10/06/2003 - 11:38 a.m. | *pretend to be nice*

I'll be brief. OK, I won't, but it'll be good. OK, prolly not that either. Let's begin. Saturday night, everyone gone or busy - best take a nap. This done, I crawled out of bed, rode my bike to Rentertainment and rented What a Girl Wants because Kyle and I both wanted to see it, and it just wouldn't be possible with Brytne around, because of our constant leering and shit. Nessers called, and I said some stuff, I forget what specifically. While making some nasty Schnucks packaged parmesan pasta, I watched a couple episodes of "Scrubs," which sounds really good to me right now, and waited for Kyle.

Once he got back, we watched the movie, which was fairly predictable, I guess, but Amanda Bynes is fucking adorable (ditto Colin Firth), so it was really fun to watch her run around and be cute in different outfits and stuff. She deserves many hugs. Ahem. Anyway, Spritz and Jen were going to Niket's for a party, and I wasn't particularly up for it, but then I learned AlterNate would be there, and it seemed like a reasonable plan to go and get fiesty on his ass. Also, I keep convincing myself that maybe I'll like parties this time. So, we pre-gamed a little and then lurched over to wicked, wicked Champaign.

Suddenly, it comes back to me. I really don't like parties. Meeting people scares the crap out of me, I have nothing to talk about, I don't like drinking, and I sure as hell can't dance. It's not like I'm there to meet girls or something. I mean, to meet people you either have to be attractive or outgoing. I am neither (Kyle Wild is both, and I am a touch envious of this), so I just sort of sit. Well, either that or Kyle and I scream with British accents (inspired by the movie), except they are not the least bit subtle. We are morons, but worse are the people who believed us. AlterNate was there, and although I am almost positive he felt the same way I do, I at least look a little more at ease. I was considering saying something to him (except I think if we touch, we create some sort of antimatter explosion), but I was in doubt, so Kyle attempted to get me belligerent by means of screwdriver alternatives. One key flaw of my meds that I forgot for a while is that no matter how much I drink, my mind stays really clear (e.g. paranoid) even as my body is getting totally fucked up. Duly noted. Never again. So, I did talk to Patrick, but I was just nice or whatever. Lame, but I feel better about that than had I been an ass. At some point, I danced a little, and I am glad that no one could possibly remember it because I am positive that I just look as awkward as hell.

Kyle and I decided to go home once Amanda left (some girl named Amanda that Kyle tried to force me upon. She was cute, all right, but that's all the more reason why she wouldn't give a crap about me), and he furthermore decided that it wouldn't be a full night until [SOMETIMES I AM SO BLOODY STUPID I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE IT] we drank plenty of water.

Said some paranoid shit to Michelle (as I am wont to do late at night) and then passed out. A few hours later, I woke up and got some water, which I promptly spilled half of on my bed. My priorities set, I stripped the sheets, got a roll of paper towels, and cleaned it up, then crashed on the dry corner of the bed with my feet hanging off. There is a slight chance I threw up, but I was blas� about it ("Hmm... I have to throw up" Walks to bathroom. Puke. Puke. "OK, done." Back in bed, 30 seconds later) that I think it was just a dream.

The thing was, I didn't even want to go out. Stupid stupid.

Up for work, feeling not great but not too terrible either. Got to work and Sarah was far more hungover than me. Still, it was fun to have somebody to moan with. She smuggled in a bag of Goldfish, which we shared while swiping cards. Work went by pretty fast, but we were both starving by the end of it (we kept talking about all the different foods we wanted to eat), so I called Spritz, and he, Dank, Zouie, and I went out to Applebee's for dinner. I've really been wanting a big meal for a while with soup and salad and everything, so this hit the spot. It cost about 3 times as much as my ordinary meals, but it was so worth it. Corn chowder and a salad with honey mustard and chocolate milk and chicken and mashed potatoes. Yum.

Back home, where I spent some time listing some CDs on ebay (an incredibly tedious task) until Michelle came over to watch Josie and the Pussycats with me. There was some foosball first, and she tried to teach me to crochet, but I definitely need some work, especially when the second row. Eventually, I gave up on that for a while and we watched. The music in it was so good (downloading), and I love Alan Cumming, and Rachel Leigh Cook was awesome. If I were a girl, I'd want to look like her in the movie. Well, the hair mostly. And her eyes.

Oh yeah - when I was at IMPE, one of Sarah's friends came by to say hi, and she kept giving me looks, which I note only because it is so unusual. But then she was talking about the type of guys she liked and said, "Oh, you know - dark. Brown hair, brown eyes." Mm-hmm. She then made it a point to add, "Yeah, not the blonde hair, blue eyes guys, all pale and stuff. They're like albinos to me." That would explain the looks.

Shelly and I watched half of the "Trading Spaces" $100,000 episode (because no one passed on to me the fact that it was two hours long when I was ordered to record it), followed by Disney Channel and foosball. Luck was with me for a while; I got dangerously close to beating her once, but like I said, that was just to build suspense. Of course the Mighty Ducks had to win. Coach Bombay wouldn't have it any other way. And then I started screaming about Pacey making the final shot and ramming the walls of the table pretty much every three seconds. Diversionary tactics still don't work.

Walked her home, crashed a bit after that (I fixed AIM so I can receive files now, much to Lis' intense pleasure) and up for stupid journalism. More Thin Red Line references; I am amazed that he can do it every time. Why do I go? Pity, I suppose. Finished off Shelly's M&M cookies and now it's about time for stats, followed by work, followed by rut rut rut rut rut. Er - excuse me.