06/06/2005 - 4:34 p.m. | there�s nothing left to read in here, there�s nothing left to smoke

Another evening of high pissiness, I�m sure. I dunno, I was in a pretty awesome mood last night, but I am downright bitter today. I was dragged along to Best Buy, so that Kyle could not rightly call me a douche, but we ended up at Dick�s Sporting Goods (aka Hell on Earth) for tennis racquet shopping. I wandered about the store in a stupor, watching people examine sporting goods very closely, rotating and waving them about as if they could actually ascertain any distinctions between baseball bats or whatever. In the end, we did not make it to Best Buy, and both Shelly and Kyle were immensely unhappy with their purchases, as Kyle wanted the racquet Shelly got, and Shelly wanted a racquet $10 more than she was willing to pay. Sporting goods are a racket (No pun intended); you don�t really need any more equipment more than the bare bones minimum, but the industry still manages to create useless accessories (A running hat made from space-aged materials? Hell yes, I need that!) and pawn off indistinguishable characteristics between what is essentially the same product. Ha � but oh wait, that�s going to be my job, creating those meaningless distinctions. I can�t wait, motherfucker! And meanwhile, I�m all mad because I can�t even afford stupid shit like this because I am fucking useless and can�t get a real job, so I am instead projecting my anger at those who can. I�m trying to slow down on finishing my book because right now I don�t have enough money to go out and buy another one. Swell.

I�m at the cookie place now, and the air conditioner is broken, which is always good in a place that does a lot of baking, and I just earned an eleven cent tip from my last delivery. Thanks a lot, chief. That�s about enough to cover the cost of gas� to start my car once. I was pretty down on A Confederacy of Dunces to start off, but some of its ridiculous lexicon is leaking its way down into my thoughts. �Fortuna is on a downward spin� and all that.

Almost Famous had me in a pretty OK mood there for a while, but then the last ten minutes of the evening decided to shit upon me for another hour. Three deliveries to finish up the night, the first of them in the sprawling labyrinth that is the Melrose Apartment Complex. What a surreal entrance, by the way. With the automatic swinging gates and all, it�s like the friggin� Batcave. I was so disoriented by the time I found the right building that it took me even longer to find my way out. The second stop was at Illini Towers, which I even tried to speed along by phoning ahead so the cretin could ride the elevator down (I am not allowed there, see). Course, no answer until I spammed him for about five minutes - and another five on top of that to send someone down. Admittedly, the last stop wouldn�t have been bad� had I not lost the frickin� money pouch from the top of my car! Good one, genius! Luckily, with my extensive knowledge of physics, I was pretty sure it would have fallen off while I was turning, so that narrowed it down some, and I got real lucky.

Oh � and no one tipped me above a dollar all night. Let�s see� it was like 89 cents, 11, 31, a buck (in nickels and pennies, no less), 71, another 31. What the fuck, you cheap bastards? I�m all running around, trying to get your cookies to you all hot and shit, and you can�t even give me standard percents here? Unbelievable.
So I was in a pretty lousy mood, yes, but I was finally all done, and Kyle and Shelly and I had made plans to go to Taco Bell afterwards to get some nasty Club Chalupas or something. I definitely did not want to eat one of those bacon-y motherfuckers, but I was willing to let it slide because I wanted to hang out with my friends. But I get home, and they�re all like, �Yeah, we already went.� ARGH WHAT THE FUCK FINAL STRAW

Normally, I could just take this in stride, but God damn, man, shit compounds, and I was mad as hell. �I thought we were going to go together.� �We got hungry.� Oh, bullshit. You know how many times I�ve waited for one of you cretins to get off work or get picked up or do your little tasks or whatever? And yeah, maybe I shouldn�t be surprised. After all, they are a couple, and I am an addendum, and who are they going to constantly show loyalty to? But fuck then, why do they expect me loyalty out of me, to tag along on their pointless trips and go run their stupid errands with them. That�s what really bugs me, I think. I didn�t even want the taco � I just want someone to stand in my corner.

So then Kyle�s about to offer to at least go somewhere with me while I get something, a nice gesture at least, but then he�s all, �Aw, man, I can�t � I�ve got class tomorrow.� And I know this is fucking bullshit because he is going to be still sitting there when I get back from the grocery store in half an hour, watching whatever the fuck show he downloaded (I don�t care to ask). And he was. And he was for at least another hour past that. Couldn�t have taken ten minutes away from your busy schedule, huh? I mean, I know, I�m just the best friend, and it is always my destiny to lose power to the girlfriend (See �Boy Meets World,� �Scrubs�), but they�d tricked me otherwise for a while, you know?

Anyway, I bought a loaf of bread and some brie that apparently did not need to be refrigerated, but then again, maybe it did, because I am sitting here by a tree outside Yankee Ridge Elementary (They only have an hour of class today, so I am waiting to cross them back), and I feel as though I may blow chunks at any moment. The cycle of bursting rainbows of joy simply rolls on.