12/21/2003 - 3:24 p.m. | i'm just here to hold your hand when you die

Fathead's been trapped in the apartment for a while. OK, perhaps not trapped, but I haven't too many other options when it comes right down to it. Kyle and Brytne were at work, Spritz left shortly after noon, and Dank was busy studying for his multiple Saturday finals (ugh - what terrible luck). I don't have the patience for many things right now. I tried playing Nintendo, but the games all make me want to punch walls, and I can only read for so long. I got so desperate as to watch Osmosis Jones on Cartoon Network. Not a very good movie, although Bill Murray did play a pretty good disgusting monster. And now, whenever I consumer something that I probably shouldn't (e.g. the fermented apple juice that's been sitting out on the counter since Friday night), I just pray to Osmosis Jones to fight the virus for me. Then, to assure that I had learned absolutely nothing about taking care of my body from the movie, I went to gas station and got the widest variety of shitty, shitty food that I could. Damn you, sour cream and onion. Why am I always convinced that you won't be ass?

I give myself little quests now and again to pass the time. Last night, while jamming to Missy Elliot (I wish I had some explanation for that), I went on a massive search for cardboard cutouts. Although the Christina Aguilera one is very tempting and I would probably end up dry humping the one of Natalie Portman's abs, I have decided that none can reach my impossibly high standards. There is a site that will make a cardboard cutout out of any picture you send into them for like $100. So, the plan is as follows: Get new computer. Get digital cable. Capture picture of Mongo from "Nick Arcade." Wait 6 to 8 weeks for eternal happiness. I really wish I had a picture I could share with you because that motherfucker tops my all time funny list.

Once Dank was finished with all his shit, I went over and, well, just sat there, too, I guess. I eventuallyy started playing some PS2 side scroller that he said was cute and easy. He was right on both counts, but I made it a point to continually refer to it as Sonic so that he wouldn't get too much pride. Yousaf and I went to rent some movies. He fell on his butt, which I am required by law to bring up at every available opportunity, and the remaining drunkos were out in full force. I wish I were one of them sometimes, ignorance being bliss and all. Because honestly, now more than ever, I have the capabilities. I could very well do it. I have come into my own, and the things that were plaguing me have sort of drifted back some. And yet, still no desire. I guess I was not made stupider yet.

We all met at Perkins (Kyle and Brytne inclusive), but I am pretty Perkinsed out, so I opted for nothing. The closest thing I could get to desire was for the damn baked potato, and the logical part of my brain set off some alarms when it saw I was thinking about it. "Saw I was" being a palindrome. I sort of unintentionally draggged everyone along for ice cream (yes, in the cold... I've heard all your comments). Same guy was working, even recognized us, I think, but no "mons" this time. He's learning. We dropped Kyle and Brytne off so they could get the van but told them to act wacky so we could set it to the Benny Hill music. It was golden. A few weak ass episodes of bad Nick game shows and then Dank and I sort of passed out. He went to bed after a while, and I just lied there, trying occasionally to get the energy to remove myself from the couch. Yousaf kept coming in later and later, offering to turn off the light each time. I knew he had work at 8:30, and it was getting closer and closer to 6, so I remember groggily asking him how he was gonna get any sleep. "I'm not," he replied. Now there's a man for you.

I woke up a little before 7 and decided I should really get home. Unfortunately, that would entail a danger adventure. I mean, the ice is scary enough when I am fully alert, but add in my incoherence and my spastic contacts, and it becomes downright terrifying. I kept trying to give myself a pep talk. Don't fall, don't get hit by a car. Don't fall. And I guess I didn't, and that's a good thing because with my energy level at the time, I would still be in the same spot, sleeping and bleeding / freezing to death.

I woke up at 1, showered, tanned, and now my stomach feels miserable because of shitty warm Pepsi, so I'm going to die for a while now. Man, for some reason, I had this terrible headache this morning. Damn Nickelodeon hangovers. Arg, my tummy.