01/06/2004 - 8:32 p.m. | bearing arms

I bet you thought there's no way I could have done anything in the last day that was worth writing a diary entry about. You're right! But, I'm just sort of coasting here until Yousaf gets online, so I can proceed to screaming at him about where I should buy computer parts from. My secret fear is that if I ordered them on my own, I would receive a box of widgets, and I don't even know what widgets are.

Have you ever wondered what Nate Walsh does in solitude? Not like, "Everyone's gone at class" solitude. I mean the real thing. I'll tell you what, I lead a quiet life. I woke up, cleaned EAT's fish tank out, picked up around the house a little, showered, cleaned my room, and read all afternoon, being slightly crippled by an awful headache. Pretty boring, I guess. Except for the exponential increase in the amount of time I spend talking to myself. I don't even know what I say; it might be interesting to find out, but that would require hidden cameras everywhere, and I'm sure the many naked girls would be offended.

My parents are already asleep, I think. They went up to bed about an hour ago. Even for them this is early. At least I have the knowledge of the Fruit Rollups in the kitchen to keep me going. I don't even need the physical product yet; the concept alone is intriguing. And I know this must all be terribly boring for you, but after so many years of only childhood, I've gotten very good at extracting entertainment from boring sources. On a completely different topic, my dad asked me if I wanted to go to a Serena High basketball game this Friday. Sure, why the hell not? It's not as though my calendar is packed with previous engagements! Want to go out Saturday and see Steve Sharp? Again, let's go for it! I'm so adjusted to spending time with people several times my age that it's just all part of the flow. Hell, I'd even go the freaking wake tomorrow if I didn't think wakes and funerals were so amazingly creepy. Death makes sense, rituals following death make sense, wakes do not make sense. "Oh, she still looks so alive!" No, she looks like a corpse with makeup on. It's just weird. My dad was telling me something the other day. You know the late Paul Simon? The senator, not the singer. Yeah, in hiw will or whatever, he had two wishes: 1) That he be buried in a simple pine coffin, and 2) That his service be very small, with just a few close friends and family. They couldn't find hime a pine box, so they put him in the usual super-expensive, elaborate coffin. How hard is it to find a pine box? I know nothing about manly stuff, and I'm pretty sure I could nail together a decent pine box. And then, his service was held at this absolute huge church. Over 3,000 people were there. He had two simple little wishes, and they pissed in his eye. I'm sorry, Paul Simon. I liked your bowtie.

I got a catalog for really strange, manly things today. I am so glad they've associated me with the right demographic. "If anyone needs a welding mask or calipers, it would be fucking Nate Walsh!" Although hidden amongst all the wrenches and tarps and shit, there is a replica Civil War era bugle for $12. Explain that, oracle.

To continue passing the time, I'm doing the usual run through of Avril posters. I know them all by title now - by TITLE - and yet I am still such a sucker. "Oh... This one's RARE! I'll have to take a look!" God damn it, it's the same one they have piles of at Wal-mart! They all say they are rare!

Except this one, which specifically denotes in the title that it is "Not Abercrombie." Well, that's a relief. A hardcore punk such as myself does not wish to sell himself out to the whores of Abercrombie and Fitch. He shall sell himself to the whores of Old Navy. Fuck you, if I don't wanna change my clothes. Save the planet!

Kyle, in typical fashion, IM'd me out of the blue with a list of Gameboy games he would like to own. I've tried to logic my way through this, and all I keep coming to is WHAT KIND OF INSANE BATFUCK PLAN WAS THAT?! 1) Better take the time to make a list of games I want and post it on the internet (FOR NO REASON) 2) Better send it to Nate! The mind reels. The most I could come up with is that perhaps I violated the Santa Clause and will shortly be turning into Tim Allen - and then Santa Claus! A horrifying notion. And don't even get me started on the Mrs. Clause! Then again, maybe making lists is the new cool thing to do? In which case, I want you to buy me hoverboard plans, damn it. Go to ebay and search for them. It is 2004, and if we're not cruising the skies of Urbana-Champaign now, we sure as hell will be soon. Buy helmets.