11/18/2003 - 1:10 a.m. | oh, fick.

Once again, my eyes are itchy. This alone is not so much of a problem except that I always scratch them and then they hurt and are all deformed and puffy. Perhaps you might wager a guess that the root of the problem, the itchiness, is caused by my recent effort to tan my pasty hide. If anything, I think the opposite is true. My eyes always seem to get itchy after I've stopped tanning for a few days. Apparently I've gotten so used to it that I need to pump cancerants into my body just to make it function correctly. Also, kill the bedbugs.

As I've mentioned in the past, I've joked that if my bike manages to survive the winter, I would give it a major overhaul in the spring - paint, brakes, chain, everything. I was sort of planning to do this anyway, but the odds my bike survives grow slimmer by the day. Apparently, yesterday's post-coital kicking left my bike in a sorry state. The chain cover was in a lousy spot so the right pedal just kept grinding it over and over. Meanwhile, my bell came loose at about the same time, so whenever I ride anywhere, I emit a serious of terrible rattling explosions along the way. I'm sure people think my bike will send a hail of pieces soaring their way any second. So, I pulled over and did the only sensible thing I could: started kicking the shit out of my bike again, this time in the other direction. Of course, I would use a more precise device like a hammer, but among the piles of tools I have, there is not one hammer (I give my dad crap about this because I feel it is necessary. Also, I am a horse's ass). Yes, I got some looks. I just smiled and kept kicking. "How ya doin'!" Then, I just ripped the bell right off the bike and tossed it on the ground. Ding! One must know how to create a scene.

(Then I picked up the bell and brought it home with me. One must also know how to clean up after a scene as well)

Journalism ranks are thinning with each passing period, and I can't imagine why. Perhaps Dr. Insane-O could explain it in one of his long speeches that don't teach anything (and that's if he manages to complete his sentences, which he often times doesn't). One girl was pretty except for her hairy, hairy neck. AIEEEE. Make sense, nature! Damn you! I think I have hives?? (Hate to say I told you soooo...) Anyway, I think Maggie McFadden likes to show off or something because whenever she hands us rewrites back in lecture, she always grades much harder on us, prolly just in case Dr. Insane-O checks to make sure. "Are you being enough of a bitch to Nate and Zimos?" Yes, sir!

While Will told me about the aforementioned antics, I aruged with Nessers about pretention and the nature of artists. Ironically, I guess, I was also searching for the Buffalo Spingfield cover of "For What's It Worth" that Tim Kinsella's awful, awful band played at the show on Saturday. I dunno - the screaming and the overall ugliness of it sort of made sense. A bit. They still suck as an entity, though! I am not a hypocrite!

The hours passed by sort of fast - Disney, Nintendo, shower, on and on. And then it was time for work. It's a good thing I bought a magazine before I went because even reading the damn thing cover-to-cover (as well as the 2 plays for JLit), I still had time to spare. I got "Maxim Goes to the Movies" or some shit like that. I dunno - I haven't found a magazine that really caters to me yet. I don't like video games or music that much, boobs and guy things are annoying, gossip is pretty dumb, as is fashion, and I certainly couldn't choke down news or smart stuff. So I take what I can get. I took a movie quiz. I got 84 points (and I should've had like 90 points except for the ones I lost for knowing stuff about chick flicks). According to their scale, I am better than Spielberg. Hell yes, I am. I know the fucking Galaxy Quest logo when I see it!

I rarely suspect people of being robots, but I'm starting to have my doubts about the Kenney security guard. Every time we fold it, he always a) drops the one corner at the same point so that it touches the ground and we are supposed to burn it probably and c) always tells me to "pull real tight" on the third, entirely arbitrary fold. Come on, Matrix. You can do a little better.

The rest of the evening went by sort of quick, too. I can never tell white girls apart, so I keep thinking this one I see at Late Nite ISR with Kyle and Brytne is the same one I thought was cute (but probably wasn't) at Niket's party two times ago. She is not. I was supposed to watch some Japanese movie about the mafia with Brytne, but instead we watched Legally Blonde 2. Oh, to live in Elle Woods' world. Once I get Congress to start dancing by means of my fashion views, I am just steps away from being your king. Stupid blandly supportive Luke Wilson. Plans are being made, and I think I'm sleepy, and supposedly, they are coming to look at the place tomorrow at 10:30. Fuck them, frankly.