10/30/2003 - 2:19 p.m. | i'm too indie to have a nose

So, a little catching up to do, once I stop choking. OK, that's better. Work pretty much shot by, I guess. I dunno - I didn't have to pay all that much attention. Prepared questions for my interview, studied econ on and off, read some, read every conceivable thing I could think of online, etc. Brytne and Kitty stopped by to talk for a while (and brought me coffee!), and pretty much the night zoomed by. Except the ping pong club, who were slower than usual, so it was almost 11:30 by the time I got out the door (my time sheet needs to be adjusted accordingly - luckily, I have about 3 months until someone will stop by and collect them again).

This of course meant I was late to Eric Szczesniak's party, oh horror of horrors! I called Spritz before I had left the gym to make sure he was there. "How's the party, man?" "Balls, dude. Balls." And he was right. It was deader than I've ever seen it, giving it this overall pathetic quality. With the egotism only the truly paranoid have, I blamed it entirely on myself. I drank... something and have decided to never drink that particular something ever again. Especially out of a measuring spoon! For a while, Spritz and I just messed with the lame AMD refridgerator poetry, trying to make some sort of penis joke. We would have failed had Spritz not started lopping words apart with a knife and mixing letters. Good man.

Anyway, Spritz was the entire savior of this party, I can't deny. He, Liz, Duval (This is obviously not the correct spelling of his name, but I can't even guess it right on PH, so just pretend, OK?), and I were sitting sort of apart from the rest of the party when Spritz grabbed some cards and decided it was time to play us some strip poker. WOOOO!!! COLLEGE!! Except I've never played poker before, and I tend to immediately forgot the rules to card games as soon as I learn them (to make room for more song lyrics, I guess), and I tend to make sort of stupid bets, and I can't bluff, and yes - I was down to my skivvies faster than anyone. That's a little odd, you know. I don't walk around anywhere in just boxers, in case I should ever have a horrid mishap like Spritz did a few entries back. Horrid for others, I mean. Anyway, Spritz eventually caught up to me, but we were way too big of pussies to go full frontal. Meanwhile, Liz and Duval were even worse, pretty much folding every time. Other people started getting interested in playing (e.g. pseudo-lesbians), but then there was so much arguing of what game to play (STRIP BLACKJACK!) and spilling of drinks and most people were still way to reluctant to remove anything, so it was back to the original four shortly thereafter.

By the time we had finished, all the guys were in boxers, and Liz was down to her undies except she had no bra and was all whiny and ended up just flashing instead. I swear, I am fucking nun because I didn't look at all. It just seems, dunno, rude? Then, the three of them went sprinting outside, and Spritz's boxers were down, and that's two times now I've seen his penis, and I don't care what Dick Van Patten says, two is fucking enough. I was sober, and there was no way I was getting in the police blotter for that. Monkey suit or nothing, I swear.

Things sort of tapered off after that then, and apparently Duval doesn't know what sex is, but he has good timing, and then the four of us walked home. It was pretty cold out, but Spritz and I sat on the porch and watched not one, but two, street cleaners roll by in a big loop. At 2 in the morning. There is something hilarious about that. We stayed up and sort of talked for a bit, then I studied a little, set two alarms, and hit the hay.

Up in time, thankfully. Last minute studying, and the test was pretty much a blur. I did well on most of it, but there was this one chart I didn't get at all, but at most it is worth 15 points, so I'm not doing too badly.

Came back here to sleep, luckily remembering in time that New York is in a different time zone than here and getting up in time to call Maria Schneider. We talked for a while (I hope she didn't think I was too big of a cretin) and another issue is out of the way. During the middle of the conversation, the big foreign guy burst in our apartment and started screaming that sounded to me like, "BUCKET! BUCKET!" Apparently, he was here for pest control. Spritz and I both looked at him confusedly. In our underwear.

I spent the next hour playing this game, which I swear is perfect for the LAS lifestyle. I was using a dry erase marker to dry all over my monitor and figure out the right angles to always score. With time, I could be perfect. OK, no. I also applied for a job as an advertiser for the school dining service. Michelle was giving me crap, but then I found out what job she really ended up getting (as far as I can tell, collecting newspaper articles and putting them in a binder) and quickly began hassling her about it. "So, do they give you a binder or do you have to provide your own?" Somehow I got bored enough to read the Daily Illini comic archives. Turns out I do like one, though.

Spritz and I went out to lunch at Panera. My tomato raviolini soup was really good, but I totally got screwed on my "Limes With Orange" drink. It tasted exactly like Tampico, except that for the price I paid, I could have gotten 2 gallons of the stuff. Gypped. Afterwards, Spritz and I tanned, which would explain why I am so itchy right now. It seems I am allergic to the sun.

You know what I don't understand? Why girls wear shirts that are too short for them and then they spend half the time trying to stretch them down. You're a wearing a shirt that's too short, that's the very reason you got it. Now, why are you trying to hide what you are so blatantly trying to show off?

As far as the rest of the afternoon goes, I have to go out and buy costume supplies, go to Parasol with Lisa, go to a party upstairs, and maybe carve a pumpkin. But Nate, you ask, what about your 500 word article? Hehehehehehehehe! I think I can handle it.