01/17/2005 - 7:11 p.m. | holiday recap

See, I bet you thought I was a Jehovah's Witness or whatever Nick Knudson was so he didn't celebrate any holiday at all (not even his birthday!) so that's why I skipped over that whole end of December period, but really I didn't write anything about the holidays just because I am so soul-crushingly lazy. (Incidentally, Nick, if you were to ever stumble upon this, you should totally try and contact my ass because I believe you were the only Serena person in my class I might still actually be friends with... Troy even annoyed me at the time, and Zak grew a molester mustache, so that leaves you, my friend! "Killer").

So... How were your holidays? Mine were all right. Alcohol has opened up whole new worlds of familial lovey-dovey-ness for me. As you know (or, as I say), it's usually not easy for me to get full on smashed. If I try downing a lot of stuff at once, it usually just makes me feel full and sleepy. If I spend the whole day downing wine, however, it brings me to a slow boil that everyone seemed to find pleasant. We were with my mom's side of the family on Christmas Eve, and it got to where I wouldn't speak without an Italian accent, using occasional vocabularly I picked up from the pocket dictionary lying around. Mostly, though, I just yelled "Mama mia!" a lot. Apparently my grandma was lovin' it! Presents were exchanged, and gross meat of some sort was eaten. Babies were there early on, and while they are approaching the age where they are interesting to me, I'm not sure if the reverse is true. I received another Peru Mall gift card, now budgeting me a total of $50 I have absolutely no idea how to spend.

Christmas was apparently the next day. Presents were opened again. I still feel ridiculously inept as far as purchases for other people, but I guess my parents seemed content. Or they've learned to fake it well. Oh - and I forgot the jewelry my dad sent to my house to make sure Mom wouldn't see it early. No chance of that now, is there?! I got plenty of stuff - including $40 in Wendy's gift certificates, sure to make me a blob of fat and salt. A pleased blob, however. What else? A silkscreening kit, which are expensive as eff, and I am still all scared to actually use it. Ooh - speaking of that, Threadless (the site Smacko told me about for t-shirts) is having a contest. If a shirt you submit wins, you can get $100 gift certificate and $2005 cash money. Do you know how many problems that shit would sort out for me? I mean, obviously not all of them, as scary piles of loans continue to accrue, and I just carry on digging my hole deeper and deeper and deeper, but man - I would be so proud and out of debt! Anyway, a new sewing machine, which I've only really used once so far, but it is good to have, right?! I dunno, I'm rambling. Let's move on.

My dad got a PS2 for Christmas, and I got him my stab at a game (some random basketball one), which we attempted to play for a few hours (Much to my mom's chagrin). We both suck terrible balls at it. Eventually, we had to get ready for the annual Oh Joy! Walsh Party! Mostly for fun, I argue with Mom about what I'm going to wear, either going way casual or hilariously overdressed. I opted for the latter this particular day - shirt and tie with sweater over top. Sometimes I like reveling in my overbearing geekiness.

I'm still not the least bit comfortable at the Walsh Christmas party. At least at the Legrenzi side, I feel some attempt at being familial. The Walsh gathering is more like a gathering of business conglomerates. I just try to stay out of the way and remain cordial, if reticent. And I didn't have nearly enough time to get myself trashed enough to be jovial and, you know, non-terrified. My dad's sister and her family didn't attend for the second year in the row. I honestly can't remember the last time I saw them. A crippling loss. His other sister's two kids are quite cute, but the one is on the verge of becoming the after-the-fact inspiration for the kid in Problem Child, right down to the red hair. Which of course is what I blame the problem on. He just has energy to burn. All the time.

And what would the evening be without the traditional detailed analysis of the monstrous vibrator someone received as a gift? Honestly, who would ever buy that as a gift for somebody? I mean, I can't think of any sort of relationship that would make that an appropriate present. Even if you've been girlfriends with someone for years and years, I just don't see it any easier going, "Well, I know Jim always had such a hard time getting, you know... there. And this baby has multiple settings!" Let alone if it's from your landlady. Anyway, we were all in hysterics at all the parts and the hilarious ways in which they moved. "Why is that rotating?" "What are those rocks for?!" "Holy shit - mine doesn't do that!" Peace on earth.

Poop Story #1: We stopped by Tina's to wish her a merry Christmas or whatever, and two hours of buffet food suddenly came calling. I ran to the terlet and let hell fly, realizing too late that this was a multiple flusher I had on my hands. I wiped and whatnot and gave it a shot. No movement at all. Oh fuck. Tried it again. No dice. Well, I certainly can't just leave it in there, so I start digging around for a plunger. Unfortunately, all that I find is one of those tiny sink ones. I start mining (poop mining) for several minutes with minimal success. Nothing's going down, and now I've altered it into some sort of fecal stew. People might be getting suspicious, I think, and decide to go for drastic measures. Let us not discuss them specifically - I will simply advise you not to shake my hand for a while, all right? I was a horrible, horrible human blender, and no soap will ever make me feel clean. That's one.

Post Christmas Tina and Doug came over. What was I doing? Actually, I think I was writing about the week before. How sad. We ate and watched Supersize Me, which I thought was pretty good, even if it fizzled at the end. Just to be a bitch, however, I made it a point to eat at McDonald's the very next day. I'm killing myself with every bite... and I'm lovin' it!

The next day I drove to Missy's house in Kansas City, a good half an hour shorter drive than I'm used to! What a breath of fresh air! Because I was leaving from Sheridan instead of Champaign, I took a different path, mostly through Iowa, Land of Mystical Sights and Sounds. OK, actually, Iowa sort of sucks, but they have one perk they should really be playing up. Because of ethanol or some shit, the "silver" gasoline there is actually cheaper than regular unleaded. That should be in every brochure, you cretins, not your gay ass Bridges of Madison County. Although I did drive right past the exit to them, and I was horribly tempted to stop and get a picture of them (and possibly of me flipping them off). In an effort to get myself a little more worldly, all the CDs I had packed were ones I rarely (or never) listened to at all. I picked one side of my CD case and promised to go through the whole thing from there in order, skipping over nothing. Some of the instrumental shit was pretty entertaining (although this may have been due to the fact that I was freestyle rapping as a Scotsman to them for like three hours - my talent grows with every passing second), but some things I could just not wait to end. Shelly's recommended The Music CD, for instance, I'm sorry to say. Each minute dragged on and on and on in depressing monotony until finally the fucker ended, and I could toss it out the window in victory. Don't worry, it was just a CD-R. I'm sure it didn't hit anybody. Unlike that sandwich. :|

Oh - and here's my guide on how to be an indie DJ mix master supreme (a la Kid Koala): 1) Go through old movies and radio shows to find hi-larious sound bytes that sound really out of date and wacky! When in doubt, record your own and make them sound old! Skritch skrtich skritch! 2) Instead of using normal sounds for the beat, go for crazy things! Like old jazz and world music from years ago. 3) Add in crazy future sounds (See Radiohead's "OK Computer," Beck's "Mutations," anything else produced by that Nigel fuck). Don't worry! It doesn't have to be particularly good! Some dumb fucks will like it! If they're not from Japan, I will not.

Pause here: I really hope Kyle and Shelly were just so damned turned on by "Vince Carter: Behind the Magic" or whatever the shit is called, that they just had to run off to their room for a hardcore makeout session. I know I was.

Let's see... So I made it to Missy's house eventually, and I met her family. All of her family. All 18 million of them. All at once. Since she shall no doubt be scouring this for my opinion, I might as well make it easy on her, right?

Her sister Amy: Well, I've never really spent an extended amount of time around anyone with Down's Syndrome before. How to best describe it? She's... kind of like a Furby, you know? They both look a little goofy and sometimes mumble incoherently to themselves, but they also sort of know what's going on at the same time. Like... there but not all there, you know? People would be talking about things, and she would add in her two cents, even if it didn't really make any sense at all. And she'll ask odd questions about food from out of nowhere. "Do you like steak, Nate?" "No, not really, Aim." She's nice, though, and sort of silly (Her laugh reminds me of Ernie on "Sesame Street") and says some really funny things at time.

Missy's dad: Is pretty much the nicest, sweetest old man in the whole world. Like, Missy's mom (and pretty much everyone else) sort of has this hard-edge towards Amy... like, they tolerate, but they are still mildly annoyed by it. Not Mr. Barmann, however. He's just really kind and thoughtful, and I can totally see where Missy gets that side of her. It's so strange, though, that he's as old as my grandparents are... and is therefore facing a lot of the same sorts of health problems. It's sort of sad. I don't want him to be sad and have headaches.

Missy's mom: as I mentioned, she is where Missy gets her sort of stubborn, smartass side. But she is polite and cares, too, and was nothing but nice to me, even giving me a hug when I left.

Missy's brother Rob and his wife Ali: They were the ones I got to know the least. Hehe - they seem sort of yuppie-ish to me, with their Dave Eggers and all, but can I really talk? All of the Barmanns are really smart, though, so what choice does it leave them? Ali is really, really competitive, I believe, which is sort of funny because she is my exact polar opposite in that respect.

Missy's sister Jen and her husband Dan: They engaged me a lot more in conversation, which I really appreciated. Dan was especially friendly (He called me "buddy" and apparently that goes a long way in my mind), probably because he still remembers what it's like to be an outsider in such a huge, close-knit family. They have a 6-month old daughter (Grace) who was totally cute and blew raspberries with me, but they are just a bit overprotective of her. For instance, we were not allowed to use the upstairs bathroom once Grace was put down to bed, for fear of waking her up. If I have kids, I am going to walk around wailing poorly on my trombone until they can sleep through any shit in the world.

Missy's brother Jimmy: was probably me favorite, even if I'm not entirely sure he didn't hate my guts. We have similar taste in music, for one thing, and he has this odd sense of humor that is somewhere between insanity and spite that I really liked. Apparently he worked on the movie Ride with the Devil with Tobey Maguire and Jewel (!!!), but I can't find him anywhere on IMDB, so I'm actually sort of hoping it was just an elaborate lie. He looks like... someone (People say Mr. Maguire himself, but they are clearly wrong), but I have not been able to put my finger on it. Maybe a little Harry Connick, Jr., with some Gary Sinise? God, I have no idea. Missy was all worried that he was somehow a virgin, but with his dark hair and blue eyes (Lucky Barmanns!), I really can't see it happening.

Anyway, first night was Family Night; more specifically, the annual Barmann Christmas Party, which I hope to God they did hold off for me, or I will feel so, so guilty. Anyway, we made pizzas, and there was a monkey pi�ata and we had to wear leis and shit. The pi�ata was the best part. It seemed to mostly be Jimmy's thing: He bought this Oriental hat and one of those big foam fingers and danced around while handing out pirate flags for us to wave as we attacked the poor beast with the various implements he had laid out (saw, crutch, bat, plunger, golf club). I never got a crack it (thank God!) because Dan decapitated it early on, but we all enjoyed our cruddy party favor prizes. I nearly fell over laughing when Amy picked up the bat and started charging at people and waving it around dangerously. Call me a bad influence.

Afterwards, we played some games, and I believed I earned some respect from the family by not being a complete cretin... unlike Missy's past boyfriend (the dirty Mexican!). Taboo first, which I am at least well-versed in, followed by this other game I still don't entirely understand. Each person comes up with ten names, which are put into a hat, and then teams pick out names and try to get the other people to guess them. Maybe I didn't understand the rules (OK, yeah, I fucking did, but I wanted to show them up), so I picked people from the two fields I know best - art faggotry and zombies - leaving pretty much only my scraps of paper in the bowl at the end. I thought maybe they'd be pissed, but Missy later said it was the best thing I could've done, showing them there was someone there who knew things other than them. Then we watched Spice World!!

Missy and I exchanged presents, and I think she liked the earrings (which was the most important part, in my mind). Well, at least her mom does anyway. Before I left that morning, I went to Wal-mart and bought all the glitter-related junk I could find, for silly girl just loves that shit. My gifts had a distinctly Old 97's-related theme, so I don't feel too bad.

God, it's all going to become blurry in my head. We went out to the mall Missy works at the next day. I had been sort of under the impression that the Barmanns were somewhat affluent, and this mall did a lot to confirm that. I felt awash in stores that I would never, ever enter on my own. Missy tried to get me to abuse her J. Crew discount (like everyone else), but I feel too much guilt. I wear homeade Wal-mart t-shirts, for Christ's sakes! I would like a blazer someday, but until I am no longer poor, I don't see it happening. I felt soooo out of place, though. And it would only get worse when we went to Kansas City's outdoor shopping thing, The Plaza, later on in the week. Some of those places, I think maybe even Spritz would've felt uncomfortable again. Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Missy, however, was totally in her zone, which is sort of cute and hilarious to me. But pretty much the only thing I bought all week was a pig lighter from a gas station. It's the cutest fucking thing ever, though! You click his little shriner/Devo hat, and he sprays two flames out of his nose! Worth every penny, adorable motherfucker!

To try and keep some sense of normalcy in my life, each night I read from the Rick Moody book Jimmy had left beside his bed in the role I usurped from him. I dunno why that was so important to me, but I guess I need a little distance all the time... even if it kept me up 'til 3 or 4 sometimes. We tried to go to a bar with a mechanical bull, but all of them wanted us to be 21, and even Shawn is a little cautious out of state. One day we slept all day, one day we got up early to take most of the family to the airport. The plan didn't entirely make sense to me, but who am I to comment? Jimmy shook my hand and said that it was nice to meet me. I figured it was just simple pleasantries, but Missy said it was a big deal. He never would have done it if he hadn't meant it, and therefore, he must have somewhat liked me, even if he didn't say much when I was around. Did I mention I baked cookies? I bet that shit helped!

One day was spent almost entirely with Missy's friends. I still think her best friend Tracy sort of hates me - or hated me - but somehow things have improved. Once upon a time, I've learned, Tracy was not entirely sure I was good enough for Miss, but I apparenty proved myself somehow over the course of the week, so good for me! Although how could anyone not tell I'm pretty much the best ever from the moment they met me? Oh, right. The whole "asshole" thing. Anyway, Tracy, Missy, her friends Amanda and Ashley, and I went out thrifting, which apparently both Ashley and Missy completely despise. I can't complain; I found a cute little kids green raincoat for four bucks. I do believe Missy hates it, but she knows better than to not hold her tongue. It was sort of funny, though, because Missy was pretty much secretly annoyed by her friends the whole time and barely kept it hidden within the surface. Her friend Amanda grated on me a little bit, I must admit. She was going through some HUGE tribulation wherein her ex-boyfriend Kevin (SOOOO glad I know his name!) "accidentally" called her, and now she couldn't decide if she should call him back, even if it was just to tell him to piss off. Pretty much the consensus was to ignore him completely, but she ran the issue back and forth over and over to each new person who got in the car until I finally yelled, "NO. DON'T. CALL. HIM." This may have not been the best course of action. The only thing that kept Amanda from talking about Kevin was talking about the cinematic production of The Phantom of the Opera, which we were going to see that afternoon. Frankly, the girl was going apeshit, having already seen it four or five times thus far (still about a few million times away from making it a box office success, I might add!), singing the songs and talking about the actors all the time. "Did you know blah blah blah is going to be in BEOWULF THE MOVIE!?!?!" Shelly: "How did you keep from hitting her?"

So, we finally go to see the shit (warned in advance that if we spoke ill of the film, she would hate us forever), and pretty much everyone secretly agreed it was somewhere around ass-terrible. I mean, the music was all right (if highly redundant), if you like that sort of thing (I don't). You'd think, as the type of person I am, I would love musicals, and I guess I do like the concept.... but I've never seen it executed in a way I could call "enjoyable." Anyway, the direction was pretty decent (I have to choke back the bile that I am saying this about - gasp! - Joel Schumacher), and the actors were decent (Emmy Rossum was hot, but I had to keep resisting the urge to make snide remarks about her being better in The Day After Tomorrow), but oh my God the story! And worse, the characters! God damn Phantom was so fucking God damned emo. I spent half an hour after the movie doing this little whiny Jew voice going, "My face is so deformed, give me 20,000 francs a month, or I'll be a little bitch! Oh wait, I'll do that anyway! This girl doesn't love me, but I sang?!?!?! for her! I'll drop a chandelier on her! I'm a genius, but my FACEOOOOOOOO Bitch, bitch, bitch!" The only part that genuinely amused me was when they read one of the Phantom's bitch notes as being signed by "O.G." Apparently everyone else knew this stood for "Opera Ghost," but I immediately thought "Original Gangsta" and had to choke back my cackling. Anyway, I held my tongue... for about 3 hours, at which point I might have killed Amanda with my remarks. We were on the rocks for a while after that, but I think things got better on New Year's for reasons we'll eventually get to.

OK, clearly, I did not get this done before Missy arrived, and it's really hard to get back on a train of thought from five days ago. That same night, we also went out with Missy's friend Allison Chang for pizza at some awesome little college place. People wrote all over the walls. "Michelle Cardona is hot" was scrawled next to me. If word somehow spread to Kansas about the girl I am thinking of from Serena, then yes, indeed, quite hot. From there, back to Missy's for some TURBO Cranium, which is just like Cranium except it has this horrible, horrible electronic device instead of a timer and dice. I couldn't figure the fucker out at first, so mostly it would just keep playing this looping longass tune time and again. We eventually figured out this was the timer, and what a good one it was. It's hard as hell to hum a song - or even talk - when Boomblaster 3000 is pumping beats at 180 decibels. But I exaggerate. Missy and I were on a team, and - despite her complete lack of what we might call, um, "talent" for the game - we still managed to win. During one of the rounds where Missy had to manipulate Julie to try and get me to guess something, they laughed so hard that someone farted. I assumed it was Julie. I assumed wrong. So at least we're through that barrier now.

Boy unfastens bra strap deftly, with one hand.
Girl: How did you get so good at that?
Boy: I rightly have no idea.

Erm - and then? More shopping or whatever maybe - at that anxiety-inducing Plaza place. And a huge tub of popcorn - regularly priced at 40 some dollars. That makes sense. New Year's Eve we went to Amanda's house, for hers is the only place where we could safely make Jello shots. They have two huge dogs I affectionately named Cujo 1 & 2 (like I could tell the difference), and we sat and listened to the "Phantom" soundtrack while we waited for the water to boil. Faster, water, faster! God damn! There was a desperate search for more alcohol that kept leading to sideways glances in my direction. Sorry, girls. Sean (God, I love his name!) already barely looks a thing like me, and the out of state license would not help.

That night, we went out with Tracy and her boyfriend Frank. I was prompted as follows by Missy: "Everyone likes Frank. You're going to hate him." Wait, what? "He'll probably hate you as well." Oh! Fun evening then! Actually, it didn't turn out bad at all. Once we had taken our requisite shots at one another for our respective majors ("Advertising is for sell-out hacks with no integrity." "Journalism is for dry bores with no imagination." "Oh, like Hemingway?" "Hemingway's dead, dude."), we got on pretty well. He has a lisp or something confusing, but he can't really be held accountable for that. We went out to dinner at some chain fake vaguely-exotic place - Elephant Bar or something? I dunno - I had some sweet tea.

From there, it was back to Amanda's to meet up with everyone and head on over to Lawrence, KS. Here's what I don't understand about girls, being somewhat behind the scenes in at least this current configuration. They act all lovey dovey and shit, but then there's so much scheming and talking behind backs that it all seems silly to me. For instance, so Frank, Tracy, Missy, and I went out for dinner, right? Well, we didn't want Amanda to come along, so we had to act like we had gone to different places by ourselves so as to not offend anyone. It's so weird and sneaky. Anyway, off to Lawrence! Julie rode with me and Miss, which is fortunate, because I think Julie is my favorite of all of Missy's friends, possibly because, like me, she has a lazy eye and a ganglion cyst. I think we drove Missy fairly crazy, covertly downing Jello shots along the drive while Missy couldn't do shit. She made up for lost time real quick, however. She downed about 12 shots as soon as we got there. "Oh, I had a lot more than that," she corrects me. Well, 12 in the first 5 minutes is still a God damned lot. Anyway, we arrived amongst these strangers and then all crammed into the back of someone's car (Missy still downing shot after shot) so as to go to the Asian fraternity (???) whose party we would be attending that evening. Amazingly, in the ten minutes it took us to get there and get our affairs settled, Missy was suddenly trashed beyond reason, hiding the Jello shots in a bush so that only select parties would be allowed access. I promptly made strides towards getting my ass kicked. This dumb ass Indian guy in the frat just kept talking about how he was gonna have to Instigate and maybe Kick Some Asses. "Seriously, man. I have to be the Instigator, Fuck Some People Up, if necessary." I promptly started in on him with Tracy, just screaming "instigate," "fuck," and "ass" as much as possible. "Dude, I'm right in front of you," he says. "WHOOPS LOL," says I, running outside to make sure Missy wasn't dead on the highway (promptly earning further scolding from our Instigating friend - "You guys have to get your Asses back in here, or the cops will Fuck You Up!" You hack) Missy ran around like a whirlwind, introducing me to people multiple times and trying to get free booze, beads, or pot out of a crowd remarkably protective of all three. She used her feminine wiles (certainly not her boobies) to get a fuckload of beads (mostly from her lovably Ashton Kutchery friend Brandon) while I did what I do best to get free cups out of Julie's ex-boyfriend. By which I mean, lie. Ah, the inner workings of a collegeman's heart. I know all the twists and turns. First, I earn his trust by revealing the location of the rumored Jello shots. Then, some stimulating chit chat on my part about basketball (God forbid, on my part!) and other fairly stale things. "Hell yes, I voted for Bush!" Shudder. I feel filthy. Finally, a little later on, "Oh, man - we totally paid for our cups, but we lost track of them (Man, I'm so drunk). Could you hook a brother up?" "You're not bullshitting me, are you?" "Of course not." "Look me in the eye and say it." "Dude, we paid for cups." Apparently my eyes do not lie. Missy continued to drunkenly lurch around as I did my best to keep up with her. As this was an Asian frat, a gaggle of AzN ho's shuffled in and tried to dance all sexy (despite the obvious detriment of all being hideous). Missy leapt in the midst of them and started grinding up on their asses, followed by falling over some, still lugging around her bottle of rum. Then things started to go bad.

This was to be the year I finally got to kiss someone on New Year's. I know, what a queer thing to concern one's self with, but jeez, how long has it been? I mean, I could never see Lisa around this time, so she was out. Years spent at Maly's mediocre parties left me with nothing but Ducky (or passing out on the couch with Spritz and Jen, watching the "South Park" movie), but this was a sure thing! Well, obviously there are no sure things. Missy's buzz was running thin, leaving her a drunken mess ready to collapse. She lilted her way into someone's room and pretty much decided to never move again. Heads kept popping in and kept scurrying off when they decided we were probably going to bop. In fact, this one fat guy wouldn't leave until I confirmed his little air punch "Are you gonna do her?" hand motion. Anyway, Tracy and Frank were nowhere to be found (Sexxing in a car was the most popular rumor), but Amanda and Julie popped in to help me take care of her. But, I think Julie's ex-boyfriend was hassling her, so there was some sort of an issue, and suddenly I am kicked out of the room by Amanda for a few minutes of "girl time." This is at 11:57. I saunter to a field or a church or something, lie down, look up at the sky, and start to sing: "Here's to another God damned New Year." I hear the others count and scream, and I think, "Lord, are you trying to make me emo?" Eventually, I wander inside again, and eventually someone is sent looking for me, because Missy is apparently freaking out. "WHERE'S MY KISS" Oh, Miss. :) While Julie goes out into the hall to argue with her boyfriend and Amanda goes out to flirt with some horrible, horrible little Asian booger called... God, what was his name? Uggy? I dunno, but he had a voice like poison. In the meantime, Tracy came back just as Missy began to feel ill. I was handling the situation well, having been there before. Missy's hair was tied back, and a garbage can was set up, and WHOOSH there we go. But now the beads that Missy had worked so hard for were choking her, and they were too tangled for her drunken brain to remove, so it was up to me and Tracy. I lifted up Miss, who immediately would let fly a stream of profanities and threats, while Tracy tried to remove some of the beads. The whole time we giggled and Missy puked, which I suppose is rude, but nobody's perfect. Once we finally cleared her all up, Missy tossed the beads in the trash on top of her puke and let fly again, which just added to our hysterics. "Yeah, Missy, fuck those beads!" She conked out for a while, and I sat rubbing her back, while the party surged around her. I think this is how I finally got Amanda and Tracy to like me. I was finally good enough for her.

After a while (and several more awful visits from Uggy), the plan was to drive back to Brandon's place, but first we had to get Missy up. "Good choice with these pink heels, Miss." Excellent for drunken walking. We got her out, and then plenty more time was wasted trying to gather other drunkos, but we all know what a lost cause that was. Back to Brandon's, where Missy had to be physically dragged from the car ("I'm sleeping here!!"), kicking and screaming, leaving her just enough energy to stumble in the door and pass out on the floor. Everyone else occupied with their own concerns, that left me no choice but to lie on the floor and guard her. Cold as fuck with no pillow or anything, I tried to sleep. This would prove impossible with the horrible idiot stoner crowd lurking about. First and foremost on my hate list was this redhead (of course) named Jen ("As in 'Jen and Juice' as she repeatedly pointed out). I should've known she was bad news when she had burst into the room at the frat to yell, "OH MY GOD I LOVE INCUCBUS" followed by some stupid little dance. Anyway, she was a horror and all she would talk about was how she really wanted pot or how much she loved pot or pot pot pot pot, and the dude sitting next to her was trying to hit that, I think, so he kept egging her on. "Man, I'm, like, totally hungry! Talk about munchies ahahahahahahahaha" "Yeah, me too! What is your favorite food?!" "Pot brownies ahahahahahahahahahhaa" And so on and on. Left alone in this little island world (all others being hit on and humped, I believe), I did my best to focus on D2: The Mighty Ducks on TV. Hours passed, the Ducks were at their darkest hour, and that redhead bitch was still talking! Freezing and bored, I thought about slamming my head in the front door when Missy came to, a good deal more coherent than she had been. An attempt was made to sleep in the hallway, away from the cold (I lent her my socks) and that red thing, quickly deemed a failure, and then a new plan was formulated: get the fuck out. I really hadn't drank anything since those Jello shots... fuck, five hours ago, so I was good to go. Unfortunately, to get Missy's keys, we needed Missy's purse, which was locked in Frank's car, so we needed Frank, and there were nothing but mysterious, closed doors all around. What to do but send tiny drunko bursting in on all of them?! Hey, it worked. We got the keys and got the fuck out. Happy new year.

Missy regained enough composure to explain to her parents that we were back early (say, 4 am), and we crashed. It did not really dawn on us that Julie and Amanda were sort of stranded without us, so there was another trip the next morning. And then the laziest day ever. I sort of watched (mostly slept through) the KU basketball game. I guess I must have missed something, as Dick Vitale called it "the best game of all time." OUTRAGEOUS BABY Later on, we went out for coffee and movies and got into an argument about Blockbuster's new "No late fee" policy. We were in line behind some bitch who kept explaining that although he owed eight dollars in late fees, now that it was "the end of late fees," he shouldn't have to pay them anymore. That was his entire argument. "But sir, you've already been charged for those. Our policy is no further late fees." "THE END OF LATE FEES" Party Monster was sort of a lo-quality masterpiece (Mostly by way of giant talking rat), and Poolhall Junkies climbs my top ten list. It's a shallow film maybe, but what a shallow film!

Next day were goodbyes, which were sad and earlier than expected. I have nothing else to say about that.

Poop Story #2: After more than a few of these trips to and from Kansas, I've gotten to be fairly excellent at pissing in a bottle while driving. Unfortunately, Number Two still poses some problems for me, especially when it sneaks up on me like some sort of smelly jungle cat. I stopped in Independence, MO, with plans to get some gas and more batteries for my Walkman when suddenly Nature called. Rather, Nature punched down the door and started strangling family members. So I started frantically driving down some crazy back road (apparently Independence was not the sprawling metropolis I had been led to believe), passing Jiffy Lubes and weird seafood fast food place, but not a single gas station. Finally, with alarm bells ringing like mad in my bowels, I pulled up in the driveway of some children's daycare, ran behind my car, popped a squat, and let hell fly. Pretty much right in front of the damn place. And I swear to God, this was a unique poop even in a lifetime of unique poops. I made a mound the size of my damn head, I swear. It was the color of camels and lumpy like tuna. How confusing it was be for these poor Missourians the next morning, I thought, as I hurriedly wiped and then hauled my ass out of there. Another classy moment for the memoirs.

There was no reason to believe that there could ever be a monsoon in January, but wait - there's a monsoon every time I drive home! Why should the weather matter? So while tensions were high and the music was... basically lousy, I downed grape soda and trucker pills and made it home in time for a pineapple milkshake at Taffies with the gang. What stupid taste I have.