09/06/2004 - 9:59 p.m. | signs of the impending apocolypse... of nathan walsh

I don't want to be an alarmist here, but lately there have been some largely disturbing trends in my life - professionally, socially, and physicially - that I believe may be specifying my untimely doom as I spiral wildly out of control into a massive blob of destruction KKKKKSSSHHHTTTT. Signs being:

1.) Propositioned by older gay man.
In itself, being propositioned by a gay man, even an older one, is no big thing. Maybe not my proudest moment as I am spiritually straight and WHY WILL NO ONE GET THAT, but hell, I've gone out on a date with a gay guy before (Bet you wanna know about that one, hmm?), I honestly don't care much about the stigma. This particular gay man, however, was sending out bad vibe all over the place. He was so creepy, in fact, that immediately upon arriving home, I scoured the Illinois sex offender archives for his picture. No such luck, meaning I will have to catch him myself. Shit shit shit. Anyway, I was working at the candy store yesterday, and this older man - maybe late 40's, early 50's, twitchy and nervous - comes in and makes some idle chitchat with me about the store. That's fine, nothing unusual. I talk to everyone about candy, and I am fairly sure I know more about the shit even than our own anal - er, noble - owner. So I'm talking about jelly beans or whatever, and he keeps kind of hanging around, finally buying some Sweetarts... once the girl I'm working with leaves. I did not understand the significance of this at the time. So, he starts getting even antsier than before, twitching and stuttering and shit, and he starts asking me about this bar, and at first I'm all happy, like, "Maybe he owns the bar and wants to give me a job." This is not the first time such a thing has happened, so I'm sort of hopeful. Well, not for long. He starts talking about how we should hang out and shoot pool or something with him and his buddy. He makes reference this buddy a lot. "I don't play pool." He, uh, quickly recovers. "Um, yeah... yeah, w-we don't really play pool either." Smooth operator here. Then he starts suggesting that I come over to his house to watch movies or something. "Uh....." He finally works up the courage to ask if we can exchange numbers. Keeping in mind that I am all about professionalism in the workplace, I say something very succinct like, "I'm not very comfortable with that idea." Still, he's not budging. He just wants to give me his number then. So finally I start to just fib a bit. "Yeah, they don't really like us taking people's numbers here, and I've got to work 'til close blah blah blah." So he gets all sneaky-like and goes, "Well, I have to go do some stuff (WINK) anyway, so I'll just write it down on a scrap of paper to you and slip it off to the side when no one is looking." I don't want this gaunt man enraged at me, but I have to be honest. "Um, well, there's a pretty good chance I'm not going to call you." "But there's still a chance!" he goes. Oh Jesus help me. So, he goes away for a while (wank, wank) and then comes back and winks and slides me this folded up napkin and then he still won't leave. I have customers, so I just keep tending to them and ignoring him. Finally, the store clears out, and he comes up to me again. "Is it all right if I ask you a personal question?" "Um, OK." "Are you gay?" "Nope." "Oh... Yeah, I was just wondering. I like women, too." Pause. "Call me." Another excellent bit of cover! Finally he leaves. Well, if that wasn't the scariest thing that's ever happened to me in my life. I've been telling everyone about it since then, and most people think I should be flattered. I don't think I'm quite to that point yet. Actually, I don't think I will be for a while because now every time I work I'm going to have to worry about this serial killer coming in and bashing my face with a lead pipe. And why the fuck did he think I was gay anyway and that there would be any chance that he would be getting some from me (or, God forbid, me getting some from him)? I mean, honestly, I wasn't dancing or singing at all, my voice was pretty low and even, and while it is true that this candy store is almost entirely run by girls and gay guys, that isn't wholly the case, damn it! Once again, don't make Nate Walsh buy a gun, all right?

2.) Employment endangered by not tucking one's shirt in.
Again, I know, fatal flaw, but come on! Girls don't have to tuck their "blouses" in at the candy store, why me then? I mean, I always look pretty respectable and/or cute, and this backwards double-standard sexist policy is really raining on my parade. OK, actually, I wouldn't really be offended by the policy if it were something I didn't hate, but my God, I just despise tucking shirts in. I look enough like a dork as it is, and it's all crowded and itchy and uncomfortable, and bleh. But yeah, I've been talked to several times about this issue by various managers and heads of the company, and the general idea here is if I hold onto my scruples, I will lose my job. I have the hardest time keeping my face straight at these things because they are being so, so serious, and I am certainly not at all. However, I am trying to weigh things fairly here - I need a job, really I do. I need 3 it would seem even... And if I think about it, it's like I'm getting paid to tuck my shirt in - yippie! But on the other hand, it's not like that AT ALL, and a part of me dies inside every time. I am an insanely good employee - I know the product better than everyone. I am punctual, hard-working, friendly, polite, entertaining honest, and I can actually make conversation with people when I want. This can't be said of anyone else on staff. Still, if this is what brings me down time and again, I am going to have to make some sort of change. The best solution I've had so far is to technically follow their policy but in a way that can still be obviously perceived as flippant. More or less overdressing to a huge degree - a suit would be best, but anything with a tie will suffice. Monocle and tophat optional.

3.) Nearly annihilated in auto-wreck.
Hold on a minute there, sucker. This car accident was actually not my fault (sooprize, sooprize!). I just happened to be in the middle of it, as the forces of fate and the works of the sinister gods tried to crumble the world around me. I was riding my bike back home from class, going east on Illinois but stopped at the Lincoln intersection. The light turns green, and I start to roll forward a little bit when a car going south on Lincoln makes a last minute right turn onto Illinois. At the same time a car on Illinois with me is making a really fast left turn and suddenly HONK SMASH and the car that was on Lincoln comes flying at me, parts and shit (e.g. the bumper) shooting towards me at high speed. I very slowly start to roll out of the way, but luckily the car skids to a halt not long after. The one girl who almost hit me was really shaken and a little cut up, and no one was hurt, but how lucky have I been lately? Yes, how lucky...

4.) Gets into a fight with a dude.
Actually, I did not know it was a fight for the longest time, but perhaps I wasn't in the top of my game. It was Saturday night, and Shelly and I were walking around some block in Champaign (of course Champaign - this would never happen in Urbana) trying to find a party or something because so far things had been pretty miserable. We approach this rather large crowd of guys on the sidewalk, and they say the usual semi-lewd things to Shelly, but what else is new? We ignore them and head on our way. We get a few feet past and one of the guys calls out to us, "Hey, guy in the blue shirt! Turn around!" Now, keep in mind that unlike countless other times, I have neither said nor done anything particularly offensive to anyone at all. Shelly can back me up. So, this huge muscular guy with a crew cut (of course a crew cut!) in a long-sleeved shirt comes marching up to me, all pissy-like, and I'm thinking in slow-motion, "Hmm... He looks pretty mad. But! I know for a fact I didn't make fun of him, so it can't be that. Well, he must be coming over to explain, and then I'll just charm him or something..." Nope. He walks up and shoves me as hard as he can. This is not what I expected. I expected yelling. Hell, maybe I even expected a punch, something to indicate the start of an actual bout. But as I flew through the ear (legs out perpendicular to my torso, I swear) and bounced on the grass a few feet back, I was mostly confused. Well, first sort of content because I was a little buzzed and the flying through the air part was neat, but then mostly confused. Was that even a fight? You're supposed to get in the guy's face, not push him away, right? So, I slowly lurch to my feet, and all of the guys friends rush up and start holding me back, like they actually think I'm so full of rage as to go charging at him or something, and they're all like, "Calm down, man! Calm down! Don't fight him! He's in a fucking awful mood, he'll kill you! Oh my God, we're so sorry!" So they're all panicking, and I slowly respond, "I am calm... Was that a fight?" And they freak out some more, and Shelly started to freak out some too ("Why did he push my friend?"), and I was just kind of, "Tra la la" until we eventually left their company. I don't know if it is an evolutionary advantage or not, but I was not the least bit scared, only perplexed. I'm like a big stupid herbivore. Some added thoughts: Obviously this guy works out only to make himself strong enough to win fights because he is bitter that he is with a crowd of guys, not girls. That's besides the point, though. What is the point is that the "blue shirt" I was wearing was this. So, after years of training, let's go for the ultimate challenge and pick a fight with the 120 lb. kid in the "I need a hug" girls' shirt. Tough guy.

Seriously, though, this is all making me very nervous. Nothing ever happens to me ever, and then suddenly within the last 2 or 3 days, I am nearly killed or destroyed several times over. Luckily, it would seem that my four horsemen are not Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death, but rather Sodomy, Unemployment, Bad Timing, and Shoving, which are at least a little bit funnier. In other good news, I finally have my computer up and running in my room with no crazy gibberish on my monitor anymore, so maybe I'll finally start writing entries or sending IM's again. OUTLOOK REMAINS HAZY. Guess not.