11/16/2004 - 11:45 a.m. | what if they have ceased to exist, disappeared into the stomachs of ghouls?

I can't even focus on the things I'm supposed to be covering. OK, what did I tell my mom I'd write about? OK, Missy being here. Shit... what did we do? Tried to watch Boondock Saints about half a dozen times, each time someone passing out midway along the line. No offense, Scotsmen! I love your crazy shit, and Willem Dafoe humping the floor! It's all great! We did make it through The Butterfly Effect first try, though. I made fewer jokes about people getting PUNK'd than you'd think. But who could resist the fake blowjob, then shivving scene? Jesus Himself could not, I'd wager. There was a debate between Missy and myself, the hilariousness of which would be vast, if it could be rated PG-13 or even R. We drove to cross the guard in the fricking tundra, despite the fact that it actually was Veteran's Day, and we had no reason to go. Oops. I neglected to tell Mis that Mom and Tina were visiting until, oh, roughly when they were in the driveway. Less time to freak out was my rationale. Also, I thought it was very, very funny. Mom made us all stockings, now you make us all presents! I tried on my grandpa's pants from when he was my age and in the Navy - proof positive to mother that there actually is someone who existed that was skinnier than me. We did things - shopping and eating and me being louder than most - and then came home for pizza and oatmeal scotchies. There was some Super Nintendo Jeopardy - me vs. the world - and I believe I was still winning. HA! And then I did my normal Jeopardy theme dance interlude, and apparently my mom and Mis shared a look. I count that among the good signs. I had an incredible bout of procrastination going on: No, I cannot start on my ad until we watch Bridget Jones' Diary and no, I cannot start on the ad until I have finished the entirety of this bottle of wine. Which I didn't. And which spilled everywhere several nights later. Along with brown fabric paint on pretty much anything I or Missy owns.

Talk about creative juices, though! God damn, my ad was the only one that packed any sort of punch at all. Every other one was like, "Urg, Wisconsin. City of lovers." Fuck! Just die if you're going to expose me to that! Mine did exactly what it was supposed to: Got people to laugh (for implausible reasons) and actually think about and remember Kansas for more than three seconds. The accompanying essay was a masterwork in itself, as far as fermented grape-addled ranting goes. So I make you read it!!

"The thing about lots of places - most places even - is that they have some sort of positive advantage, something interesting to see or do there, some selling point that we advertisers (and pseudo-advertisers) can push. But what about those places that have no real redeemable qualities at all? How does one sell that? Clearly, I am thinking of Kansas.

Poor Kansas! It's a Midwestern state, so it's already got that big hunk of soybeans and boredom going against it, but at least the other plains states have something. We've got Chicago (and the University of Illinois, obviously); what does Kansas have that's good? I wouldn't count the egg fart smell (the second you cross over the border) as a good thing. Or the fact that it shares its biggest city with Missouri. Or how it has pretty much the worst baseball team ever. Or how even its name got ripped off and made better (and more piratey!) by another state. The first time I was in Kansas I saw, swear to God, a group of guys trying to lasso a sawhorse with a crude head attached. That's sure to draw the tourists in. I've been there more than a few times recently, and there was approximately one good thing there. And she's with me now. Even the thing most people associate Kansas with - The Wizard of Oz - pretty much typifies why no one wants to be there anymore. It's all brown and white (not even black and white!), and she goes, "We're not in Kansas anymore!" It's best known for being a place you left. And don't even get me started on the nonsensical derivative in The Matrix: "Fasten your seatbelt, Dorothy, because Kansas is going bye-bye." WHAT

Target market? Uh, pretty much anyone would be good, I think, but who could conceivably have enough free time to not just drive through Kansas (as fast as is physically possible) and actually stop for a while? Who would have such a twisted sense of humor? Oh, I dunno, college students? We're pretty clever and ironic, no? It's time for Kansas to get a little more self-referential! No more of this "blah blah noble state" jive! Kansas sucks, and the first step to healing is acceptance.

This leads us to our strategy: We must freely admit, boast even, that Kansas has nothing to offer anyone, but this must be done in clever ways. Irony and sarcasm must abound! Yes, the concept! Kansas does sort of stink, but it would be funny to people if you said you actually went there! For instance, Kansas has nothing, right? Well, then it's probably got nothing bad then either, like... zombies! See, what a selling point! No zombies in Kansas! Finally free of that jugular-biting epidemic! In fact, everything I listed earlier as a deficit suddenly becomes a huge facetious selling point! There is a whole group of masochistic, ironic people out there who want to see those horrible roadside attractions just because they are so lousy. Well, have we got a state for you. Frankly, I think it is Kansas' best and only hope. Honestly - what other options do we have? "Bob Dole is from here!" Dear lord."

The next assignment should be equally good, I think. Well, bad good, I mean. We're to make a song parody jingle for something... I dunno, public service, it's really irrelevant; all I know is that I get to sing, God damn it, and whatever "Brian" thinks, we shall be doing some sort of power pop, you can be sure! What else, Friday? Went to class, read, slept, haha. Then slept some more! Like 6 hours! OK, we suck. Then some people came over to drink, we did not. Why did we not? I can't recall. At the time, I did not want to not feel what I was feeling; perhaps this has all changed. We played more Nintendo and all passed out together.

Saturday was my ahahahahahaha interview, which certainly seemed like the biggest pile of shady I have ever encountered in my natural life. We met at Panera, and thankfully, it was not just me and the dude, which would have been sort of scary, but also his cute girlfriend and some other mall girl who seemed sort of dumb and this real creepy fucking nerd guy and then the huge black guy, Dorian Earl, who did most of the talking. We talked for an hour, and while I at least understand a little better what we're selling here, I am still not sure what role I would have in the process and that makes me a little nervous. If you're going to whore me out for crack-cocaine, just let me know so that I can say no (or yes) already! Anyway, I think what he was trying to sell was this idea of an online mall, theory being that more and more shopping is going to be done online. He drew a chart on a napkin (No, really, swear to God) about the increase in internet sales and how it will make up to 85% of the marketplace by 2015. "What percentage is it now?" I ask. "Uh, 3%." Oh. And then tried to reassure me with some crazy sine curve about cell phones. "Do you own a camera phone?" No. "Well, a lot of people do these days! It's a huge growth industry, and everyone who got in early - like you have the chance to today - made a lot of money!" He emphasized his point by drawing a dollar sign next to the sine curve. Then another. He then went on to this parable about how we would change things if we owned the mall, eventually leading us to this idea of rebates. In short, his plan (as I understood it), goes like this: Online malls will be much like real ones, with a lot of stores paying to be listed among those in the mall. People will go to this "mall," buy all the things they want at comparable prices. "You mean like Amazon?" Pause. But! Here is the kicker! They will receive a rebate based upon how much they spend! Therein lies the brilliance, see. So, Dorian here already has himself set up a nice little online mall with this rebate program and with real stores involved (OfficeMax, Geoffrey Beene, some place that sells meat, etc.), but now people have to get the word out about this place to create loyalty as more and more shopping is done online. "Soon you'll be buying everything you own online!" "What about clothes? Or shoes? I like to try them on sometimes, and I know that lots of girls just do it for fun. How do you know if stuff with fit you? And it's hard to tell what they look like in the picture sometimes." Pause. "Man, everyone knows what size they wear!" Oh. Anyway, although he still has not given us specifics, the idea is that we refer people probably, and then we get a disproportionately huge cut of sales, I think, which seems like good business to me. "You know what I'm sayin'?" He said that an awful lot. And apparently that's all it took to pass the test because me and idiot girl knew what he was sayin' (or at least pretended to) and suddenly we're invited to the select second interview! Eastland Suites hotel, this Thursday, "business attire." We'll be meeting senior partners. This gets stranger by the second. Before we left, he gave us his business card with super secret URL included! "I gave you the password to the site because so many people are interested in the site and would love to have access to it but I only give it to those I've met with and who seem ambitious and clever blah blah blah." Well, good thing I trust you guys then, hmm? Password is "income," as in "all of the income you'll be making once you start referring people to my products!!!!!1" I took a look around, and it was about as vague as I expected. The more surprising thing was the fact it still didn't give me a link to this mystery online mall I'm supposed to be pushing soon. In fact, the only things they were selling were a bunch of weird lo-carb energy drinks and magnets to wear on your knees so as to help your joints. This screams legitimacy. I pretty much have to go to this meeting now. I'll need Spritz's suitcoat and a fifth of vodka.

After the meeting, Missy and I ran out for lunch and then some blind shopping. I think we are both more inclined to buy useless stuff if the other person is around. I am specifically referring to the cardboard "Color Your Own Castle!" we got at Target. Plan is to a) color it and b) burn it to the ground, hopefully with someone standing in the middle of it. It would be dramatic! Spritz volunteered already, and I am going to hold him to that. We finally finished Boondock Saints and then Kyle and Shelly came home with the newest DDR game. So much for free time. It's actually not much different from the original (until we get the little Playstation camera thing at least!), but at least we have some hilarious new songs and cute little videos. The "Go West" one makes me laugh out loud each time, so much that I usually fail the song thereafter. Crucial weakness. As always, I have the smallest learning curve with the game but plateau far earlier than everyone else. Yay, me. Missy, meanwhile, really put the 10 or so years of dance she took, and did surpisingly well for a newbie. I'm sure that was worth the money!

The four of us met with Dank and Kay for a triple date at the surprisingly mediocre Great Impasta. Was anyone happy with their meal? I don't think. Dunno - they had some good ideas (e.g. feta on everything), but I feel like even I could execute them better. If only someone would pay me exorbitant prices for my work! The final kick in the face came out the door as I grabbed a "mint," which turns out to be code for "first lime, then black licorice asshole." Thanks!! Then off to Wal-mart for, well, just purple duct tape after every other search came up empty. Was gonna buy carbomb supplies (the drink, not the explosive), but we were being closely tailed by a mutant just itching to card us, so we got out of dodge. Two places later (Osco apparently needs two forms of ID; Sean does have those), we were finally good, even if the carbombs weren't. I dunno, I might not have been in the mood is all, and suddenly I had a headache and was all reticent. So much for that evening! Sorry!

We delayed the inevitable as long as possible, me absorbing what items of hers I could reach into my little amoebic blanket haven, but eventually Missy had to go, and that's never good. Too bad I couldn't have gone back with her - Ted Leo was playing in Lawrence, KS, that night. Spent the day reading, sleeping, playing my queer vampire PC game (had to finish in time for the new one out TOODAY right?!!!) until it was time for bingo. Surprisingly good bingo, despite the fact that none of us drank or won the $300. We were all in top form, which is to say that I was and that is all that matters. I've decided to stop being offended when people steal my lines and instead be like the little Jewish writer behind the scenes. Jevon was drunk as eff, hitting on everyone, and ordering the gayest drinks imaginable (FREE GLOWSTICK?! I must have it!!). Spritz, for obvious reasons, was not in attendance, but Smacko got him in the clear, by the most ludacris means possible. Tony was like, "So, no, really, which one of you took the monkey head?" Smacko goes, "We didn't even really know the guy, but we talked to some people, and it turns out he was on PCP - fucking angeldust - that night! And then! Turns out he got fucking hit by a car that same night!" "No way! Seriously? Is he OK?" "Yeah, he just got some scratches and bruises and shit, but we think he learned his lesson. God got his revenge." "Yeah, talk about karma." I can't believe that worked. Meanwhile, Touchdown opted to join our table, which was a whole new level of scary. The hitting on of Shelly just got ridiculous. Something about her structure and possibly the word "delectable." Creepy shit. And then both him and Shelly needed the same number to win one game, and he's like, "I guess that means we should be boyfriend and girlfriend," which Smacko immediately starts using on me. "Neither of us had I-25. We should be boyfriend and boyfriend." But there is an unspoken rule that none of us ever obliquely mock Touchdown, no matter what he says. It's getting harder and harder, though, especially when he starts talking about his fetish for female bodybuilders and how he wants to "rub and caress" them. Fuck, man! The word choices! Do they hand out thesauruses to the perverse? Team Tourettes (a.k.a. "Team Always Ninja") guided the victor to victory in Full Body Shambo and then began the wild speculation on what we would buy if one of us won the $300. A joint for Tony ("Right on the counter next week," Smacko says, "where did it come from???"), LaBamba for everyone, EyeToy for Shelly. Obviously, I would be far more selfish and impractical; I made a solemn vow to get a gold tooth if I won the cash. Too bad none of us did. Stupid winningest table next to us. Shelly got two pretty decent prizes, however: A beer bottle candle and this shitty plastic bowling set. Obviously, the two were combined almost immediately, melt-welding the pins together to spell "HIV" for Tony (My idea <3 <3 <3). Kyle, Shelly, and I were all hacking to death as the smoke from the plastic was blowing towards us. "It's cancer! We're dying!" "Oh, you are not." No, seriously. We were. We discussed yesterday and all three of us had the same symptoms all night long - difficulty breathing, the feeling like you had to burp or something, headache, nausea - in varying degrees. So much for those last couple golden years.

Yesterday was consumption without end. OK, that's not true, but it's not far off. I ate pretty much nothing but stale oatmeal scotchies and Dr. Pepper all day (perhaps resulting in the rivers I am currently shitting), finished one book, started another, finished one game, started another, got the ball rolling on getting my car fixed (No, for real, this time!), went to the eye doctor, got pwned on the price of glasses (but they apparently will make my eyes look less huge and buglike!), pretty much anything to avoid human contact all day long. I must highly recommend The Zombie Survival Guide, a hilariously exhaustive book that takes itself almost 100% seriously, except for just a little wink in your direction here and there. "Despite their education, technical savvy, and professed disinterest in the spiritual world, urban Americans run, screaming to their gods, at the first sight of zombies." I have to go clean out my car now and pay $80 to have it towed like 4 blocks. Piss off.