02/23/2005 - 12:06 a.m. | when i am older than all these goddamned hills

I am playing a tricky game with my finances. Apparently when the browser fucked up the other day while paying the cable bill, said bill was not actually paid, leading to a loss of internet that had to be immediately rectified by running over to Dank's and throwing down $200 online without a thought as to how much money I actually did have (also stealing 20 phonebooks). Back home, basking in our newly-restored connection (It was a long 35 minutes!), I checked my bank balance. Not $200. HOWEVER! Any moment now, telemarketing should be placing $160 in my account, which would plant me squarely in the black, if not what we'd call a rich man. THEN we simply deposit the crossing guard check that I can only pray is waiting for me at the police station, and I really can't see how any of this could be considered a problem by anyone.

Again, I must apologize for my lack of updates lately. The first part of last week was hectic, I was in Kansas for the next part, and though I had an amazingly strong urge to write Sunday night, I thought better of it. I've done drunk entries before, but this would have been a whole new caliber. I was L. Ron Hubbard Drunk, to the point where I started expounding (to myself) on some insane life philosophy about how we're all dead anyway, so why should I care about anything, money is useless, etc. I figured you didn't need to hear that. Writing Under the Influence only tends to make me more enemies.

There was good news, however! Everybody played some trickery on me, although a good deal more than was actually necessary for me in the state I was in. Anyway, I came home to discover that my station wagon had been covered in like fifty of those magnetic "Support Our Troops" ribbons and the like. You cannot believe how silly it looks; I'm still not to the point where I can't not giggle when I see it again. I have been getting some angry looks, I must say. In fact, I'm sure this is about the most surefire way to get one's self arrested or shot, but that is hardly a penalty for a ride such as my own.

Bingo wasn't good in any standard sense, but I was having a riot just existing in a world with bingo by that point, so it hardly mattered. Heh heh - last week, this girl with a broken leg was hardcore flirting with me, I think, and to see me again this week, I think filled her with some sort of embarrasment, as she was all like, "Oh no!" when she saw me. Don't blame me, psycho! I don't reach out to you lunatics; I only respond to your antics. Maybe you thought that me saying I'd do anything for the Wizards & Witches clipart CD or letting you sign my nipple in silver permanent marker was some sort of flirtation, but I will do those things for anyone who has a Wizards & Witches CD-ROM (I gave you three bucks for that piece of shit, didn't I?) or who wants to sign my nipple. Drunk or sober! So when you scrawl your e-mail address on a napkin and tell me to send you some clipart, that is all I will do. I am above and beyond your simple ideas about courting rituals! I'm just saying. Pretty much I could just exist in euphoria altogether.

Does everyone love Craig Ferguson as the new host of "The Late Late Show" on CBS? I have an unholy bias, as his accent makes it such that everything he says is perfect and makes me shudder to climax, etc, etc.

I sort of forgot how much I love Rufus Wainwright until the drives to and from Kansas wherein I listened to "Want One" like six times. He is my generation's Michael Stipe in that a) he is gay and b) every word he sings is completely incomprehensible. This does little to stop me from yelling at the top of my lungs, trying to at least match him in tone and rhythm, and even then I still sort of suck hard.

Here is a question for all you ladies: Is she giving me the eye or is she just checking to see if creepy Nate is staring still? This could apply to any number of people (Strangely Appealing Girl at Work, Cute Artfag Babysitter I Cross the Guard for Sometimes, I mean you).

Missy's was good. Kansans are fat. There were a lot of fat Kansans wearing ugly purple sweatshirts. Like, I know we wear a lot of stupid orange here, but somehow our color comes off as less obnoxious than theirs. Uh, as far as what we did? Ran errands, shopped in cute little local stores (Too poor to buy anything), ate a lot, slept a lot. On Friday night, it was the usual bizarre situation with me as the only male in a group of like 10 girls, all of whom apparently do not like each other very much but are also too nice to actually try and stop being friends. This led to some rather amusing drunken conflict throughout the night. I tried to just stand back and watch, as Missy ran around, tumbling over and calling them bitches. Not that she was entirely in the wrong - we were basically dragged to some house for what should have even be jokingly referred to as a party: a lot of fat, ugly people sitting around and watching the first Batman movie on TV. We got yelled at for trying to have any sort of fun at all. As such, I was ordered by Missy to take what hygeine products I could from everyone's bathroom. Done and done. The second house was better, as at least there was music (although, if there wasn't, it might go a long way as to explain why that girl was so unnerved that I was screaming "Say It Ain't So" at here. And much Oasis) and foosball (Me vs. 2 Random Drunk Ho's - Yeah, boy!!!) and some vaguely friendly dog. Alcohol makes smelly dogs bearable to me. I'm not entirely sure who was made at whom, but I was glad Erica was not because she is fairly damn attractive, and should Missy ever decide to involve a third party, I would like her at the top of the nomination list. Hey - don't blame me; that's just the note I wrote for myself in the bathroom of somewhere.

Two movies we watched: Bringing Out the Dead, which has been at the top of my Nic Cage list for a while now. I think I mostly liked it - the soundtrack was strange, and I would like to edit the movie and string together all the sped up driving sequences, to be set to "No Live Has Singed Her" by Pavement, but I don't know if that counts as a review. The second in our theme night (Movies with "Dead" in the title starring Tom Sizemore) was Pauly Shore is Dead, written, directed by, and starring the very same. Pretty much, it was the story of how Pauly Shore's life was in the shitter since he has, you know, no talent, so he decides to fake death to regain popularity. It was pretty bad, I suppose, but in a different, admirable way as compared to Pauly Shore movies. He didn't really pull any punches at all, right down to the scene where he is so poor, all he has to jack off to is the back cover of a porno he once owned. Why was that my example? Also, he pretty much had a cameo by every major semi-celebrity ever, and that takes some sort of charisma or something. Sean Penn, Chris Rock, Ellen DeGeneres, Pam Anderson, Britney Spears, Fred Durst, Vince Vaughn, all three Hansons, both Hiltons, Kato Kaelin, Adam Sandler, Montel, and dozens more besides. It made me laugh a lot, but that's hardly a rave review. Ditto Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter. I've sort of made it my personal mission to remake that movie. I don't why that movie, of all movies, needs to be redone, but it feel the compulsion, and who am I to question God's son?

Why it is bad to give your change to the homeless: Because when you want to buy an adult novelty from the machine in the gas station bathroom, you will not have enough quarters. None given, none taken.