04/10/2004 - 4:16 p.m. | only this time the sugar hits you in reverse

If you compared the time of the posting of this entry with my schedule at Campus Rec, you'd prolly notice that I am, in fact, not guarding Kenney Gym right now. I apologize. I did go for a while, but instead of the usual open gym thing, there were just a lot of people learning how to bump and grind to some thumpin' music. And fine, I'd prolly even sit there and guard that, too, except that they already had somebody else doing that job, and the person I was supposed to be working with didn't show up, and I was feeling waaaaay too extraneous, even for this job. Besides, I have.... studying to do.

I can assure you right now that no studying will be done today. Shit.

The previous entry was posted at around 4 or something, so I was getting good and ready to go to sleep, but then Kyle and Michelle came back from like 6 hours of not doing TAM to make frappacinos so they could stay awake for another 3 or 4 hours and not do TAM. They seem to both think I hate them, so I had to prove them wrong by watching hours of bizarre children's shows with them. We were just going to do the usual VH1 thing, but I stopped on TLC because of some penguin puppets. One of them was wearing a pot on his head, which he started frantically beating on with a spoon. I sprinted in here in an effort to capture that in mpeg form forever, but I was just a little too late. This sparked the aforementioned three hours of children's shows because they would intermittently switch back to the penguin thing, and with children's fondness of repetition, I was hoping they would show the same thing again. No dice, meaning I'll have to get up at like 4 everyday now until I have that shit captured. Anyway, the shows were amazing. There was Brum, this tiny British schizophrenic car (he heard voices) that snuck out and drove around rescuing overactors through questionable means, and the Hi-5 who sang and overacted as well and the one seemed sort of hot, but I was really, really tired. There was quite a bit more, but my brain had a pretty tentative hold on details by then, so I loped into bed.

Then I loped back out. Seems like mostly the afternoon was wasted away in sitting, which isn't much to talk about. Sometimes I get really creative. OK, mostly just in making fun of people. Like, Shelly just kind of leapt in on a conversation, seemingly without having heard any of the previous discussion, so I started on this whole shtick where she would interrupt with inane stories. For instance, "One time, me and Abby were riding four wheelers, and we found this turtle by the side of the road, and I wanted to name it Henry, but she didn't want to name it that because she said it might be a girl." If I could bring this up to an art, I'd be so pleased. Also, and Dank and I were discussing this, if I could be Timothy Olyphant in The Girl Next Door, which I have not seen but still know a lot about, it would be pretty cool. Would you like to see it?

Anyway, there was so, so much waiting to do that which must not be spoken of. Of course, I have the least to do of everybody, but by the time everyone was nearly ready, I had to go work at Huff. Luckily, they came along a little later, and we did the unspeakable in the creepy cement basement office (with all the huge roaches and dusty chairs and shit). I know I'm being vague, and in the vagueness, we sound sort of gay, but believe, it is still better than the whole truth. I made a nametag. It made the time pass a lot faster, though. Man, I've been writing this entry for a long time, and it seems like I'm still getting nowhere. I blame Janet, the cute girl from Hong Kong I've been talking to. I really want to ask her about any changes that may have occurred since the British gave up control of Hong Kong in 1997, but it seems like such a weird thing to ask a person. I don't even know why I know that.

Since I'm (hopefully) making a new loaf of banana bread, I decided to try the one I made on Friday. Of course, I don't actually like banana bread, so it's a tough call, but I think it turned out all right. Nate Walsh is baker supreme! To kill the hours before Szczesniak's party, I trolled though another horrible gallery of user-submitted stupid pictures of gross shit and "ME IN GERMANY" and whatever else and sang and started pregaming a little bit. I guess I was maybe singing a little loud, and I could hear Kyle and Shelly discussing in the living room, and I assumed it was about how awful I was, but they actually came out and told me how awesome I am. It's like... strange. Pre-emptive strike.

Shelly decided she was probably drunker than she'd ever been. Off to a good start. Take some Ultra Pep Backs! That'll fix you right up! It took us a long time to get out the door, and a much, much longer time to actually make it to the party. First, we made like a half hour stop in Kyle's car to sing Old 97's and some old 90's hits. HAHAHA See the connection there? And no, we didn't drive - we aren't dumb - we just sat and sang. And it was amazing. Once we got out, we started the trek to Eric's, with lots and lots of stops to climb trees and rest against various stone structures and roll on the grass because both Kyle and Michelle are the fall down type of drunks. Actually, Michelle is only partway fall down; she is also the super-affectionate type. Her hand left our hair like ten minutes total all evening. And the hugging and the random pecks on the head, etc. Better than being angry, though! I don't know what type I am, besides the obvious "throw up on homework" type. I seriously doubt the psychological effects sometimes.

The party was actually pretty sparse, but I had a lot of fun. Michelle and I danced a lot, with the unspoken agreement that my pelvis would never approach her behind at all. At the most, we mashed asses together, which I think is just funny. Actually, I was pretty damn social for me, I think. Liz and I had some sort of shoe fight and an ass shakin' contest, and I talked to Lynn about her lousy auction date, and I met this girl Amanda who asked for my screenname (now scrawled on her forearm in huge letters) because I bake banana bread, even if I'm not as cute as Nolan. I met this guy from Columbia who said he could breakdance, but I think he may have been lying, because he wouldn't demonstrate, even when I offered him all the money I had ($1.37, incidentally). Somehow, Imran showed up with his friend Erin, and I like to think I at least amused them for a while. So, yes, for a while, it was good, but as it got later, people started pairing off (or attempting to anyway) and making out, and I just sort of sat there and thought about it. I've been trying hard to become the person I really want to be, and I always assumed that would mean that this would involve some sort of confidence with women. But, then I thought, I do have confidence; it's just not the type I expected. If you want to hook up, you have to take it dead serious, and you can't giggle or act stupidly, and I like those things very much. I like being friendly and dumb, and I guess I don't care so much if that never gets me anywhere. So maybe I'm closer to what I want to be than I realize.

Still, I wasn't prepared to stand around and watch other people go at it, so at a quarter to 3 I decided to head out. I would've have gotten Michelle and Kyle, but someone had placed a blanket over them on the bed they had been talking on, and I did not want to find out what was happening underneath. I was mostly sure it'd be nothing, but you know that feeling when you see a brother and sister making out? OK, you probably don't, but it's not comfortable. And I'm starting to equate things in my mind. I walked back, got some chips and nasty ass salsa con queso (what is it with me and pseudo-Mexican food?) and watched the bad side of the Disney Channel for a couple hours.

Now I can understand why my dad might think me an ingrate. Last week, I asked if he could send me a check to help out with bills some, and he seemed a little perturbed. The reason I asked, however, was that I asked for help nearly a month ago, and I just sort of assumed he had forgotten. Nope. Turns out the check just got here today, postmarked in mid-March. So yeah, I could see being a little pissed at the son who somehow pissed through a few hundred bucks in less than a month.

I missed a phone call while riding to "work" today. It was an unknown number, so I called it back. "Taco Bell at the mall, can I help you?" "Uhhh, wrong number." OK, how the hell does Taco Bell have my number? Why are they calling me? Quickly, I ran through the possibilities. Well, I didn't apply there. I didn't write that particular Taco Bell a letter of complaint (and I never sent out the one for the place on University). I don't think I eat quite enough tacos for me to have become some sort of special case. I'd call back and ask them, but I seriously fear the outcome. I don't want to be a chalupa.