03/06/2004 - 6:32 a.m. | throw more knives... ALL THE TIME

Riding a second wind is sort of like riding a twister (Pecos Bill did that shit, right?); you never know when it's going to give out from underneath you. I guess God decided we were Square again today because He made it a hell of a lot better than the day before. Today was mostly spent trying to get done with a bunch of errands that I had meant to do yesterday, but the weather was pleasant if windy, and I was sure as hell cute, I think.

Kyle lent me his bike for a while until I can get mine in some sort of true working order (which should be easy now that my dad called and confirmed that what I was doing is right), and it's taken some getting used to. For one thing, I don't think he has ridden at all, so I had to wear in the brakes so that the sparks they shot out weren't quite so likely to spark an inferno. The thing is, the bike is so light that it blows over in the wind. And it's really tiny, too. I mean, I usually stand when riding my bike, but on Kyle's, I pretty much have to because it is designed for deformed trolls and sitting makes pedaling a huge chore. Speaking of which, apparently I can't stand anything lower than the very highest gear. Good old shit bike made me into a man.

I meant to get started on my errands a little earlier, but we all know how sleep dominates and then Kyle and Shelly came back (from, uh, not turning in their homework, it would seem) and there was some distraction, and I really have to be careful here, don't I, because I can lead myself on some pretty pointless tangents if I'm not careful. Anyway, I feel like I accomplished something, which obviously must sound like lies to all of you real people out there. I was describing the communications job fair last night: They gave me my hobo-stabbing knife.

Today is Unofficial St. Patrick's Day on campus (because next Friday is the Engineering Open House or something, which will make it the Unofficial Unofficial St. Patrick's Day. And, of course, there is the actual, real life St. Patrick's Day, so all-in-all, three more excuses to get plastered early), so the winners are out in droves. And in green! Man, I keep seeing this one girl over and over in all these different situations, and she seems very familiar, but I cannot place her. I only wonder, "Why can't she be the cute Laura in green I would like to see all the time?" Fuck off. Anyway, I went to the Union to get Justin and Lisa's Ben Folds tickets, and while waiting in line, I noticed this really, really drunk guy (keep in mind that it's 1 pm) trying to keep his balance... in a chair. And then he throws up all over himself. Everyone else was sort of shocked, but I gave him the laughter I felt he had earned from me. Congratulations, dear boy. And then the flabbiest, skankiest beer slut lurched over to get him. All of my stereotypes are confirmed. After I got the tickets, I walked past the men's room and could hear the drunken screaming Lil John phrases back and forth. Finally, a trend I can agree to.

The nice thing about my afternoon crossing guard shift is that the sun is aimed right at me then, so I get to bask and ignore the stupid cars full of girls that honk at me - not because I am Mr. Hot obviously, but because I am a crossing guard, and they are sarcastic and cool like I wish I could be in their position. Right?

Funny how the time passes. Pretty soon I had to go work a shift at Huff... or did I? Fate just gets weird. I got there, and the days were locked just like they always are when I go anywhere, so I called IMPE to have someone come over. That's when I noticed the sign that had fallen on the ground. Something about the fire sprinklers being tested today, dunno. On the way back, I saw a very fucked up looking Angel Santizo and a very gay looking Marty McCormmick. In my mind, I have at least one-upped them. Arguments? Anyway, as much as I would have loved to be in there when it started drizzling, some calls were made, and I got off in time to see Starsky & Hutch, which was so much better than it could've been. I actually could recommened it in some manner. It had some pretty bizarre jokes in it, and I think Vince Vaughn is really cool (which reminds me of Clay Pigeons which reminds me of Old 97's which reminds me to SING!!!) Oh, and I was dealt my second hand of fate when I got a free chocolate custard at Culvers along with my meal. I do not particularly like custard, but the gesture is much appreciated, and anything is an improvement, I would think. Shit. I just recalled that I have to revise a lab report for Monday and that I also have a test that I do not have a book for. Thinks for a moment. Moves on.

Yousaf and I had to wander through Will's frat blindly to try and find him. Somehow, this worked. Who's up for going out tomorrow? Hmmm - does that include me? This is kind of being bumped out of chronological order, but I'm covering most of the stuff I intended to, so deal with it. I can't believe we played shitty Mario Kart for so long. WALUIGI doesn't make a damn bit of sense, and it really angers me. I mean, Wario is fine. W is an upside-down M, so anti-Mario. I get it. And then they... I don't even know what they did, but it does not make sense as an opposite evil naming system. I would be Wanathan. NO. We watched Mitch Hedberg. "I don't have a girlfriend; I just know this girl who gets really mad at me when I say that." Or something along those lines. Forget, I wasted it. Apparently, I do not have the power to be amazingly brilliant and funny when zonked out in another world. Dank gave me some parting Chef Boyardee spaghetti and meatballs because he hates the little pieces of, uh, meat. What are they made of, he wonders.

Anyway, I watched Kyle play "Street Fighter," which is always a thrill, until Michelle called, and we got supplies to bake a firefighter-themed cake. For reaons beyond your comprehension (e.g. they only have fire truck toys at Schnucks). I watched Runaway Jury again. Now, seriously. Why do I do that to myself? There are so many different movies out there, and I take my time watching mediocre ones several times over. I just don't understand. Our cake turned out pretty fine (pictures?), Michelle ate like a pound of frosting, and then we watched lousy infomercials for a while. Man, that penis growth pill fake talkshow one is amazing. Apparently, the damn pill does everything - length, girth, stamina, performance, confidence, mind control, etc. And then Maroon 5's "This Love" video like 5 times, only convincing me further that I'd better hit that shit. I'd clean this up later, but then it would still sort of suck, so I'd have less of an excuse now. And yes, right now, I would really like to go out, but you can obviously see my state. Read my state. I can never tell if you're serious or joking. How ironic is that?

The punchline of every comic should be punching a girl in the stomach.