01/03/2004 - 7:08 p.m. | i am an evangelist.

Almost time for "Loveline," and as much as I have tried, I just cannot abide sitting here (Freer) alone and listening to it, so the last leg will be spent fixing typos on stupid laptop keyboard.

As much as I very much like sleep, it was amazing how much more I got done yesterday when I did not. Of course, then I was exhausted by like one, so the system remains flawed, and will continue to remain (yes) until I become some sort of restless god. But anyway. I am so used to being a "psyc" major (this is not entirely true yet, as I have not officially declared myself one yet, which it seems I may need to do tomorrow if I want to register for summer classes) that anything besides psych is just sos foreign and weird. I mean, in all my other classes, I've learned that there can be a certain degree of fudging on my guesses, and I will usually be right. For instance, there was a question on an abpsych test about gender and suicide, and I just guessed the most sexist thing possible (more women try, but more men succeed) and was right. In biopsych, it is harder to do this. "Which substance is both a neurotransmitter and can give rise to the neurotransmitter norephederine?" Uh........... Schizophrenic? So yes, a little less satisfied with this test than the others, but they are all done now, and I am more or less projectless until spring break, when I will still be projectless but also alone.

MY POINT IS, I got a lot of stuff done. I rearranged my room (I'm sorry, kids, but Avril has had some serious space cuts. She's down to just one wall... but cute construction paper animals are up with the possibility of more to come... when I get brown paper). I started hassling pretty much everyone in the world about getting a prescription filled because I am sick of being such a greasyass. In an effort to shrink a large shirt down to wearable proportions, I boiled the motherfucker like ten times. No dice yet, but I have perseverance. Both Kyle and Spritz walked up to the stove to see what I was cooking in the big pot. Oh... a yellow shirt. Of course. This makes sense to me, but I guess some don't understand. I forget. I called about my possible ONE MILLION DOLLAR sweepstakes entry, thereby getting myself put onto every telemarketing list in the whole world (I've already had one 20 minute conversation about the quality of my cable provider, and I'm thirsty for more! At least someone wants to talk to me!). I took a stand against unicycles... in my AIM profile. OK, that's sort of weak, but you just wait 'til I make t-shirts. I got locked out of the apartment while trying to give Dank a camera, so I hung out there for a while, barefoot and wearing no undies under my jammie pants, which I liked to point out frequently. I also began my probe into the world of Scientology, starting by sending off my personality test for them to analyze.

The majority of the afternoon was spent making another Oscar replica (dollar twenty nine, bitch!) and taunting Kyle as he failed at Street Fighter over and over. My goal was to get him in a blinding rage, but I had to leave to go watch "American Idol" at Dank's. Darn it. Couldn't stop singing the robot part from Ruben Studdard's "Sorry 2004" while Dank couldn't stop singing the "American Family Insurance" song in the most wretched way possible. Then, like a hundred billion props to the amazing white fellow Jon Peter Lewis. Despite his assassin's name, he was simply amazing. He's not a really good singer - but then, no one seems to be this season - but he started dancing as he sang Elvis' "Little Less Conversation," and it was the most wonderful thing in the world. He took like every drunk white guy and superconcentrated it into this ultimate dance, and he did it on live TV in front of millions... twice. And he wouldn't stop! He just kept flailing around and looking like an adorable ass and wow. He is everything I would want to be if I got on that damn show somehow. I was not planning on voting, but he must win this competition because until I get a band, the world needs someone like him.

Stupid Oscar took forever to finish, but it does look marginally better. Breaks for Late Nite and watching Brytne attempt to get anywhere at the damn "Lion King" game. We were supposed to watch a movie, but Kyle had his Uniball, and Brytne had to study, and I was tired, so fuck that. I think my new favorite hobby is giving Michelle crap on AIM. She's been sort of spoiled by all the studs that try to bend over backwards for her, so I think it's good to remind her that there are many of us who like being vague and obnoxious and unresponsive. Actually, we three shall be the three perfect roommates for her, I think. Give her some grounding. And we all need that.

Today, while crossing the guard in the morning, the lady I work with's (sad I do not know her name, right?) daughter and her friend came out of the car giggling and acting all coy and shit. They wanted to meet me because "they liked my hair." Funny how I can only attract women from fifth grade and under. Back in fifth grade, this was fine and dandy, but I have no desire to be a creep now. "But Nate," you say. "You attracted that drunkoloid a couple weeks ago." Well, friend, with all the sauce she'd had, she was down to about a third grade intellect. Today I did sleep.

In abpsych today, we were supposed to do this thing to simulate auditory hallucinations. We were divided into groups: One person was supposed to read a list of various tasks for a subject to work on (adding numbers, following instructions, remembering things, and so on) and then the other people were supposed to whisper things into the subject's ear to try and make them screw up. Of course, my group was too cool for that shit, and since I was stuck in the subject role, I couldn't do anything about it. One guy tried for a while by being especially homoerotic, but he obvious does not know who I have been living with these last few years, and the guys just stared. *sigh* Just sing or something. Three people shouting different Cher songs at me would've totally been a mind fuck. I'm just tired of apathy sometimes. Unless it's my own, of course, because I am a huge hypocrite. When some people came to look at the apartment, I was perching in front of my computer, watching "Kim Possible" and eating ramen from a cup, and it was so sad.

Last weekend was kind of a cinematic weekend, and this one's gonna be a musical one. Tomorrow night, I'm definitely going to Cowboy Monkey to see that girl's band, as well as the main act, who sound like they'll be really cool. If you wanted to spare me the bike ride, you could come to, but I do not expect it. Saturday, I bought tickets for everyone to go see the Other Guys, but it appears that now I will be the only one not able to go. Have to work at IMPE. I sent out a request for a substitute, but I have a better chance of selling them my ticket, so I tried that, too. :) I figure at least having some stranger sit with my friends will sort of freak out all parties involved.

Work has been especially boring because I have tried not to read too much, so I won't get a headache. I mostly sit and listen to the various radio hits until I want to explore. Subconsciously, it seems, I started drawing on myself. This became quite a grand affair after a while: arms, hands, legs, tummy, everything. More than a few looks when I didn't notice someone coming in time. But now I finally have an excuse to exercise: Gotta give myself a firmer surface to draw on. Stupid chubby stomach. And then, of course, the hours of attempted removal with the little tiny alcohol pads. There are about fifty in the garbage; they're gonna think I tried to get drunk off of them. I have not been shaving, and it is gross.