flying at me. Thank you much. Then some guy honked at me for no reason. �How dare you cross my path! I have slain kings for less than that!� Sorry, sir.

Met Will outside stats. Classroom was now wet and hot and smelly. Great. I was all set to pull out my notebook and take what notes I could take from Mumblsky the Mad Russian, but, through a stroke of what I suppose could be called good luck, Will gets free notes straight from the teacher from now on. Good for him, good for me. Nap time. At least until the professor comes by handing out papers. Then one must try to retain self-control while additionally not pissing one�s self.

By the time class ended, the light drizzle had transformed into yet another death monsoon. I was to meet Michelle at the Union to go donate blood, which required a bike journey from the south quad to the north. No big deal. Well, someone didn�t explain to me that bikes don�t outrun rain; in fact, they seem to make it pretty worse. There�s the ass splash back, of course, but also the fact that you�re speeding into the rain so that it can pelt you more thoroughly. Luckily, I was generating a pretty generous wake, so I like to think I gave as good as I got. Something about shitty, rainy weather really unites people. Everyone walking around the quad all had to battle the same common element, whether it made them pissy or sad or (in my case) giggly. I dunno, I guess that�s as close as I�ll ever get to philosophy. They had umbrellas and some ran.

Met Michelle, but apparently, she�s like 3 days short of when she�s able to donate blood again, and I�m sure as hell not doing this alone (I need someone to carry me when I pass out), so we put that on hiatus and went to Moonstruck for chocolate chai. Yum � quite a long time since I had that. For pretty much the entire hour we were in there, the rain dissipated, but as soon as Michelle had class, Nature was like, �Nate�s back on his bike! Fuck him!!� Resume monsoon. Clothes that were just beginning to dry were resoaked and then some. One of my notebooks is pretty much ruined. And I was a cold, wet, exhausted mess. Fun. Oh, yes. Fun.

Changed into jammie jams (aww!) and took a nap for a bit until Kyle screamed something about me going to the grocery store with Michelle. Assuming this was some sort of dream (why wouldn�t she call me herself, see?), I kind of flopped around with Kyle and Spritz (in bed!) until I got confirmation that I either a) wasn�t dreaming or b) psychic.

Got my shit together and went to her place, then to her car, then on the road to Savoy. Japanese songs were sort of sucky, but they didn�t last long. We stopped at a Cingular because her phone was messed up. While waiting for someone to help her, Michelle totally hacked the gibson on the little ringtone computer there, so we checked e-mail and read The Onion. I want ringtones so much. Make me resist. Eventually, they gave Michelle a big clonker monster of a loaner phone, and we set out to Wal-mart.

Dunno if it�s �cause it�s new or because I�m never at that particular Wal-mart before one in the morning, but they have a fairly elaborate candy store installed in the front lobby. Do you know what this means? This means Jelly Bellies. As I began the process of filling up a massive bag, Michelle skipped here and there, sampling just one or two of certain things to see what they were like. She got to the dispenser of giant Sno Cap type things (but with rainbow non-pareils!) and pulled the handle a little too hard so that around 20 dumped in her hand. She quickly hid as many as she could (in her mouth!) and we divvied up the rest. Take that, Wal-mart! But, the story continues� There was no cashier around in the little candy place, so I decided to just take my sack o� jelly beans and wander around the store with them. And, since I was already doin� that, might as well eat a few! Well, by the time Michelle had debated on everything she wanted to get (and we�d taken more than our fair share of bread samples) and seen the live-action infomercial for super miracle knives (which I guess we were supposed to get free, except we�re not 21), we�d eaten roughly half the bag and were entirely sick of them. So they got hidden. In the produce section. Yes, I am a bad person.

After a slightly longer and smellier drive home (backroads!), we went back to Michelle�s. Since there were several hours until �goin� out time� (my mind still functions on my parents� clock, where everything stops at 9 pm), we decided to make dinner: spinach and ricotta tortellini in marinara with artichokes and feta. It�s a pretty expensive meal to make, but when I cook, I do my fucking shit right. Michelle didn�t have any sizable pots, so there was also the added challenge of making three tiny pots of pasta while saut�ing and preparing the sauce. Still, it went off fairly hitchless, and everyone seemed to like it. So� *beam* And JT�s music really made it all worthwhile. No, really. REALLY.

Once talk amongst the roommates began to turn to that of stepping out and getting ready and shit, I decided it was certainly my cue to leave. Headed back home expecting a lonely evening of, I dunno, paint thinner or something. Not to be. Bumped into Spritz, Brytne, Allen, and Kitty running out to the gas station. I joined them and then we headed back here for the dranken. I�ve still yet to be drunk, and I don�t plan on it, but I find it can occasionally be a good supplemental. By the way, I can see why people drink Redbull and vodka; the energy drink tastes so much like ass that nothing can touch it. We half-assedly watched Fear and Loathing (respect for Johnny Depp continues to grow), and I�m really starting to enjoy foosball a teensy, tiny bit, despite the fact I always, always lose at it. Michelle and co. stopped by to say hi for a while, and I believe I was a touch ornery, but I�m sure only in the most charming way possible. I just wanted to listen to the damn Proclaimers in the dark, you know? I emerged from my cave somewhere along the way, and then it was just floating discussion between mostly Allen, Kitty, and myself to a lesser extent. Topics touched upon include �penu,� me doing Allen in the butt, and the crappy vodka-soaked gummi bears that were supposed to expand and turn cool instead of just making the sauce worse than anything imaginable. Actually, lots of things. I�m just not sure any of them would interest you cretins.

It was decided at some point that we should journey to Taco Bell. Because that�s what drunks do. They go to fucking Taco Bell late at night. So, we went on our merry way, and I swear I saw Dank�s car drive by, and it was right near his apartment, so I took off after him� and then he just vanishes. There were two Nissans like his in the lot, but no Dank and nobody near his place. Stupid brain. Went to Taco Bell and got the �grande meal,� the concept of which rocks. 10 tacos or burritos for seven bucks. Grabbed Shelly a bunch of taco sauce packets, because that�s what we underappreciated nice guys do. We get taco sauce. I also guarded the men�s lavatory while Kitty took a piss. We all grabbed water and went to the same parking lot I always make people eat late night Taco Bell with me in. What a joyful wreck.

On the walk home, I discovered that I could do Spritz�s mist mouth spray thing with water, so I started blasting everyone in the face. This led to somewhat of a battle between Kitty and myself, which I assume I won. Back here � and more and more people dropped off for the night �til it was just Kitty, Allen, and me. While Kitty deliberated on whether or not she wanted to crash here, I held in a poop and Allen gradually transformed into a sassy Puerto Rican woman (�Oh no you di�int!�). After several more hours of discussion, little more was decided, so I threw Kitty my Princess sleep mask, contact case, a pillow, and a blanket, and flopped in bed around 5. Not before pooping and sending Michelle a text message. Which did wake her up, which was totally what I was trying to avoid. So I just suck balls.

Woke up today to Kyle yelling or something at 10. This grows to be a common element. Not like I had anything better to do, so I got up and coached Kitty on the Harry Potter Playstation game while making gains at picking up the living room and kitchen. Dishes took forever, which I guess shows my dependence on that damn electric Satan, the dishwasher. At 12:15, shortly after Kyle�s butt cheesesticks were finished baking, Michelle called and was more or less like, �I�m outside in my car. We have less than fifteen minutes to find a particular post office somewhere in Urbana.� I greasily jogged out, and we hit the road. Drove around sort of aimlessly, but I guess we got lucky and made it there just in time for her to get her package. By the way, the Guster CD is perfect for driving around. No doubt.

Took the insanely long and convoluted path back to her place, where we ate the rest of the pasta with spinach salads and bleu cheese dressing! Yum! We sat apathetically around for a while, then decided it was in our best interest to go to my place and watch Varsity Blues while she crocheted. �I don�t want your life!� No, really. He doesn�t. What a film. Stupid whipped cream bikini girl. Angry. Spritz joined us, and we all talked for a while, and I suddenly decided that I didn�t want to smell anymore (or as much, at least) and showered. From there, Michelle and I went back to her place. She made quesadillas while I tried to find something serviceable to watch on TV. Failure on my part. After �While You Were Out� or whatever (fuck Andrew!), we watched the red carpet thing for the Video Music Awards from a few days ago. Sick sick sick. I kind of wanted to see the already infamous Madonna / Britney kissy kissy thing, but an hour into the carpet shit with no sign of a stop, and I gave up. Meanwhile, my brain was slowly being invaded by paranoid demons who decided that there�s no way Michelle could not be sick of me after, um� let�s see�. *tallies* almost eight hours of me around, so I decided to get the hell out of dodge. I just don�t, uh, see what she could possible get from having me around. Nothing to offer, you know?

Anyway, came back for some foosball with Spritz until Justin and Lisa came over. They stuck around here for a while. We tried some DDRing until the trolls underneath us came up for hasslement. Stop writing like a dumbfuck, Nate. I made everyone try Basil Seed Drink, which I think received fairly mixed reviews. Anyway, it was nice to see them again. I�d ask Lisa if she�d want to hang out if she were bored or something, but a) I doubt she is and b) that�s a little weird. Or at least I�ve convinced myself it is. After a couple hour chat or something, they took off, and Spritz decided that he needed to go out, so I got to take him to LAR and drive his SUV back. Jesus, what a tank. I kept not hitting the gas square, so I�d alternately crawl and leap forward. The brakes, however, were a dream. I�m mostly glad I didn�t just tip the bitch, though. OK, this is all complete. Now to go sit or something. *ignore*