05/03/2005 - 9:02 a.m. | i wish you weren't so wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide

Well, we've learned we are just as intolerant to caffeine now as we were two years ago (when we took 2 No-Doz at the factory and proceeded to think Harve was lurking in the shadows, waiting to stab me with a dagger - also that whole mashed potato craving thing). I was at Smoothie King with Tebben and while he flirted with the grosso beerslut working the counter, I noticed this sign on the door: "We now have REDLINE." This would be their company's version of Redbull and, as always, intrigued by these sorts of things, I grabbed a can and started reading. You know it's good when the drink has as many warnings on it as a prescription allergy medicine. "Always begin with one half-can to assess tolerance." "Never exceed more than two cans daily or more than one can in a four hour period." "Do not consume on an empty stomach." Blah blah blah do not use if you are on a MAO inhibitor (Dr. Science knows this is because the product contains yohimbe - the same as in penis enlargement products, if I recall - and when mixed, may cause comas, death, whatever), keep out of reach of children, do not use if pregnant or nursing, if you have prostate enlargement, allergies, etc., etc., etc. And this happy slogan: FEEL THE FREAK / FEEL THE FREEZE / WATCH THE FAT DROP / OFF WITH EASE! Clearly, this is the beverage for me. So, I disregarded Tebben's advice and only cannonballed the one. It had the bitter taint that tells you this is going to fuck you hard. Still, I can see how this shit could make you lose weight. I just sat there for the rest of my shift and sweat. My back was soaked when I left, for no other reason other than this mysterious can of pink I just drank. Could not stop drumming. [Odd Freudian slip: Originally wrote, "Could not stop drumming penis."] Started crying a little for some reason. All of this great. I stopped at Qdoba after work if only to get some food in my body to try and fight this shit. Met with limited success, as it was like 4 am soon enough, and I was still rolling around like Ray Charles in heroin withdrawl. I had myself convinced I was going to make an appointment with a shrink this very day.

Of course, shit only begets shit, and now I'm thinking, "Hell, I'm going to need another can just to survive today if I'm going to want time to study for exams, go to work (I could use 30 dollars...) and watch The Sandlot 2 with Smacko this evening." This is not the right answer, my friends.

As always, I took some notes:

"Why would she talk like a robot?" regarding the one lady who purposely tried to sound like a machine on her voicemail. We have the technology to just, you know, record you as you. I was on a shuttle or something once, and it made all of its announcements in a robot voice. You're a recording, you spaz. Why record that? It made sense to me at the time.

"you know what i was thinking about? the leprechaun movies." They are awesome. Warwick Davis, the most famous little person in the world, be all killin' everyone who takes even a damn piece of his gold. Heidi from "Home Improvement" got killed by him, I think, and he definitely made at least one sequel specifically to his "In the Hood" movie. It should be law that all of these are watched by America. The first boobs I ever saw were in a Leprechaun movie. I was at Erin Wheeler's house (trailer?) and she had me close my eyes right until the exact moment they appeared. See, the leprechaun made the one guy think he was walking to a hot girl with naked boobs, but it turned out the hot girl was really an industrial-sized fan! THAT'S GOTTA HURT!!!

A poem I wrote (in a box):

i'm such a bad person in regards to my half-flirtations

"i have a scar in the shape of a cross on my knuckle [you should see pictures]. i do believe this makes me the Chosen One."

"i cannot draw zombies." Why must my greatest flaws always lie in the areas I need them the least?! I mean, I tried to draw Jeff Tweedy from memory, but it just looked like shit.

"my endearing stutter." I've found that if you occasionally fuck up your script on purpose, people are more likely to feel sorry for you and be a little less mean.

"Sometimes I feel like stepping out for a smoke. There's something really cool about craving something that'll kill you."

I was talking to Allison Helm, and apparently another thing I don't remember about the party was making peace with Emily Johns. That's good, though. We should keep the people who strongly dislike me down to a definite minimum.