01/24/2005 - 9:04 a.m. | ________ as ________

Kyle IMs: last entry best done in private via email or something and not polluting teh diary with homegrown diaryland drama

I would have to disagree here, my friend. The very reason there is an issue at all is the public nature of this diary. Anyone can - and, in theory, might already - read this diary - with total anonymity. Who knows how many nerves I am touching without my knowledge, leaving them stewing inside until the point when they finally creep up behind me and put a hatchet to my head. The only discourse, then, is a public response to a what may only have been a small glimpse at the problems I'm causing. It's like everyone around is a mind reader, and I just have to keep thinking, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry It's natural" just so that they know that while I may be thinking of them naked, everyone else is probably doing the same thing. Human nature and whatnot.

Incidentally, the best advertising campaign I've seen in a while is the fake billboards from the fictitious Coalition of Responsible and Attentive Parents preaching, "Hip hop rots your brain," later "defaced" with graffiti and ads for a new local hip hop label. That was a good one, guys. Especially since it's fooled nearly everyone.

Meanwhile, if we look to the trailer of the upcoming Charlie & the Chocolate Factory remake, it should be just about the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life. Animal tranquilizers (in vast sums) will be required just to keep from screaming in terror all the way through, especially if.... that song... *shudder* was set on loop as I can only hope and pray. I'm so excited people are out there deliberately trying to freak us out.

Have I told you what I would do if things went as planned and I suddenly became a deity of some sort? I would not be the shy kind, keeping to my castle in the sky and watching as the silly people bash each other in the face with rocks. No, no, I would make many appearances to many people. However, as a God of some sort, I assume I would know all things and would therefore be aware of every small pet peeve any of these oracles would have. I would capitalize on this a good day. Say Delphi or whoever really hates it when people say the word "especially" like "ex-pecially." Well, fuck, I'd do it like 20, 30 times in a conversation. And they'd wonder later, "Wait, is God fallible?" No, bitch, I'm just fuckin' wit you.

In the meantime, let us appreciate the small miracle of children. I sound like the minister on "7th Heaven," but they have been impressing me a fair amount lately. The only girl I cross the guard for who I am sort of friends with (Angeltina, I think her name is)was, you know, crossing one cold morning, and she asks, "Hey, why aren't you wearing gloves?" Displaying the maturity present in being over three times her age, I replied, "Why aren't you wearing gloves? So we made a deal that we would both wear them that afternoon. And we did. And waved them at each other. And her mom was all happy, like, "Now if you can just get her to wear a hat." I wish I could be a babysitter.

Furthermore, Missy was telling me of this eighteen month old who came into J. Crew while she was working the other day. The girl was pushing her own stroller around, except she wasn't tall enough to see around it, so mostly she kept smashing into things. Since Missy is that sort of person, she sort of babysat the girl while her mom shopped. Turns out this little girl really liked shoes, so she kept grabbing display models and running over to hand them to Missy again and again. She also had a little charm bracelet on and, though she couldn't talk really, she answered Missy's questions and showed her favorite charm and whatnot. Now established as friends, the little girl would occasionally crash her stroller into Missy and then giggle. See, this is what I worry about. How am I going to get kids as cool as this? I mean, I'll train them as best I can, obviously, but some of this lies in genetics, and I'm not sure if mine would ever add up to anything so awesome.

I won 15 toothbrushes (??) at bingo and traded three of them for this hideous wallet that says "BOSS" on it in huge letters. Kyle won the Shambo (with an unfortunately mediocre prize), so we leapt around and hugged each other. Apparently he grabbed my ass in front of everyone. We also all grabbed Tony's ass. It was almost painfully loud at Team Tourettes that night, and who was weird sort of heroiny chick at our table? Weirdass spicy chicken nuggets and a strangely pleasing selection of movies at Yousaf's followed: Bring It On and Josie & The Pussycats.

Not that he particularly needs me, but I think I might be the only person with a real vested interest in Andy's next movie. And this is despite the fact that my lines as Scorpion are pretty much the best ever. Anyhow, God damn Bashes dropped out of the movie, despite the fact that it was pretty much made around them in their image. Honestly, two giant Mexican twins are such an interesting, unusual image and idea that I'm not sure the project can be the same without them. Andy and I had an emergency script meeting where we tried to find other twins, but apparently it is some sort of genetic rarity. Go figure. In desperation, I actually attempted bribing them (without Andy's knowledge), offering them $30 in either "World of Warcraft" (a month each) or weed (exact amount unknown, but hopefully a henry, because that is the cutest name for an eighth ever). No dice. Anyhow, it appears I may be playing two parts now, both as Scoprion and as one of the two Mafia goons the Bashes were supposed to be playing. Kyle will be the other. But what will our schtick be? I wish I were a huge Mexican twin sometimes.