04/06/2004 - 2:09 a.m. | a considerably less good entry when i'm sober

Despite the nearly unanimous response to the question in... question ("Am I, Nate Walsh, a jerk?" VERILY I DO DECLARE THOU ART "I see... Have I found any gems?" THOU HAST FOUND GEMS "Great!"), it would seem that lots of people are still nice to me. Oops. For instance, Crossing Guard Mom (Boy, wish I knew her name!) actually brought me an application for one of the jobs she works at, as well as the number for a bar her husband might be able to get me an in at. Don't get me wrong; I am highly appreciative. It just almost... almost makes me feel guilty for any of my own rotten behavior. Obviously, I couldn't do anything like being nicer or whatever, but maybe I will start running. If I figure out how many calories I eat in a day and then run exactly enough to get rid of those calories, then I'll never change, right?

Before I could collapse again for a few hours, I read in great depth about the sexual behavior of male and female rats. I'm almost starting to miss stuff about the eyes. All this junk about mounting is just slightly disturbing to me. "For too long, he argued, experimental psychologists had been deriving 'laws' of behavior that reflected almost exclusively the peculiarities of the white Norway rat (and peculiar college sophomores)." Pretty much any time any scientific article makes even the slightest joke, I have to tell the world. What a stupid hobby.

Justin, Spritz, and I went out for Thai at the Y (Spritz concurs... sort of!), and then I made the stupid decision to rush back home to brush my teeth because I would much rather be nonsmelly and late than vice versa. In lab today, we were all about monitoring the sexual behavior of rats. I know, I should grow up, but I could not stop giggling. They just looked so silly. I don't know how they keep themselves occupied. "OK, I'm gonna smell this other rat! OK, now I'm gonna check to see if that wall is still there... Yep! OK, back to that other rat!" I think our own society would work a lot better if we behaved like rats. Male smells vagina, decides if time is ripe to mate or not, screws or ignores her. The end. It kind of sucked, though, because all of the rats were duds or something. Not sure who is to blame for that. The females weren't really very proceptive, but the males were pretty fat and retarded, so I can't really blame them. For the duration of this experiment, we all went into the rat colony, which is really small and eerily silent and red (because rats can't see red light and we can, it makes the most sense that way) and just sort of sat there for an hour and a half and watched rats screw around. Nobody really said anything, and I just got glares when I made some joke about playing some Barry White (as performed by Alvin & the Chipmunks) and additional stares when I started perching. At least I didn't have to fart. But, perhaps even worse, out of nowhere, I suddenly got the Replacements' "Attitude" stuck in my head and had to resist singing/dancing about wildly. When we got out, it was all hospital-y, and I rushed home to do some downloading. I mean purchasing.

While I waited for Justin to finish his baseball or shower or whatever, I got yelled at for being antisocial by Michelle. "We miss the Old Nate blah blah blah." [Unfortunately, there is no Old Nate. The Nate that you are currently experiencing is actually functioning well within the parameters of the Overall Concurrent Nate, and if you knew me at all, you'd get that. I don't change, and my reactions to various stimuli can be predicted. Swear to God. It would be, uh, You that Changed. I trust my instincts, for whatever reason.] And, it would seem that several hours later, I am still a jerk, so we've clearly learned what being considerate does for you. Kick to the groin! Ran off to The Buckle to officially sign on as an employee or whatever. The best perk so far is my 40% discount (want to buy like 20 watches!), but who knows how this whole commission thing is going to work out? I make $4 an hour base rate, and then I get a 3% commission on the stuff I manage to trick people into buying. So yes, in theory, selling some people a couple pairs of jeans will earn me like $8 an hour, but the flaw in the logic is that I am supposed to tell other people what they should be wearing. Have you seen me lately? Dress code is loose, at least. Only have to wear Buckle-brand jeans, and that's all I can fit in anyway. Spritz and/or Kyle came up with a great idea, though; just have Spritz buy as many pairs of jeans as possible while I am there working and then return them as soon as I get off. $100 an hour please. Eat it.

Justin got those intriguing Jelly Belly-coated chocolate candies today. While some obviously make sense (mint and whatever), grape and chocolate take some getting used to, and licorice and chocolate is some form of torture as far as I am concerned. Meanwhile, anyone daring enough to try the roasted garlic flavor Jelly Bellys? If so, report how instantly you vomit. I can't imagine the logic at that candymaker's meeting. Stop replacing the bottled water with absinthe. The rest of us only suffer. I finally got roped into some Dr. Mario, and the Devil provided me with just enough dumb luck that I got into it a little. Justin poured water on my head, and it's a damn good thing he went home because otherwise he would be pissing himself in his sleep right about now. He seemed annoyed. Was this my fault? No doubt.

Everything is a money pit, and I swear the more jobs I get, the less money I have. Perhaps because my parents have "faith" in me or some nonsense. Well, we'll show them, won't we? Guess who's about to start collecting rare Beanie Babies! I was OHSO tempted to skip Ben and just stick around Za's open mic night, but somehow I resisted the charms of the renegade lesbian and her punk rock quartet. How much of this did I just make up?

And how was the concert? The concert was swell. We had more than a few extra tickets floating around for various sucky reasons, but at least Justin and I ended up with decent seats. Could see and everything, even if the people in front of us were speed addicts and couldn't decide if they would prefer to stand or sit throughout the concert (everyone else in the auditorium chose "sit"). The opening act - David Berkeley - over-referred to his bandmates, prolly (as Justin suggested) because he felt bad that he was the name of their band. They were good and stringy, and the mandolin player was absolutely amazing. The dream lives on. Justin suggested I go for a more lucrative instrument, but I figure that guy's up on stage, so the market must simply be clamoring for skilled mandoliners. Ben was in a cool mood tonight - a lot less about the same old music (although there was some "Ultimate Sacrifice" for us hardcore fans) and a lot more about being bizarre and entertaining. Nobody knew his new EP stuff anyway. :P He made up lots of songs, played some Wham!, told stories, and was all around way too cute. I swear you could hear my wretched little laugh echoing throughout the building on occasion. The "Rent-A-Cop" song (which still seems strangely familiar) is my new favorite, even though "Hava Nagila" is all I have stuck in my head. I came up with some parody about it and Oprah's production company, "Harpo." What is going on up there?

Hassled Justin for that which we cannot have, and he left, and I've been talking to this adorable girl from Hong Kong who I want to be best friends with. She is like me in a lot of interests, but a girl, which is very, very confusing. And yet it makes a little sense, too, doesn't it? I want to be a girl from Hong Kong who wants to study Chinese medicine and puts "married but looking" in her Yahoo profile just to screw with people. I love you.