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� 05/03/2005 - 9:36 a.m. | together we'll wreak havoc you and me Let's write about the weekend, huh? Another unfortunate addiction I blame on Kyle. He and his damn internet jerky. Now I can't stop craving the shit, but of course I don't have the funds for his fancy shit, so I'm stuck with whatever terrible shite they have at the gas station. Always the same brand, Ted Meat or whatever. And always with one of those little packets in it they usually use to keep shoes dry. Oh, sure. That's reassuring. It's my dark secret, though, so don't tell Melissa. I drowned the flavor in mints before I got to her on Thursday night. It was a fast drive. Part of the reason I was coming so early, weaving elaborate tales to the Urbana Police Dept. and whatnot, was that Missy was going to be subbing for her mom's high school French class the next day, and I totally wanted to get in on that. Either I'd get all dressed up and pretend to be her aide or dress all high school (like I know what that means) and pretend to be an Scottish exchange student. Either way, the afternoon would've ended with Missy going on a piss break and me standing up and asking, "So, who wants to know what Miss Barmann's like in the sack?" Perhaps sensing this, Mrs. Barmann forbade me from coming, which left me in the bizarre position of being alone in her house with her dad. Not that Mr. Barmann's a bad guy or anything... but when he invited me out to lunch with him ("to bond" as Missy kept putting it... and then laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole situation), I didn't know what the fuck we were going to talk about. And seriously, nothing against him - he's a really sweet guy, but there's only about ten people in the whole world I can eat a meal alone with and not feel uncomfortable. It's not like I was going to ask him to play "Guess Which of Your Daughter's Orifaces My Junk Has Been In" or anything - [I kid, I kid! Everyone knows I cannot function as a normal sexual being. In fact, the only two thing that will actually get me off is reading detailed descriptions of the various plastic surgery Brooke Burke has had, simultaneously looking at pictures of her to imagine the work being performed in real time. Damn, I'm all hot and bothered. And erotic Polaroids. That would do the job, too. As soon as I get some. Get some Polaroids, I mean.] - but still, we were from two very different generations here, and I could already tell we did not see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. For instance, trying to pick something innocuous and discuss books, I learned that he absolutely hated A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (one of my top five favorites currently), couldn't finish it, claiming that Dave Eggers "had a huge opportunity to raise that little boy" but instead had been so irresponsible, always late for things, living like slobs, etc. and had ruined his big chance. And I loved the book for the very seem reasons, that he was just a young lazy guy like myself, thrust into this bizarre situation, and he was dealing with it the best he could while trying to maintain some of the freedom he was giving up. Or how Mr. Barmann really wanted me to read this political magazine he subscribes to, "Mother Jones," I think, which is all about outside views and activism and global warming, and fuck - that is not my cup of tea at all. I do not want to know about any issues ever. Clearly, we have very different views about committment - it is his number one thing - and pretty much I think being committed to any one thing too much is a huge sign of weakness. And while he is certainly more in the right than I am, I don't know him well enough to express dissent - don't know anyone well enough to express dissent really - so mostly I kept my mouth shut and talked about Elton John or something. It went OK. I was thankful when Missy got home. Missy had only gotten about 4 hours of sleep (Staying up 'til 1 with me and waking up for school the next day), but she was hepped up on coffee for a while, so we went out and did some shit. We run a lot of errands, so they all start to mash together. We stuck it to The Man at some point, taking back some jacket she had bought on discount at her J. Crew and then me returning it at another to get a full-priced gift card, so she is not without sin (thankfully). There was a massive search for a belt for me, as I was sort of tired of wearing the ratty pink one I stole from my mom forever ago. I found a cute one, but it is completely ineffective at holding my pants up, and I actually need that sort of thing. An even longer unending search for appropriate purple shoelaces; I suggested we get some white ones and just dye them. We got ice cream and Polaroid film and took some other shit back and I bought her a gaudy butterfly ring to replace the even more gaudy huge plastic glitter cube she had tried wearing around me up to that point. We drove around a lot, and I fought my demons, wherein I want to sing along all the time, and she actually wants to talk, if you can believe it. We went out with her dad that night, and I was thankful to have another person along this time. I had jambalaya!! And we watched a fair amount of Nick GaS. The next day we would be going to Lawrence to some party with all her friends there, but we had lots of time to kill, and I have been pining for Hot Topic for the longest time (as clearly I cannot ever ever again visit the one by me), so she took me to the ghetto mall that everyone in her family hates. Well, everyone but Amy, which sort of makes me laugh in itself. We were driving, trying to find the place, and I was like, "Well, I see some gross outlet mall." "No, that's it," she replies. Sadly. Hilariously, it is called The Great Mall. And yeah, it is a pretty horrible place - the carpets are all garrish and nauseating, and there are three specific draws for three specific types of mutants that I would rather not see exist. We have all the Hot Topic preteen poseurs, running around in their groups of black (and the one poor guy in the orange shirt - I guess he got the short straw that day), there are the people who come for the Aeropostale, snobby but too poor for Hollister ("If I do not have shorts that say 'AERO' on the ass, I am never going to blow you again, Devon!" "OK, sweetness. We'll go to the Great Mall then..."), and all of the outlet / discount store fiends, and we know what a lovely bunch they are. We wandered around for a while, I kept wishing I had a tazer, and we stopped in the Hot Topic for a few so I could get all nostalgic. I mean, I absolutely hate their stuff (and the people who shop there mostly), but ah, the memories. On the way out, we were assaulted by some lady who wanted us to take a survey on some new movies coming out. That sort of shit is right up my alley, so I got Missy to agree, and we went to their little lair. Unfortunately, however, they had enough 19 - 25 year old males and thus only wanted to hear from Missy, who did not want to be heard from. I wanted to feed her answers, but she mostly wanted to get through as quickly as possible, so it was sort of lame. They started off by listing off a bunch of actors and then asking a) who she recognized and b) what she thought of them. I would have had loud black woman comments for every one of them. "Lindsay Lohan? Girl, you know I don't like them redheads! 'specially them chubby ones with the big ta-ta's!" It was sort of funny how Missy didn't want to see any of the movies they listed as potentials, so we got stuck with some horrible viewing of a preview for a Bad News Bears remake starring Billy Bob Thornton. TWICE. See, once to just take it all in and then again to find 4 specific parts she liked and did not like. There's no way you can name that sort of shit off and not sound like an idiot. "I liked where the kid got hit in the head with the baseball a-hurr-hurr." Had it been me, I would've said I disliked any scene with a fat person in it and I loved any scene with Billy Bob's crazy mustache / soul patch combo. "He all be drinkin' martinis out on the field! You can't do that! AHAHAAHAHAH!" And, I wanted to add, I could only wish the movie the greatest of successes and hope that it was made into a series of awesome sequels like the original. Bad News Bears Go to Japan!! And a short-lived TV series! With William Devane, the actor I hate the most! But again, I wasn't allowed to speak. We had a real winner of an interviewer, too. Some bitchy chubby girl with about 100 different "Livestrong" variant bracelets on and who would "read" the questions so fast that the words were mashed together into nothingness. God bless you, Great Mall. Maybe some of my sins caught up with me. God bless you, diary. Off to Lawrence then for pizza at some place everyone kept raving about. Maybe I have an unrefined palete, but I have pizza from like two places that taste different from any other. Maybe I'm being a bitch, though. Uh, we went to Tracy's dormroom and met all of her roommates. Uh, let's see... Andie I met before, but I don't think I really ever described. She may be the only person I know who is slightly skinnier than Melissa, which of course eats away at our girl's soul. I think she is sort of cute, though, but that could be because she reminds me of a Japanese animated cat. She closes her eyes when she laughs. Like this: >^_^< Cat!! And then their other roommate Mallory, who just happened to visit her modeling website while I was alone in the room with her. Because she's a model, see. "Oh, man. I need to update this. It says my bust is only a 32A!" What the fuck is going on here?! Well, not my type, thankfully, plus she seems chocked full of OCD, and who could really handle that? After we ate, we ran back to our car to get our poison for the evening. "How are you going to open that bottle of wine, Nathan?" Oh, I've taken to carrying a corkscrew around at all times, not that that's the saddest thing in the whole entire world. Meanwhile, Missy had swiped three beers from her parents' fridge (They don't drink - it was left over from that party a while back), but she could now only find two of them in her bag. Much freaking out commenced. They are going to find it, and they are going to kill me, etc., etc. Best to drown your sorrows then, dear. Went to, you know, some place with everybody. Nice Asian Guy Ben comes up to me and says, "Well, welcome to our home." Actually, Ben, I wanted to say, I was right there on the floor guarding my drunken girlfriend almost four months ago to the day!! Missy, thankfully, decided to keep herself under a good deal more control this time, allowing me to a) be her little alcohol monitor buddy ("Can I drink this?" "You will have to tongue me in the bathroom first." "Deal.") and b) get pissed beyond reason myself. It's weird being on the girl's side of things, as I get to experience both the catty remarks and the taking of pictures with the girls these remarks were made about only moments earlier. People were lovin' me all drinking my pinot straight out of the bottle, though. They all had their bullshit cups and beer, but I was like, "Hit this!" and they did and made foul faces. What else? Missy kept telling me about this redhead even I would not find foul - Janelle (sic?) - and even though I blamed most of this sentiment on the fact that both she and Tracy have huge lesbian crushes on her, they were almost right. For one thing, she had dyed her hair brown. For another, she sort of reminded me of Michelle Trachtenberg, and you know that whole thing. We spoke of things, I don't remember what. Oh - yes I do! She bought her boyfriend this awesome wallet - check it - It all be slidin' out cards and shit with the touch of a button. It also be $40 and out of my price range. Thank you. It was a pretty full party - enough so there were lots of people to mock - but not quite enough where anyone danced with any frequency. There was an earring loss scare (damn girls), but luckily it was stuck in Melissa's luxurious locks. Some slutty high school senior chick everyone apparently hates was there, and she truly did live up to her reputation. I don't think she was happy until every male in the room 1) knew she existed and had parts they might be interested in and 2) that they might have some remote shot with her. I think I screamed some Dexy's Midnight Runners with her? This one girl Jen was trashed and kept stepping on Missy's feet, but I was fast catching up. Things get foggy for a little while, but there is apparently a video on Missy's camera of me dancing while everyone hoots and jeers, so I guess I can't deny that happened. There was also some girl named Mickey, and I evidently sang the song "Mickey" every single God damn time I even caught a glimpse of her, possibly because I really, really hate that name. A fight erupted because some dude sitting next to me tried to swipe a bong and suddenly this huge crowd of battling dudes was falling on me and Andie on the couch. "Are you all right, dude?" I kept laughing and she kept making her cat face. We were cool. The cops showed up really early, so we were all forced to pile out. I stood watching inside, though, smiling at the cop right outside the door and doing my sarcastic wave. Frank drove us back to Tracy's dorm - I can only assume we did not die - and there was a hilarious run-in with the president of Tracy's hall where she had to act like she wasn't all trashed and giggly She failed. Meantime, we all went downstairs to the pantry because the kids who live there can take whatever they want. We translated that to mean we could take whatever we wanted. So many Fruit Rollups and applesauce cups and some fake chicken strips for Missy and a jar of Grey Poupon for God knows what (although I found a use for it on the drive home. Everytime I pulled up next to someone at a red light, I would motion for them to roll their window down and then hold up the jar of dijon mustard invitingly. Responses were mixed) and Tracy just kept yelling, "More! More! Take more!" She tried to pass a 5 gallon barrel of ranch dressing off on me. Clearly, we are getting along much better now that she doesn't think Missy is blowing me right next to her while she sleeps. Went up to their room to crash on the futon for the evening, first meeting Mallory's apparently dickhead boyfriend. I figured that since she was a model and all that she would at least have some fairly attractive guy with her (fairly attractive among model standards, at least - some frat dude like that guy Pat who shared his vodka & Coke w/ Lime with me), but he was fairly gross as hell. He looked like one of those pug dogs. But then, there's no accounting for taste, is there, which is fortunate for me. Missy sent me some pictures from the evening, and she's always so damn photogenic and pretty whereas I at best look like a splotchy goth transvestite. At best. We crashed. The next day my hair was crazy as shit. I couldn't stay too long, so we had breakfast and then went back to Lenexa where Missy's mom was back and hosting some sort of awful, awful grandmother's tea. I think that is what they call the antithesis of a good time. I left a reluctant Missy not too too long after (I'm seeing you Wednesday aiiiight?) as Mrs. Barmann tried to pawn some food off on me. "Not a big eater," I said, which is true. "You're like the worst boy Missy could have picked to date," she said jokingly (I think?), which makes sense, considering. "Oh hell, I still make her eat," I said and took off into the night, new "Autsim Awareness" ribbon firmly attached (Yeah, neglected to mention that my ribbons were again hit hard during the party. Mostly I don't care, karma and whatnot, but I am going to miss that pro-life one. Good thing I blazed across three states to get back in time for what I thought was the last bingo. Good thing, as there otherwise would not have been enough time to watch glue dry. LITERALLY. My little engineering buddies had some project to build a bridge (although it was clearly not a bridge) and they were drinking and hurriedly trying to finish up, eventually using Smacko's advice and just coating the things in epoxy so that they would be indestructible. Smacko and I carried on without them, him calling everyone "chief." For the first time, Sean D. Mills proved fallible. He's held up to cops, countless cashiers, scrutinous old ladies and God knows who else, but God damn God damn he does not look like me, and all it took was one was distinguishing doorman with something to prove. That would make an exciting feature film, no? About some bouncer really serious about his job? Starring Rob Schneider as a bran muffin as the bouncer. Anyway, we go through the normal drill: He bends the ID or some shit, trying to torture it into revealing its secrets, and starts asking me if I have any other shit on hand to identify myself. "No, man. My bad. I just grabbed that and ran." (This could also be the story of how I first found the ID, by the way). So he starts quizzing me. "What city are you from?" Carpentersville. "OK, what's your address?" Uh... I stall, finally pulling Parsons Avenue out of my ass. "What's the number?" I try to use some charm. "Oh, fuck, man. I don't know. I haven't lived there for like 3 years." Roll Charisma check. DC 30. Fail. I am sent packing, but at least he returns the shit to me. It is a long walk back (and why the fuck did I wear sandals) but Kyle and Spritz are ready by then, so I head back with them, other ID in hand. Damn Walk of Shame. "I see you found the right one," he says or something smarmy. Yeah, yeah. I'm not drinking anyway. Smacko and Kyle more than made up for me. Smacko pretty much only stopped giving Kathleen the bingo caller the finger only to go over and destroy the bathroom at Antonio's Pizza. "I pulled the soap dispenser off the wall and poured it all over the floor. Then I pissed on it and it turned into foam!" Crazy dance. And Kyle was more or less a huge lech the whole night, not saying one damn thing that wasn't an innuendo. He kept yelling at the new Asian waitress how hot she was, then breathing his horrible pizza breath on me and telling how much he wanted Shelly. He didn't even bother trying to play bingo, passing off his cards to Shanks as soon as he got them. Shelly, meanwhile, has been MIA for pretty much forever, and Kyle is worried that Micah guy is making his move. We will start the punching. I got into shambo and won this horribly tiny baby tee as a prize, which I wore to the competition for intimidation. It did not work, and I was booted almost immediately. We did not win very much. As we were leaving, the one girl Kyle thinks is hot from Team Anti-tourettes offered me this stack of cups she'd gotten over the course of the evening. "Dude, she wants you to fuck her," Kyle intones more than a little too loudly. See? If you were ever wondering where my misguided notions about the opposite sex came from, look no further. We rode back home, me on Smacko's lap, all grinding to Fountains of Wayne. Made some rockets in the yard and they just kept drinking and drinking and bursting into here to tell me how I should be drinking. There. Weekend. That only took 2 hours. Naptime.
Smackoblaster: if i was dave kraft
I won't be soothed, |