02/04/2004 - 12:57 a.m. | who should be separating who from whom then, hmm?

It's just impossible for me to sleep early, even when I know that it is now pretty much entirely necessary. "Nate," I say to myself (in a Scottish accent incidentally because it's becoming nearly automatic with me), "You've got to be at work tomorrow at 7:45, and you can't even force yourself in bed before 1." Damn right I can't.

There isn't much to tell today, which doesn't mean I won't tell it. Actually, maybe I won't. For one thing, I keep discovering mysterious wads of pubes in the shower drain. We had a quiz in AbPsych today, and I still don't like the way they write quizzes, but that's just me being whiny. Inserting little Scottish pleasantries here and there makes me sort of happy, as does the fact that the sort of chubby girl has what appears to be a mild infatuation with me, but sitting through an entire lecture and actually PAYING attention is just awful. We learned about bipolar disorders today. The video about the depressed woman was the most mundane thing imaginable; perhaps I would be depressed too if I were the most boring creature on the planet. And if I didn't take the medication. Ha ha ha. Meanwhile, mania seems like it'd be really entertaining... at least if a friend had it. I decided today that I would like to learn how to read palms because it might come in handy. OK, no.

I would like to steal some paint, and yet I abstain. I rode to the police station in good time to officially become a crossing guard. I got my sign (which lights up!) and my vest and rain slicker, and I think one of the ladies in the personnel office was making fun of me while I filled out my rather confusing W-2 forms. Luckily, everyone finds the little Scotsman much more charming than Nate Walsh. The ride home was sort of hell because I had the huge sign stuffed down my coat, and apparently wheels just weren't enough to make it over the snow. Solution? Stop whining.

I read and tried to get back into UO, but I keep dying at inopportune times, and I've read that losing lowers my testosterone, and what do I have then? Estrogen. And what does estrogen cause is gross amounts? Cancer. Fucking right. I keep kicking over this box of pens over and over. I put them back in the box and then I kick them over again. Some sort of metaphor should be made, but I'll leave it up to you.

Went to Dank's for "American Idol," followed by "Frasier." Based on the episode I saw, not only should they never have received an Emmy, everyone involved with the show should be bludgeoned to death with stones. "Scrubs," meanwhile, is perfect. As was the way that Will woke up Yousaf - a series of pathetic screams and wild pounding at the door while screaming about Frasier. Will and I decided that we would go see The Perfect Score with Kyle and Brytne, but after waiting like ten minutes outside for them to come (With one break to knock on the door randomly and have a very confused, dirty Yousaf come answer it), we decided to walk and meet them. Timing was just perfect to watch them zoom by and then flail around on the ice in desperate pursuit. Will's hands got sweaty, which is code for he fell over. We ran back to meet them, and hopefully by now Will's body has mostly recovered from the ordeal. Kyle's car makes a death scrape at times; just ignore it.

The movie was, well, what we expected. It's funny how Scarlett Johansson picked one really good movie to do and then one really bad one. She has boobs, though. And of course they all learned a valuable life lesson. And I learned that I shouldn't have made fun of the black guy for being worried about getting a 900 because apparently he could practically ace the math section, but those 100 verbal points would've just been too much.

I seriously needed a decent hat and gloves for work tomorrow, so we stopped at Meijer, but they apparently do not believe men are wimpy enough to need such things. Alternatively, maybe they don't bother making hats for anyone with as HUGE of a head as mine. Either way, we had to run to Wal-mart next. Everyone was all for me getting something extra hilarious, but I don't want to get beat up by a bunch of little kids. Besides, they didn't have any earmuffs at all. Or sour Jelly Bellies. We ran into Allen Wittman. There's a trifecta for you. God in heaven. OK, 1:26. I am satiated. Moreso that Keebler has given me a free box of cookies or crackers.