05/18/2004 - 11:56 p.m. | ritualistic (deviant?) behavior

"So, how were you feeling? I mean, really." Good one. Um, well, let's try. We did get out of here, but it took a very, very long time. This is mostly my fault for not indicating that "We can leave whenever" is actually code for "Before 3, God damn it!" I should just say what I mean. And it's not like we were really in a super hurry or anything - I just think punctually maybe. We stopped at an Arby's, so that while we driving later, with the windows down, eating roast beef, and listening to bagpipe music, I felt very content. Then I got a big under-the-skin zit, and my weekend was ruined. OK, maybe not, but I'm still sort of pissed.

Say what you will of Kyle and Shelly (Well, I certainly do), but they stick to the "Not Helmet" rule with impressive tenacity. Shelly mostly crocheted and slept in the back while Kyle attempted to read up front next to me. I feel like I should be vaguely insulted that they couldn't converse with me the whole time, except for the fact that it's so very often true of me. Maybe another only child thing. I took the one crazy back road to Seneca, past all the creepy factories and down the steep hill, across two railroad crossings with poor visibility and no gates. Just another one of the many places on my list I would feel it would be acceptable to die at. Hint: Hospitals are not on the list.

Gorging was more or less the order of the day. Tina was there, and so were my parents (Duh). If you ever make it to a Trader Joe's (blah blah affluent caucasians suburbs, etc), they have this excellent refrigerated guacamole. Cheap and delicious. Just like me. But, I am of the vague notion that Shelly (and especially Kyle) enjoyed it, as two packets disappeared in the space of an hour. My mom didn't want them to think that we Walshes were lushes, but I dunno how well we avoided that issue. Two things I think my parents are proud of me for: 1) Being able to tell between good and better bottles of moderately priced wine, 2) Knowing how to correctly run a phonograph. Andrea has the coolest part time job - she goes to the SIU school of medicine and acts like she has different sicknesses so that the students can diagnose her. This is the third talent I would like to have. Instead, I'd be like, "Oh no! I think my pancreas is hurting!"

I guess there isn't much to tell, but I think it's good sometimes not to always be doing something. We ate and drank and sat outside and talked and listened to music. Shelly took some pictures, and I hope she will post some of them or at least send them to me so that I can post some of them. Kyle and I have been getting on Michelle about her fake smile in pictures. I dunno, it's not such a terrible smile really, but it is so blatantly big and fake that we pretty much had to start giving her crap about it. Now she doesn't know what do, though. I'd pass along my strategy of avoiding pictures and looking pensive, but she is far too vain for that. In response to this undue criticism, Michelle "accidentally" elbowed Kyle in the face. The eye, more specifically. The left cornea, even more so.

Here's a riddle: What was up with my dad? He was stumbling some, and I guess he passed out halfway up the stairs? I didn't think he even drank that much. I sort of think it's hilarious, but my mom, the worrier, was worried. Still, even if someone had slipped him the roof, I can't think of anyone in our party who would actually rape him. Hmm. Anyway, the rest of us stayed up and played Cranium, and I would say that we were pretty evenly matched. My mom and I are the same person, and so are Kyle and Michelle. I've known mom longer, though (since I was born), so that lit our way to victory. We spent probably another hour humming all the tunes from the game just to see how well we could do. If only skills like these actually were applicable in real life. Once Mom had gone to bed, the rest of stayed up to watch Serving Sara. I'd never really had any desire to see this movie, except for Elizabeth Hurley's boobs, and whoop-dee-fuck there, all right? It seemed entirely mediocre - not good or bad enough to waste time on. In a way, I was right. This movie was bad. Not even bad enough for it to be funny. Like, sometimes, even when a joke completely flops and there is that dead silence afterwards, and that can be sort of funny in itself? Nope. Didn't have that. I know Hollywood all ganged up against Gigli because of their love-hate relationship with Ben Affleck and J. Lo, but this one is a far better target. Who decided this was a good movie to make? Who then decided that they wanted to be in this movie? It boggles the mind. Anyway, this is all very boring. We decided to sleep outside in a tent. Well, maybe just they did, but they sure as fuck aren't gettin' no tent lovin' on my watch, no sir. Mostly I just sort of lied there as they made shadow puppets and talked. I can be sort of like that. My only real contribution was my quiet suggestion that we roll around in our sleeping bags and try to crush each other. That was worthwhile, I'd say. We did not sleep for a very long time.

Sometimes somebody says something, and I have to make note of it. This happened twice this weekend. 1) My mom pointed out that I'm not very affectionate, to my friends or family or pretty much anybody. Not verbally or physically or anything. Even my dad, who is not known for his extravagant emotions, is known to show more affection than me. Is this an indication I'm broken or what? Affection just seems... creepy to me, especially if anyone can see it. And I guess that includes the people involved. So always. I'm only comfortable when it is ironic. "How sad," she says. Shut up, old bat. 2) Kyle and Shelly think I'm a mystery, as much maybe as Spritz even. That is totally beyond me. I mostly thought I was moody. Not a good quality certainly, but definitely not a mysterious one. But yeah, they read my diary and my speculations about why I do the things I do, and most of the time they think I'm totally wrong about my motivations. Curious. So, doubt you'll listen, but seriously - go right ahead and let me know when you think something I say is fucked up. It's good experience.

I stumbled out of the tent, trying to work the kinks out of my back (Boy, wasn't that a worthwhile decision! Maybe if I had seen the stars at least...) Came in just in time for Chairman of the Board with everyone's favorite prop comic, Carrot-Top. This one, my friends, is funny-bad. And if you would like to be my friend, you should learn the difference. Kyle and Shelly eventually stumbled in, and we all watched the second Harry Potter movie, much to the chagrin of my parents, who I guess are all about "doing stuff" before 3 in the afternoon. It's contagious, I see. Decisions kept getting thrown to me, which I hate, but which also got us ended up at Starved Rock and then a Mexican restaurant. Nature has become some sort of amusement park line, except that nature as an amusement park is actually very boring. Nature itself is swell, but put up a bunch of stupid boardwalks and 7-11 steps, and it might as well be made of rubber. At least the same cannot be said of my enchilada. I find myself checking out the weirdest people, just to see what will happen.

[While we were eating at Courier tonight, I was absolutely fascinated by the prepubescent girl sitting at the table behind Spritz. Actually, I have no idea how old she was. She had braces, I guess, but what amazing breasts for someone possibly so young. She wasn't gorgeous, but she was pretty, and she just had... a quality. I mean, there are lots of attractive people out there, but those with this weird... magnetism are so rare and special. I don't get it. Wish I had it. Whatever. I hope everyone has at least one good quality. Like, there was this Asian girl at the Buckle today, and I was helping her with jeans and junk, so I was supposed to be looking, OK, but seriously - she had the best butt for those jeans in the whole world. How do you even begin to tell someone that? It really was amazing, though. To see two things just merge so perfectly... Yin and yang. Light and dark. Lucky Daydreamers and Her Ass. I should feel priviliged. And Michelle Yong came in (I think?), and she has the excellent quality of stealing plastic penises to learn how to suck dick. Speaking of that, I met the, uh, nephew of Doug from "Trading Spaces" today. He's gonna be on the show, and he needed jeans for it, so I helped him pick some out. I will not be getting off on this fame, I promise.]

The whole visit seemed sort of rushed, but what do I know? I guess we were only there for a little more than a day. It's never how I mean it to go. We stopped at the Flying J because I wouldn't shut up about the Tanker and lemonade slushies, but I guess they elimated that flavor and renamed it and raised the price. I would ask if anything is sacred, but obviously anything found at a truck stop is a lot closer to Satan. I'm pretty disappointed at how clean-cut the Flying J chain is, though. No porn, no creepy condom/lotion/roofie machine in the bathrooms. Just some guy who pooped so much louder than me that I didn't even have to worry about being embarrassed. The drive home was like all drives for me - singing alone. Not that this is particularly depressing; I just thought it might be a little different. "Bring a wider CD selection then, asshat." Ooh, noted.

I was in a weird mood when we got back. After hours of driving, I wanted something a little more open and flexible. So I rode around on my bike. My mission? Try to find an open library or computer lab. I keep forgetting that it's summer, though, and everything is dead. A little sad, I guess, but I've been told you come to enjoy it. It's not like I typically like all those people around. Most I could care less about. Just, like I said, my mood. I felt like dancing with someone, being in a hot, crowded room with a lot of people. No mood altering subtances required - for me, anyway. I dunno, maybe you'd say my desire to be close to someone, thumping bass, all that shit... yeah, maybe you'd say it's a latent desire for sex. I wouldn't know, and besides, Freud got stale years ago. It's still all about attention. I actually felt like I could go up to a girl and ask her to dance for once. Isn't that the sweetest plum? Heh - I don't even understand myself when I get like this.

I started rereading the Harry Potter books. I know, I should broaden my horizons. I find I enjoy expanding my nerd knowledge base a whole lot more. It was Kyle's birthday, and the Lord gave him the best present of all: The biggest poop any of us have ever seen. It was a foot long, I swear to God, and wider than the mouth of a Gatorade bottle (which is a strange comparison, but go with it). We all thought it was a pretty good omen, but then it clogged the toilet, and it started flooding out poop water, and this morning when I took a look at it, it was the most amazingly disgusting thing I have ever seen in person. Actually, I have pictures!! But my last vestiges of kindness are telling me not to post them. Just ask instead. I coughed up some amazing myself, really, but again, I'm really just too kind. And what in God's name am I wearing today? It's like the preppie "collared shirt under sweater" look except it's all short-sleeved, and the t-shirt is homemade. I finally started getting compliments on them - and requests. Like I said, all about attention. New shirt:

It says, "I'm gonna try not to fall when I'm singin' for y'all" underneath. What kind of weird theme am I going for here?