05/16/2004 - 2:07 p.m. | her badly freckled skin could have been prevented

Admittedly, I have not very much patience sometimes, especially when Kyle and Shelly set their alarm for 10 (We're taking a roadtrip to Sheridan today, see), snoozed, didn't wake 'til 1, and then sat around doing God knows what with the door closed while I just kind of... sit here. So, my new favorite hobby is to confront them about their sexuality:

mrk r azy11: wtf, dude! Get in the shower! There'll be plenty of time for foreplay on the ride up. I'll put up the privacy curtain, and you can just go at it. I'll sing quietly up front, and everybody will have a good time, except for the station wagon's upholstery...

Needless to say, they deny everything, but Mr. X10 certainly says otherwise. Besides, I'm pretty sure Kyle isn't showering in his swimming suit right now anyway. Ew ew ew - picturing Kyle naked is one thing, but picturing Shelly being comfortable with Kyle naked is an entirely different one. Unless they are naked together. Gah. Aw, this is just getting sick. It's like cousins or something, dunno. Let's write about something else, shall we?

So... how are you? Not naked, I'll bet. Arg.

Mandolin status report: Still way too expensive. Solution: Check ebay, give up dream of music. Either/or.

Back when Kyle and Shelly were clothed, we all went out to Aldi and bought a lot of really cheap food at very low prices. Surprisingly, I'm a lot healthier when I'm poor. All I have is like fruit and juice and the like. Give me some money, and I'm like, "PUMP THE BUTTER INTO MY ARTERIES, PLEASE!" No, that's not me. Nevermind. Incidentally, listened to the City of Angels soundtrack. We live in a state of constant nostalgia.

When we got back, we did not shower, we did not clean, we did not do jack shit. We - well, they, as I could never willingly make a creation that amazingly unhealthy - made this bean dip. Um, let's see - can of chili, can of refried beans, a bag of shredded cheese, some Taco Bell sauce, and a fucking entire BAR of cream cheese. They did some calculations, and overall, there were over 200 grams of fat in this pot of amazing brown. And we ate nearly all of it. And, I mean, it was good... but it wasn't quite as good as something that is going to so quickly kill you should be. I didn't get that heavenly feeling one gets when you have a poorboy from Mirishka's [sic, no doubt] and it's all butter and ooze and death, and you know it's wrong, but it's the very, very best type of wrong. We watched Ghost World, which was still kind of slow and pointless, but which I still sort of enjoyed. I don't care what anyone says - Steve Buscemi is hot.

After a very sudden urge to make a t-shirt and the frantic follow-through to get the job done (Picture later!), I went to Dank's so's we could watch Arthur. His laugh was everything "The Critic" made it out to be, and I must get a recording of it very soon. It was actually a very cute movie, though, minus Liza Minnelli who is a demon from hell, but Dank and I agreed that Arthur needed to be drunk through more of it. Anyway, this entry is almost concise, isn't it? I guess because I feel like it's about TIME TO GO (I yelled that just now) and can't be expected to write forever. I am dressed very urban cowboy today, with matching shoes, belt, and watch and everything. Damn that Buckle, teaching me how to make "a look." I didn't even mean to. LET'S GO.