12/07/2004 - 12:47 a.m. | remove those stomach knots

Last night's bingo was at least as enjoyable as the previous week's, but we were all strangely sober*. No less loud, of course. Louder even maybe, I think, because of so few people there and the discovery of a new phrase to shout: HUGE CLIT! This is inspired by the soon-to-be released sex tape with wrestling superstar Chyna. Apparently years of steroid usage has turned her poor clitoris into something of a penis, head and all. I've seen the shit; it is unsettling. Why do I speak of it? Because you must know.

*Maybe Smacko wasn't entirely sober, but we certainly weren't smashed. Actually, after our failed attempts to drink the MD 20/20, nearly puking all over ourselves, we were perhaps a little wary. "I'll have a Cherry Pepsi," I said.

Some of the evening must be accredited to Jevon's friend Patrick, a.k.a. Booger, because of the way he burps. My God, that shit is loud; it's like cannon fire! This was about matched by his demeanor. Shall we say he caught on to the ideals of Team Tourettes right away? That is putting it mildly. This guy might have to be our new captain - he's loud enough to deafen Shelly and crude enough to make even me feel a little embarrassed for our existence. There was a girl there with him - maybe a girlfriend, but she might have been too embarrassed to say? What's to be embarrassed about, asks Nate at the time as he dons some girl's half-shirt Kyle won, exposing far, far too much of his sultry little man body. Far and away, however, most of the evening's fun came from Dan's Dad, the father of one of the bartenders who works at Legends on bingo nights. He was sloshed to high hell he was, but what a good friendly drunk, too! Of course, we quickly made friends with him by cheering for him at random and making bingo dedications to him time and time and time again. G-60 and still sexy... like Dan's Dad! As he ran around, hitting on girls (Smacko: "Dan's Dad is a pimp!") and yelling about his impotence and his favorite sexual positions, he no doubt embarrassed his son (Dan - or, as we prefer, Dan's Dad's Son) but he became the star of the evening. Appropriately enough, both Dan's Dad and Booger made it into the final round of Shambo, where it was pretty much nonstep hilarity/drama. And plenty of ass shaking. Smacko, meanwhile, somehow got started on his Horace Grant erotic fan fiction idea, so that pretty much carried the rest of the evening all the way through. As well as Tony's girlfriend drunkenly yelling out "BUTT SEX" whenever the room got quiet.

Most importantly, I stood possibly as close as a foot from Heroin Chick as she both smiled and looked at me. At the same time. God bless my memory, because otherwise I would not have that shit burned in there. Damn you, dark hair, blue eyes. That's really not fair for none of us.

Afterwards, Shelly wanted Walmart, so to Walmart we went. I was so exhausted by that point, having gotten little sleep the night before and then spending all of the day reading a whole stupid advertising textbook. Actually, to be fair, it was not a stupid book at all. Called Hey Whipple, Squeeze This, it is almost good enough on its own to recommend to people not interested in the creative area of advertising, but God damn God damn to a little nerd like myself, this shit was a gold mine. Still, I can't say I'm not apprehensive reading about the business I someday plan on going into, the horror stories and all. Do you realize I have to make a portfolio probably? And then hawk it to people? That is strange, my friend. Strange. But still, insomnia carried me to four, which carried me to today's exam, first of six before I am done for the semester. Scary thought, but with the whole period spread out before me like that, it feels pretty well-spaced. Then I had to go fake earn me some survery results, so I went to the union to print out a bunch of copies of the document. Unfortunately, one of two printers were working, and one of two of the one printer's trays had paper. Then we tack on that some mutant (redhead, obviously) is printing a fucking book - no, really, a whole book - and for some reason it can't just fly through the pages like normal. It has to go, "Well, I've got this page here..... Hmmm... I'll check Tray 3.... Hmmmm.... Damn, it's empty! How about...... Tray 2? Hm.... Yeah, this is OK. I can..... print here..... Now." Over and over, millions of times, as more and more people keep adding their names to the queue and start forming a little mob of mutants around the printer. Most people seem pissed, but I have nothing but hours of time, so I start giggling and making jokes, handing out completed printings as they come. Somehow, I am last? Rest of the day was spent with "Scrubs" and surveys, trying to fill them out, trying to turn them in, stupid Minsoo not showing up even I am doing this stupid time wasting commute for him, well, fuck it.

Heh - sorry if I'm a little pissy. It's all stemming from the same illogical event. Well, the event is logical enough, but my reaction to it is unusual and very strong. When I got back from Greg to try and turn the shit in (Drew Alm and I wave and should be friends, but I think she thinks I am an idiot maybe), I park my car behind Kyle's because that is what I always do. All cars here, all cars fit, I swear. And then all of a sudden, Tetris blocks get shifted - Spritz leaves and Kyle leaves and then Spritz comes back and then Kyle comes back and now there is not enough room for Kyle - so Shelly comes in yelling at me to move my car, and my fucking phone isn't working, so I'm on Spritz's (Why is this important? I dunno, I am under stress, I think is what I am saying), and it's raining, and I have on slippers, and Shelly seems to be lately imbibing the more diva-like qualities of Jessica Simpson (I suppose this has something to do with end of semester stress, but I swear she used to be more depressed and less demanding - I miss those days), and this is all my fault I am told time and again, and her voice suddenly seems unusually shrill, and I want to tell her to take the bitchhat off, and I certainly do not want to go out and move the car, and there, end result: Suddenly I am filled with an unusual amount of irrational anger. So there's that, and then Missy thinks it's her fault, (and she won't listen to me that I'm just suddenly in a foul mood, and not everything is her fault), and this reminds me a little too much of Lisa, and I just need everything to go away for a few minutes, and that's where we are now, and I feel better already. Strange how that happened, though. Came out of nowhere. It didn't make any sense.

On the plus side, I just won a talking plush AFLAC duck on eBay. Great things worth talking about!