03/27/2005 - 2:22 p.m. | and folding out mysteriously

Finally, an excellent review! And from a seaman, no less!

billehcee: hey man its bill, i'm back on land, just wanna let you know that your diary was good reading when i was sailing around and had nothing else to do except sit at the compter and wait 10 minutes for your page to load up

I found this blue homemade... bracelet thing... on the floor of... somewhere, so I've started wearing it on my ankle. I feel like such a hippie! I mean the memory loss, specifically.

Did you know that anorexic kids have a secret decoder ring? Well, not quite, but they do wear red beaded bracelets so they can recognize one another. Jury's still out on whether this means they are proud of their disease or are trying to show recovery. Anyway, it would be fun to wear one and maybe meet them sometimes on the street and exchange knowing nods, but the main flaw is that the bracelets are all exceedingly ugly. I thought you kids cared about appearances!! Go throw up in the sink, waifish heroin addict!

Dear Editors of Maxim, I am not as interested in Jennifer Love Hewitt's breasts as you think.

I feel like I've been mucking up stuff for others without even being aware of it. So if you feel affronted...

The Illini won yesterday. It was a tense game; as Smacko put it, "BILL MURRAY JUST FORGOT HE WAS IN GARFIELD THE MOVIE." What led to victory? Do you think it was because of Dee Brown's amazing shots or the wonderful motivational skills of Deron Williams or sitcom dad Bruce Weber? NO. It was because I was reading aloud from a site that reviews various adult massage parlors. It is fun reading about men who pay for sex and then describe it in intricate detail. Spritz was happy (as was the reviewer) that the place in Decatur so willingly gives rimjobs. Also, we'll have to start saying "tit screw" more often.

Negro Joe = Me.
Spic Rick = Kyle.
Towelhead Randy = Spritz.

Smacko has developed the best nicknames. I threw up some last night. Not so much from the alcohol, but for the vast quantity of cranberry juice in my tummy. Oh yeah - and then a fucking pound of Hungry Man dinner! None of us could drive, so Smacko and I walked. We tried to knock over the big wooden sign, fear of splinters in our eyes set aside, but we are ineffective destructors. On the plus side, he found a whole bucket full of ass fucking bars.

I cleaned my room, and it only took 7 hours. But now it seems so cold and empty. There is motivation behind my befouling then, huh? We got Left Behind II: Tribulation Force in the mail the other day and viewed it last night. I am glad that Smacko and I are the only two secular people in the world who know the name and major plot points of that series of books and movies. Nothing has topped the dramatic black man's kick in the nuts by Jesus "OH GOD~~~~~!" but the Antichrist's face distorting through PowerGoo and making a dinosaur noise is fair enough. We will count down until the third.

And does it have Oscar-winning actor Louis Gossett Jr.? Oh yes. It does.

If we play our cards right, and based upon the production company's past films, cast lists in the future could include Judd Nelson, Burt Reynolds, Mr. T, Gary Busey, or Howie Mandel!

I like writing about things you are not interested in.

We had some appletinis at Yousaf's the other night. Perhaps I am merely trying to move one step closer to J.D. (as everyone speculates), but I found them infinitely better than of the other rubbing alcohol mixtures I consumed that night.

Now, regarding my hair: I alternate between thinking it should stick straight up or be flat as ... ... the Alkali Flats. :| What do you think?

I promise I'll write something more intriguing later.