02/27/2004 - 10:37 p.m. | i believe in love... but it don't believe in me

Yesterday was one of those days where everyone spoke in all caps in my mind. For instance, I was crossing the guard as usual, and lately I've been having these confrontations with this Mexican guy who apparently really wants to run over some children. If I don't directly look at him, wave the sign a little bit, and scream, "PARATE! PARATE!" (That would be Spanish, not a misspelling of "pirate"), he tries to run me down. So I figure his thought process was something along the lines of "NO YOU SHALL NOT IMPEDE MY PROGRESS NOT FOR TWO SECONDS NOT FOR ANY SECONDS NOT EVEN TO PROTECT THE LIFE OF A CHLD ESPECIALLY NOT TO PROTECT THE LIFE OF A CHILD I MUST ARRIVE AT MY APPOINTMENTS I HAVE AFFAIRS TO ATTEND TO." And so on. I do it with a lot of people, too, but they start to get sort of vulgar, and I know you people can't stand the vulgarity, so I give up.

In class, I read and try not to let the annoying "lecture" distract me too much. Out of class... I'm not sure what I do. Sleep. Or come up with half-assed plans I quickly forget. Example: Become expert at shoe grinding. Yes, that's already forgotten. Stupid waiting for bus girl has been there two days in a row now, which means awkward silence aplenty. Can't even sing then. Darn it. But today little artfag girl had a bandana on, and it was adorable. I hope she turns out all right. I can't do much besides protect her from the Mexicans, though.

Working at Freer is sort of like working in the pits of hell. Just temperature-wise, of course. I'm sure Hell has a lot more things for people to do there. Anyway, the heat I can tolerate, but it gives me a pretty nasty headache, and the immense pile of random junk food I brought with me couldn't have helped. Andy Capp's cheddar fries, chocolate milk, strawberry fruit snacks, and a giant Rice Krispies bar, and all I can taste is those damn fries. At least it makes me regular. Pooping once a week (at Freer - only at Freer) is normal, right?

Man, what bad luck. Dank called right around the middle of my shift and told me that the cute girl from the theatre was at Schnucks right then and there. If I didn't have so much darn responsibility, I seriously would have shot over there to, you know, fail to ask for her number. Being weak-minded is not supercool.

Kyle and Brytne came to "do homework," but we all know what a futile effort that was going to be. Typically, me being around provides Kyle with a willing audience, and thereby even the smallest chance that he is going to do something besides be loud pretty much shoots down the drain. The latest craze includes his series of impressions that, while not all that good, are self-explanatory. "Rrrrarrrarararararrrrrarrr! I'm Teen Wolf!" Fuckin' right you are! Also, new old catchphrase is "nice and G," but I am unwilling to tell you what the G stands for. During my hour of downtime, we went to Busey-Evans, which is still a huge ripoff these days, but on the way there, I saw this girl with the most amazing legs ever. And she knew it, too. I'm glad that she knew it, too. I am so excited about Rhett Miller.

Kyle dropped me back off at work, so I could lock up and stuff, and he and Brytne went to the library. Unfortunately, I guess the building got locked, so I was trapped for a while. Really makes me wish I had that grappling hook sometimes, but the last thing I need is to be caught breaking into Freer of all places. I could at least try for some place respectable... like Hardee's. I tell you, man, people have no respect. They just will not leave the damn gym on time. And yeah, I could get it across to them, but for them to truly understand, I would have to be a psycho. And that doesn't win the hearts of America. Which has been my obvious goal the whole time.

Journey home and then back out for mediocre, mediocre bubble tea with Spritz and Michelle. They accidentally gave me stupid strawberry-watermelon, and I did not like it so much. I tried to be non-distracting while they worked on their TAM, but unfortunately, Ricki Lake had "Miss Drag Idol II" or something on, and it was all sort of downhill after that. There was not one truly good drag queen on the show. Well, I guess they might have been good drag queens, but they were not good ladies. I swear, me as Avril could have swept the competition. Which isn't saying a ton when you consider the jiggly beast trying to cartwheel to "Car Wash" in a one piece, but I have to earn my respect somehow, right?

Hours passed, and I more or less kept Kyle from doing his TAM the whole time. I tried to point this out, but he seemed to enjoy having the excuse and wouldn't let me leave. We read some issues of the Phillipino FHM he got from his parents. Much more boobs and talk of "man-paste" within. What else? Tennessee Ernie Ford and Ben Folds and some hotornot and very little accomplished overall. Finally, they started to actually work some, and I collapsed on the couch for an hour, waking to Kyle saying in a gravelly voice, "Get in the mini-van." This never ceases to amuse.

Cross guarding in a stupor, then a long nap and more cross guarding. Spritz and I went to get our hairs cut, and apparently Mariann who used to work there and who I liked is now gone. Wahhh-wahhh. Instead, I had HamBeast from before who doesn't listen when I say no shaving and just shears it all off anyway. Anyway, Spritz decided (and I am inclined to degree) that I look sort of Irish punk. Ewan McGregor from Trainspotting-ish, which might require a return of the accent. Spritz and I went to the mall, him looking for suitcase, me for cool CD thing that I found online and would like to now get but never have any mode of transportation. I got some tacos!!!

I meant to do... something this evening, but Kyle and Brytne are out, and Dank and co. are seeing a movie I did not much want to see, so I'm just sort of spacing. Spritz vanished and was replaced by Bash, which is weird. So we played Mario until he realized that he had both cell phones (his and his brother's) and ran home. Man, what a suck entry. Better post it.