03/31/2005 - 3:56 p.m. | all these poses of classical torture

Don't let the build-up fool you; it's just some normal boring ass entry, OK? Get used to them.

When I was a little kid, I remember reading this book called Fortunately or something. In it, good and bad stuff would happen back and forth. So, it'd be like, "Fortunately, I got free sky diving lessons. Unfortunately, they forgot to pack my parachute. Fortunately, I fell onto a haystack. Unfortunately, the haystack was filled with needles." And so on. Then, for a project, we had to write our own versions. This had a two-fold effect on my life. One, I knew how to spell "fortunately" about ten years earlier than everyone else did. It definately helped that it contained my name ;) But! Ever since then, pretty much the only way I can think is through fortunately-unfortunately's.

Fortunately, I kicked some ass on the child psych test. And then, in an effort to affect the curve in my favor, I had this awful piece of Bubble Tape I just kept popping over and over. And we were in Lincoln Hall, so motherfucker echoed!

Unfortunately, I never want to have children ever ever ever! I ran through like half of the textbook the night before, and the whole book is mostly filled with fear of how much you can fuck your kids up. [There was also a helpful example about how children�s brains work, and it described exactly how my eyes got so fucked up. See, when you are born, your brain has far more connections than it needs, but as you grow a little, your brain starts to hack away at the synapses you don�t use. So, I happened to have one eye weaker than the other, so if I tried to use them together, my vision would be blurry. As such, I just used the one, and my brain started getting rid of shit that made me use both. Bam, amblyopia!] But mostly it talks about all the ways kids can end up, what temperament configurations are possible, but they don't really go into how to control them at all. They mostly love sighing, "It's nature and nurture!" So maybe you want them to be sociable but then they're probably loud and edgy and mean. Or if you want them to be strong and adaptable and they close off and seem cold to everyone around them. Which set of flaws do I want them to have? Oh I can't choose, so none children. None mothers.

Of course, this sentiment may have been exacerbated by a series of phone calls from my mother. One where she sobbed so much as to be incomprehensible. I later learned this was because I did not visit for Easter. And not so much that I didn't visit as I am the type of person who doesn�t want to visit his family over Easter. I might be the one to argue that no one actually wants to visit their family for Easter; they simply feel horribly obligated most of the time, but I won�t go there. In short, my mom was sad that she had raised me not to care about family. Well, it�s not that I don�t care so much� OK, so some of them maybe I don�t care on, but I love my mom and my dad and my grandma and a handful of others. I just... care way too much about my own free time. Pretty much the only commitments I ever want are the ones I choose, and I think most people are the same way when you get right down to it. It�s easy as hell to look dedicated if it only takes a half hour drive to visit someone, but what family members have come the two and a half down to see me? And yeah, I may be the definition of selfish, but there you go. If Ducky lived half an hour away instead of 4, I�d probably be his best friend, following him around and annoying him as he tried to do frat things. Instead, I make due with the occasional visit I get. Same thing with anybody. If family was right next door, I�d see them for all the stupid events. Happy Arbor Day - let's go have some Arbor Day cake, bitches. I just don�t see the point of going so far out of my way to see people who have to pretend to like me as compared to staying here and being with people who actually do. Forgive me if I�m a little incoherent.

Unfortunately, both Tony and Buttsex have quit Legends, so no more bingo from them. Ever! Fortunately, Kyle has been trying to talk to them, so maybe they will still come and sit with us and heckle the newbie. I heard she�s fat. You know my feelings on fat people.

Fortunately, eMall.com is fucking back, baby! I got a call the other day, and the person on the line was like, �Uh, this is Jeremy Mancini, and I was just trying to figure out who this is.� �Uh, Nate Walsh�?� �Welcome back to eMall, motherfucker!� Neither of us really mentioned how he and Huge Black Man Dorian Earl blew my ass off last winter, him mumbling some shit about me "having things going on." Oh hell no! I am me, I think, so I think I would recall having things going on then. Wait, let�s go check this substantial archive of my life. Hmmmmmm� NOPE. NO THINGS. WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO?

Unfortunately, they blew me off all over again. I met the guy at Panera on my break at work, and he was like, �Come to IHOP Thursday night at 8. We�re gonna have a special room reserved and everything.� Oh Christ, the power you wield, you kings of the internet. But! More than likely their actions couldn't equal their boasts because when I showed up at IHOP at the proper time, no one was there. "Oh shit - we can't actually get ourselves a whole area reserved! Are you nuts?!" I sat and waited for half an hour, ignoring the pitying looks from the waitstaff and doing crossword puzzles next to these two big fat ladies. �Girl, my booty can�t even fit on this bench!� �Mine either, girl! What about you?� �My booty is pointy as hell, ma�am. It�s fitting just fine.� And so much for that renewed excursion. Smacko eventually came to meet me, and we went home to drink, buy him some shrooms, and watch the Discovery Channel, as we couldn�t find the damn remote. Two damn hours of �Xtreme Martial Arts,� which was supposed to be a detailed look at the science behind martial arts. In actuality, it was more like the blog of this faggot who was trying to get back into the professional circuit, intercut with stupid Matrix shots of glowing blue and orange skeletons kicking each other in the face. Glowsticks abound. �He can kick with over a ton of force! But his opponent has learned to withstand such attacks,� as they show the bone cracking. I'm learning. I'm LEARNING!

Unfortunately, I had garlic breath that would not die. During the barcrawl, I stopped at generic White Hen place to buy some gum or mints. They had a minimum amount for credit cards, so now I am a pile of mints and gum. And I still smell like ass.

Fortunately, I�ve been going to class, not paying attention. Kyle has his laptop now, so I can use his Gameboy sometimes without him minding (I think). In Media Ethics, the world expert of condoms (self-declared), came in to speak on condoms. How did I still learn nothing? Nothing nothing nothing! I was going to say that the ancient Egyptians used to draw pictures of the gods on their condoms, but then I remembered that was a myth, so yeah... still nothing.

Most fortunately of all was Smacko's discovery of The Bill Cosby Fun Game, pretty much the best thing any of us have ever seen. See, you're Bill Cosby, and you're in legal trouble, so you need some fast cash. What's the thing to do? Lure people to you with delicious Jello pudding cups and then smash them over the head with a Kodak camera! Then, poke them into the hole you dug in your Cosby Cave! "Merry Christmas." The sounds alone make the game worth playing, especially the little song you sing if you commit suicide. Here's a hint, though: Don't try messing with no Carl Winslow. He is just as desparate as you.

Unfortunately, I can�t remember what else I wanted to write. Deal with it.