01/25/2004 - 3:35 a.m. | i'm a glowing ball of dick

Hello again, my friends. Welcome to the little storybook that is my existence. Today's adventure begins with me waking up in a stupor to a phone call. This is unexpected because I don't get phone calls. This is also besides the point.

I showered and ate some more of the stale pretzels that have been lying around since the dawn of existence. Justin and Lisa came buy, and we drove to Meijer for candy smuggling. Apparently this is amongst the hardest decisions in the world for everyone else, but I will take my Gummi Lunch thank you very much. Gummi pizza (with new gummi toppings!), gumma hamburger, gummi cola, gummi fries, gummi donut, gummi gummi gummi. Then I just ate jelly beans. And the Big League Chew Justin kept passing me and which kept making me giggle like a retard.

Anyway, we saw Monster, and it was probably the best movie I've seen all year. Of course, when you look at my usual taste in movies, this is saying nothing at all, but I promise that I can actually really tell the difference between good and bad, and I just usually choose bad out of spite. Still, really good movie. Christina Ricci was an adorable little lesbian, and Charlize Theron, usually so lovely and demure, was completely transformed into this grizzled old prostitute. I couldn't recognize her at all. Even her voice was different. I seriously think she deserves an Oscar for the role. Anyway, it was very good, if not much of an uplift. But that's what the rest of life is for, right? Right.

Then, like everyone else, I got sucked back into UO for hours and hours. I would love to tell you of all my little accomplishments and shit, but I can't imgine you caring in the least. Hell, I don't know how you care about this regular stuff. Time to download "No Myth" by Michael Penn. As should you. On the drive back to my place, we listned to one of the gifts I finally managed to get to Justin, specifically a CD by Crispin Glover, best known as George McFly in Back to the Future. What an awful, awful, great album. I mean, it's all so weird, and the rhymes are so basic, and he sings about clowns and masturbation and Mr. Far. If anything, you should at least try and find it. Something something concubine.

From out of nowhere Brytne asked if I wanted some wine. Now, I am pretty conscious of everything we have in supply, and I sure as hell didn't want any cooking sherry, so I said no. Turns out somehow - and nowhere is really sure of how - a bottle of really shitty (I mean box wine quality here!) burgundy showed up in our fridge. Although it has been theorized that the trolls may be trying to take us down, I give it a shot anyway. Bleh. Once you've had decent shit, heading back up the road is no picnic. A side note: Once upon a time, Justin misheard the lyrics to what I can only assume was Alice Deejay's "Better Off Alone," which is like some techno-y dance song and does not fit in my mind anyway. "Do you think you're a pharaoh, shalom?" Yes.

We finally headed out to Gautum's party at around 11. Compared to his place, Eric's is a fucking assembly hall, but I guess we made due. Kyle and Brytne left pretty early, and Spritz and Niket were off doing whatever, so it was mostly me and Elliot dancing to whatever assinine song came up next on the playlist. My, how I really do love it.

I dunno, man. I have this really weird form of fragile confidence. So, there was this girl there, and it may have been the girl from Niket's party way back when that Kyle wanted me to get with, and I had it from a pretty good source that she wanted some ass, and she was sort of cute, and she kept dancing with (and tonguing) all these different guys, but I swear to God she kept doing the whole eye thing again. I could be wrong - in fact, I probably am - but who knows how thngs would be different if I had actually asked her to dance? Or, as is more typically the case, simply run up to her, thrusting my crotch in her general direction. I just can't, though. I don't care if that's how it is. That isn't how it should be, and I just can't participate. They're like vultures, and among other things, I really do have some relationship issues, I think. Also, I'm deluded. As far as weird people to run into goes, Jenny Acosta was at the party with her boyfriend. There's a freak out for you. At least her mustache is gone.

Anyway, here's a shocker - while I was doing the usual spacing off thing, a girl actually came up to talk to me. Her name was Michelle, and she said I had pretty eyes, which is a first for me. "WHAT IF I WERE ROMEO IN BLACK JEANS / WHAT IF I WAS HEATHCLIFF, IT'S NO MYTH!" Anyway, I tried my very, very best to be entertaining, but it seems the rules go that I have to do the brunt of the talking, and this is very hard for me because I really don't think anything I have to say is important. And I'm sure she knows it, too, just like everyone does, that everyone's just talking to talk. And I felt really bad because I was saying dumb things, but I did try to be nice, and she seemed amused, but she was just sort of dragged off by her Mexican friends and that's the end.

I would've been happy staying a lot longer because the later it gets, the drunker everyone is, and the more likely it is that I'm not dancing entirely by myself. But Spritz wanted to come home (and scream Bryan Adams along the way, it seems), so now I'm sort of winding down. Balls, Nate. You need balls. I don't think I even want them. I've come up with this brilliant plan to be confident, except I always forget about it when I'm under the gun, so the next time this happens, how about we use some innoculous code phrase to remind me. Like, "Pass the corn nuts, asshat." That would do.