04/12/2004 - 1:39 a.m. | fell though the roof on easter night

Where are your time management skills, Nate? Dunno, a fucking goblin ate them or something. I shouldn't even be up writing this entry, of all the things I could be up doing, but it's hard to hold back progress, you know? Remember how I said I wasn't going to do anything yesterday? Yes, I did nothing yesterday! Paper to write, test to study for, and I watched movies and played SNES games at Dank's. "Nickelodeon GUTS" is the hardest game in pretty much the whole damn world; I just run into walls and lose over and over. I must gain mastery, I must. Meanwhile, Yousaf screamed at us about playing the Nightmare on Elm St. game until I wanted to hit him with a shovel. Instead, we beat "Turtles in Time." IN TIIIIIME! Sorry, my mind is less than focused because of how today worked. First, I tried to write as many pages as I possibly could, and then I tried to read as many as I could. That almost feels ironic, but I think I may be one of those people who uses the word without knowing what it means.

We watched the, uh, HDTV version of Gladiator or something on Yousaf's projector. The shadow puppets we made on the wall were still far more exciting. But oh, the resolution! Look at it! LOOK AT IT! Stupid movie. Then, we decided in a two-part effort to go see a movie and to take the life-sized cardboard cutout of Lindsay Lohan from the theatre. I do not particularly like her; hell, I don't like her at all, but I'm all about the conversation piece, am I not? I don't know how Avril Lavigne remains a conversation piece, but she does, and I am proud of her for it. Once I get back a little time, I'll piece together a new art project, I think,, but with 5 weeks left, even I may not have too much free time anymore.

For whatever reason, not many people wanted to see Ella Enchanted at 11:40 on a Saturday night. For a while, we were the only ones in the theatre, but then a few others showed up. Just enough so they could be annoyed by our screams at Anne Hathaway. She is very pretty and an OK actress, but man, I saw her on Leno once, and she is the dumbest person you can possibly imagine. Somehow, that leaves her with very few points left in my mind. The movie was cute enough, if not great, but even in a nearly empty theatre, there was no way we were getting out with that poster, even with our cunning plan (e.g. "Run"). Must I always form an audience around me? Damn my charms.

I very slowly connived myself into bed, doing God knows what in the meantime. Woke up at noon or so, and the next 7 hours were more or less spent writing my crazy rat vagina lab report. It sounds worse than it is... because I tried to make it sound that way. It was probably closer to 4 or 5 hours of actual writing, with frequent stops to shower or dance or eat stale banana bread or wander aimlessly. I tried to keep my mind on task by listening to lyricless music, but how I do love those bagpipes. Is it weird that I always want to salute during "Scotland the Brave" and that it always makes me tear up a bit? Weird Scottish nationalism. I don't get it. I think I did a pretty decent job overall on the report, but I always think that, and last time I got smacked around on it a little bit. "8 more graphs!!" Um, of what? "8 MORE!" Oh.

Kyle of the Explosive Hair came in to tell me about this As Seen on TV CD he saw last night. Apparently, they took like all the late-90s radio hits that we loved so much and stuck them on a 2 disc set. Funny how they're already playing on our sense of nostalgia, isn't it? Anyway, it worked - sort of - because while we certainly aren't going to spend $26 on this CD, it did prompt us to download some Better Than Ezra and 7 Mary 3. I don't really recall hearing the latter ever, but I wish I'd had because screaming out "CAN'T HOLD RODERIGO" is more or less my new favorite thing.

Today's favored away message (and possibly new t-shirt slogan) by some girl:
i would do anything to feel you holding your body against mine . . .
Eep.

I got finished just in time to make it to work, which I guess was cancelled again. I don't understand those people at all. There was some dodgeball thing going on, and I guess that automatically means you can be an asshole, I'm not sure. I tried very hard to stay and study for a while, but it got too tough. Never bothering to look at the text before today - never bothering to even buy the correct book until last Thursday - I figured I'd have maybe 60 pages of the same old big text garbage I'm used to. Nope. 120 pages of some of the most boring stuff I have ever read in my lifetime. Most of the time, I can at least build up some vague interest in what I'm reading, but occasionally something comes along that I can't tolerate at all. Walden was one of those things, and this is definitely another. My mind would immediately glaze over, and I'd start to pass out. I'd try to admonish myself, "No, man! Only... uh, 109 more pages to go." Seppuku. Still, I have a lot of hope because pretty much every paragraph I read was full of the most useless, redundant information I have ever seen. "Damage to portions of the brain cause detriments in function." Oh, I thought it would make more happy juice, you stupid fucking book. So, if it is all this intuitive, it'll be no big for the Nateman. Don't call yourself that. Good point.

I came home, and for whatever reason I got this horrible craving for KFC. Stranger still, everyone agreed that we should go. The grease pretty much kills me every time, so I planned on getting the all white meat strips. Spritz had other plans, though. Namely a bucket. Oh barf. 4 pieces of chicken, a huge ass tub of taters, and one Mountain Dew later (because I figure if you're going down, you'd better do it with nerd style. "Man, guys! I drank so much Dew last night!" Oh, just die.), I was about ready to hack up everything I've ever eaten. Actually, I'm still pretty much around that point. But yeah, that was about the closest thing I had to a nice Easter brunch.

I would kind of like to grow out my facial hair just to see how retarded and scraggly I could get it. Maybe I could be like that guy on "Dark Angel" who always had a two day growth of beard, no matter what day it is. Anyway, the problem is that I would have to first go through the horror that is a molestor mustache, and I don't really want to do that in public. If I could go into hiding for a week, I would, but until I quit all jobs, school, and socializing, I don't see a free week of isolation happening. Besides, it probably wouldn't grow in much thicker than it is now anyway, and that's just ridiculous. I just want to be Rhett Miller or some shit, is all. My face smells nice!!

Shelly announced her presence back, and I made fun of her. She got out of breath from eating ice cream, and I made fun of her. Just consider it, um, hazing, all right? I tried very hard to read for a few hours, but I'd get mad at how stupid the book was and toss it aside... for a few minutes at least. It's just like all those "funny picture" galleries I look through. They are always, ALWAYS shitty, and yet I have to keep going just in case I finally do stumble upon something. Anyway, I was more than happy to stop when Dank came over for the secret meeting, and now I am vaguely aware that I am screwed, but my brain is giving me a lot of endorphins because it is happy that I am not trying to make it read something so useless. However, we are still confused as to why I know all of the lyrics to Dashboard Confessional's "Swiss Army Romance." I would have thought my brain would ban that.

Tomorrow is going to be a long and hideous day. Cross the guard, last desparate attempt to study, ass test, errands and final preparations on the lab report, lab, work from 5 until 10. I shall be sure to give you lots of hugs. With knives. Man, I hate "Lloyd in Space." I'd be bitchy at him, too. And the popups that neither Google nor AdAware can get rid of aren't helping. Bitch, bitch.