05/26/2004 - 4:07 p.m. | they usually throw hot things on me then, like soup or fire.

I had a pretty kickass dream last night. Kyle and I somehow gained the ability to travel back in time an indeterminate amount of years, and we were trying to find a way to earn lots of money. Like, we were going to get really rare baseball cards while they were still mint and then sell them back to the future, but we didn't have enough money for the initial investment, so we kept trying to steal them. Subplot: I met my mom when she was younger, and she was deadset on getting cosmetic surgery. She seemed fairly nonchalant about meeting her future son, but we got into a huge argument about the surgery. Interesting detail: While driving in the rain (somehow the station wagon came along), I heard a radio spot for the newly-invented hacky sack. Made by Hasbro. Well, I thought it was fucking interesting. I have to brush my teeth so this water tastes better.

Maybe the baking soda toothpaste wasn't the best idea; I feel as though I am drinking urine now. Nate Walsh the Late Riser rose late full of plans and schemes, which were immediately scrapped for the Disney Channel. I miss you, old friend. I allowed myself just enough time to shower and speed off for another night of candy-related adventure. I was in a much better mood this time, possibly because nobody fucked with my head with their false notions of leaving early. It's finally sort of gotten through to me that Amy's pseudo-insult jokes are actually just jokes, so I've done the only thing I could - started firing them back. Always a dangerous line I walk, but I hate just fucking taking those things when I could be shooting them out far, far better. I mean, as far as failed attempts, there's obviously old Harve. Once I finally took a shot at his alma mater, I think he nearly had an aneurysm. But it worked out well enough for me in this situation. I just can't be held back, is what I'm saying. It really wasn't too horrible of a night, even for 2 managers being there. The only bad thing is just an inherent difficulty of being Nate Walsh: You will get on my bad side if you ask me to tuck my shirt in. I'm sorry. Those are the rules. I built walls of cats and panda bears, if you're really that interested. You're not. No one else really is either, though, which affords me the opportunity to have the giant panda bears ride up the ladder on my back while I giggle uncontrollably. Sometimes I swear I really am mrkrazy, 11. Anyway, the best part of the evening is when I got to mop. It was tiring (especially considering I had to sing like a lusty pirate the entire time), but I got a little sweaty and felt like a manly janitor. Which has always been an apparent dream of mine?

I am indignant! And no, it's not because of society's double standard that girls kissing girls = hot, and guys kissing guys = profoundly disturbing, but I have a few qualms about that, too. No, Wendy's is going to take it up the ass, courtesy of Nate and at the very least two letters. Fuckers charged me $7.31 for a chicken sammich combo. When I tried to call them on it, the guy got all pissed off like I was calling him a nimrod or something. Costly mistake, Shlomo. Mere seconds later as I was cramming handfuls of fries into my face (which I believed they stiffed me on as well), I was already mentally composing my first letter to the corporation. And you gotta believe it's gonna be amazing when I actually have a real qualm with them. They shall know my fury. And then, I had the brilliant brainstorm that I will pretend like I am so pissed that I forgot to say some shit in the first letter and had to send out a second (and possibly even a third a few days later). I hope you guys are all ready for a feast because I am going to be getting like 300 coupons in the mail. Just imagine lightning bolts raining down around me, OK?

OK, either everyone I talk to on HotOrNot is a fake, or I have some very strange issues with the type of girl I am attracting on the site. In unrelated news, I am going to write a story about this guy who only has the best conversations with 18 year old former druggie nymphomaniacs who got kicked unfairly out of high school (wrongly accused, see) but were still ahead of the game enough to graduate and will be moving onto college in the fall. Oh - they also use the same prescription drugs as he does. And they above all find this fellow to be scintillating like nothing else. The guy suspects the drugs are somehow involved - a homing signal or something. Dialogue: "Being part of a zombie army would suck.... but just a little cool."

How does everyone take everything so seriously? I know I said that you should only go for about 50% seriousness, but I think the number is dropping all the time, and I feel all the happier for it. And I find myself laughing mentally (sometimes out loud) at those who actually are entirely focused upon themselves with the utmost of earnestness. I know, I shouldn't feel superior, because I'm still quite a bit of a fuck up myself, and lots of things obviously still do get to me... but I still find part of myself even laughing at that. Yesterday when I was all pissed off that Amy wasn't actually leaving - I kept giggling bitterly too. "Ahahaha! Fucking LEAVE! This is so painful for me! Ahahahah!" I assure you this isn't a sign that I'm going crazy. I assure you. Man, and now you think I'm this arrogant, stupid ass. That sucks a little bit. Pretend I'm playing with a cute puppy; maybe that will raise your opinion of me a little bit. Even if I fucking dislike dogs. I mean... CUTE <3 <3 <3

I am off - like, off off - until Saturday, and since Andrea is working pretty much nonstop and then leaving and Kyle is off in Cairo (the city in Illinois, not the Egyptian capital) and Spritz is an orbiting satellite I see only every so often, I will sit here and be as big of a nerd as I possibly can for the next three days. Fucking lame romantic comedy anime and Harry Potter and Dungeons & Dragons. Just try and be attracted to that, fuckos. "Oh, but your musk from not having showered in 72 hours just turns me on so much!" OK, what the fuck.

Today's title comes from a line in Fitz's diary that makes me laugh every time. You've been quoted, beyotch. [I corrected the typo, though - I hope you don't mind]