07/24/2005 - 11:06 a.m. | the date is off

I know sleep is important, I know it, but if I don�t catch up on this writing, I�ll never have time to script the magic adventures of dark warlords and enchanted swords and whatever the fuck else, and I don�t do that, I will have a rather large Frat Person out for my head. But still! My shit comes first, and right now I have to tell you about this weekend, the last, and one from God knows when, so that it can all be placed in order. Damn you, job; make me wake up and do shit so that I prefer my days spent in a stupor, cramming black pepper Doritos in my cakehole. As such then, I will just write until my little brain implode, and I sleep with my head on the keyboard. It�s warm like a woman�s bosom.

Maybe you know what a severely underrated show �Good Times� is, but I did not find out until yesterday. See, everyone else was all gung ho about going tubin�, but I don�t trust any activity with an n-apostrophe on the end � plus whose swimsuit was I going to admire? Kitty? Big Boobs? I�ll take my chances back here, thanks � so I stayed behind and somehow ended up on TVLand, which was (possibly still is) having a �Good Times� marathon on. Yes, it is a stupid show, but it was not as stupid as you might think� if you establish some ground rules. It�s not �Sanford & Son� bad, I�ll tell you that. And it�s got the guy from Roots except they killed him over and some lady who looked like female Ving Rhames except they killed her off, too. The main rule, however, is that you laugh at nothing else on the program except when J.J. (Jimmie Walker) says anything at all. Then you more or less squeal like a pig. Stealin� art supplies again, James Junior? EEEEEEEE! And maybe I should have gone to the demolition derby at the county fair with everyone else that evening, but I had some fairly pleasant Granny Smith hard cider and there was a fucking episode about Black Jesus. See, J.J. is an artist, all right? And he made this painting of Black Jesus to which Florida (the mother) was all like, �Sacrilege, sacrilege!� except then it started giving them all good luck like a pay raise and whatnot and they would stare at the painting all ominous like (it would zoom in) until it turned out it was actually a painting of a homeless person. And don�t even get me started on the one about with all the plugs for the United Negro College Fund and the word �Japs� and pretty much everyone agreed the theme song was perfect. Smacko kept yelling it instead of correct lyrics at karaoke:

Temporary layoffs
(GOOD TIMES!!)
Easy credit rip-offs
(GOOD TIMES!!)
Scratchin� and survivin�
(GOOD TIMES!!)
Hangin� in a chow line
etc.

So maybe I was right schuckered when the time came� in fact, I was for sure, but that don�t mean a thing. We had an extensive party on our trip that night: Me, Kyle, Shelly, Smacko, Spritz, Hot Michelle, Tebben, and his Allison � plus Edmund, Strangely Attractive Blonde Chick, and that other guy. Allison Helm was not working, but I needed a night off, and I do believe Tebben would have been having his own worlds collide problem had she been there.
Table arrangement was strange for the evening, so it seemed like we would be plum out of luck as far as seating went for the night. Luckily, Crazy Guy (actually Greg, formerly Creepy Guy, as he was the one staring at Shelly for our first half hour there) allowed us access to the huge table he was sitting at alone (Wonder why?) Now, I made it a point to avoid him on instinct � the kind of sixth sense nerds have evolved to survive � but Smacko and Kyle chatted him up all evening. In fact, they went so far as to later construct a top ten list of things Crazy Guy said throughout the course of the evening. I will explain them as best I�m able:

1. I hate faggots

This one is fairly self-explanatory. I sang �It�s the End of the World As We Know It� and afterwards some backwards hat guy said what a good job I did. Crazy Guy took this to mean he was a huge flamer and pretty much wouldn�t shut up about wanting to kill the guy for the rest of the evening. Smacko would be like, �Yeah, man! Kill all those faggots!� and then give a look of absolute horror whenever Crazy Guy turned away.

2. I will fuck any gross pussy.

Smacko was my savior for the evening. See, I was already on Crazy Guy�s bad side for trying to take his chair, which was originally my chair, but then somehow his when I got up to sing. And then the whole faggot thing came up, but Smacko was like, �Well, Nate�s not a fag! He fucking loves pussy!� I drunkenly backed up the claim as much as I could� which was not very much. �You bet I love pussy! I love� fucking it� so much!� Which got us started on Crazy Guy�s high standards. Maybe my brain is makin� up shit, but I swear he had some older lady all up on him� and he was harrassing the two younger, maybe sort of hot girls there, so I�m not sure I entirely trust his claim.

3. I love fuckin AcDc.

I am not sure where else to put this, but Crazy Guy did have a rather brilliant term on his hands that we are going to frequently rip off from him. One-fifty-niners (159ers) are what we are discussing. First off, bars in the area (in many areas?) close at 2 am, and thus, at 1:59, you will pretty much take any shit the world throws out at you. That which you would only accept as a last resort is a 159er. The entire population of Geo's on any given night is made up entirely of 159ers. It's a good term. Use it.

4. I can fuck up 6 dudes.

I don�t doubt it either. I was completely on my own world by this point, kind of spacily watching Spritz and Hot Michelle play pool, but I guess Crazy Guy has a fucked up thumb. Kyle must have been trying to look at it, because Crazy Guy goes, �Guess you noticed my thumb, huh?� Kyle assumed he would be dead in about three seconds, so he thought fast and said something totally insane about how it was probably from killing a tiger with his bare hands. Logically, this made Crazy Guy very happy. Actually, though, it had something to do with a lawnmore, but God knows Kyle wasn�t going to pry for further information.

5. No faggot better fuck with me.

Maybe we�re getting a little redundant here.

6. Brew crew for life.
OK, this is a good one. I guess Crazy Guy had this tattoo on his arm. It said �B. C.� but it looked like it had been inked by a retarded (drunk) four year old. Guesses aplenty as to what it could have been (Spritz thought �Before Christ,� which would have been absolutely awesome, and maybe now I myself I will have to get it), but I guess someone finally asked. It stood for �Brew Crew� (or �Big Cocks� depending on who you�re askin� huh huh huh!) I guess when Crazy Guy was still fourteen or fifteen, he and bunch of his badass friends got drunk all the time and were generally awesome, so they gave themselves these tattoos with needles and Indian ink. Oh.

Then Kyle made the mistake of suggesting that he and Smacko should get tattoos as well. Brew Crew Two or whatever. For a moment there, Kyle said he saw the madness brewing in Crazy Guy�s eyes. �They dare to tread upon the sacred tradition of the Brew Crew! I will drink their blood and use it for its hidden power!� I mean, the guy�s had the stupid thing for over half his life � I bet it�s about all he�s proud of. Luckily, he won control over the madness and eventually agreed, hell yeah, it would be a good idea if they were the Brew Crew Two. Disaster very narrowly averted again.

7. If you drink tequila, you are an animal.

This is a two part joke.

8. I am an animal without tequila.

That is the punchline.

9. My weakness is kicks to the head.

Maybe that doesn�t sound that impressive to you, as it is pretty much everyone�s weakness. This is Crazy Guy�s only weakness. Well, I assume. Still, now I know how to beat him, right?

10. I HATE FAGS

Not to hammer it in too much, but this fellow really did not like the homos. And from what I heard, some dude maybe gave him a kiss on the back of the neck� I�m not really sure, as I was pretty far gone, just kind of strolling around and ordering more drinks from the waitress whenever I bumped into her. I kept foiling their efforts, though � they knew not of Tom Collins or the Cosmo or whatever other gay shit I sent them. �Beer! Do you have beer?� They did, and I had about three Coronas.

I do not even know if Crazy Guy was involved or not, but we were all singing and jolly and drunk and I can�t honestly remember really, but all of a sudden a fight broke out amongst some people. It was rumored that the cops were being called, and, as such, all us minors should probably get the hell out of dodge. That was fine, and we started on our merry way� except Kyle and I got a few blocks before I remembered our tabs. At least we remembered, though, right? So, we run back, and I signed whatever they put in front of me (There is a good chance Geo�s owns my soul or car or home now), but the fight had already fizzled, and what do you know it? It was my turn to sing again! So I got up on stage and did that God damn Todd Rundgren song Shelly signed me up for (I did not have glasses with me, so I commanded people to sign me up for whatever). The audience was still calming itself from the brawl and did not pay a lick of attention to me at all, which is fine because I can�t imagine I did a great job either. We ran to catch up.

We got home and watched some more �Good Times.� I couldn�t tell you who was left of our party, but Hot Michelle was sitting next to me, and I did not mind her capris one bit. I think we actually talked quite a bit, which is a clear indication of actually how drunk I was, as I would never, ever bother anyone like that under normal circumstances. My most disturbing half-memory, however, is doing a shot of hot beef juice from Kyle�s leftover Italian beef. Who the fuck gave me a shot glass of au jois, and why the fuck did I down both mine and the rest of Hot Michelle�s? It was nasty; there were still chunks of meat in it. All of us stumbled up to my hellhole of a room to watch Party Bob � wholesome family fun � and I guess the night sort of fizzled.

I apparently lurched upstairs and drunk facebook messaged Hot Michelle, telling her we should be friends and hang out more often. Oh God, Nate. You�re that fucking guy. And I�ve been sending text messages back and forth with Julie from the movie set� I just recently got her e-mail address, and now I�m all like, �It�s on! It�s on!� I tell myself that it can�t hurt just to have a few friends of the opposite gender, but we know where our true intentions lie. Maybe it�s because I�m nearly always drunk around her, but multiple times now I�ve had the feeling that Hot Michelle might have been attracted to me a little bit (God knows why, of course), and something deep inside really wants to kick Spritz�s ass at something. She�s the only girl Spritz has been unable to fool all the time, and that�s pretty damn impressive, as he even fools us most of the time. Plus� I don�t know� I�m not sure things are going great with Missy. I called her first thing on her birthday to say I loved her and tell her I was sorry I couldn�t come and all that nice stuff, but I didn�t call that night, and I was in a world of shit the next day. She was all sobbing on the phone, and Tracy apparently hates me again (Somehow that bugs me more than anything), and I know I should shown her more attention that day above all, but there were Circumstances! Usually I call when things die down a little, but I was driving two drunks to Bumfuck, Illinois, and I couldn�t very well make lovey dovey talk while one guy is simultaneously firing from both cannons, could I? Gah, I don�t know. I�m just making excuses. I have this very powerful counterproductive strategy wherein I want to take sort of messed up things and turn them really bad. Like when we�re having a little argument, I want to say the most awful things and turn it into a huge fight with screaming and crying and thrown shit. Or when she thinks I�m not being a very good boyfriend, I want to go out and be a manslut and show her what being a bad boyfriend is really like. I can�t entirely explain why that is, either.

I also did the weirdest late night drunk thing in a long and industrious history of late night drunk things. I only know this through records and files, but apparently I downloaded and cracked a version of Office XP Professional at sometime around 4 am. After nearly a year and a half of living without it, I apparently snapped on Sunday morning, July 24, drunk off my ass. �Now is the time to pirate!� I even copied some data into a spreadsheet to make sure it had worked. If that was my id in control, I have the fucking nerdiest id ever.

It was the end of my night, but just the start of Kyle and Smacko�s. Apparently my boy �forgot� to mention he�d purchased some Ritalin from Rajeev, so all of a sudden he and Kyle are smashing pills with a hammer, snorting the shit (through a bendy straw, lol) at 4 in the morning, and drinking screwdrivers on the roof �til noon. They did actually stumble up about half an hour in to see if I wanted to join them, but I was barely living by then. I sort of feel bad about missing it, as apparently they recounted both their life stories more or less (with diagrams, in some cases), but then, I don�t even like nasal sprays. And it really seems unlike Kyle� but now he even smokes sometimes when he�s really drunk. Just goes to show you, time corrupts all.

I woke up on Sunday at almost three to find the house eerily empty. I was starving but sat around waiting for someone to return so I could eat. Finally, after sitting through more �Good Times� than I would care to recount, I finally risked pounding on Kyle and Shelly�s door. No answer, but I put my head to the door and fervently prayed to hear not fucking. Good. Just Kyle�s chainsaw snore. I dragged him with me to Arby�s, and we spent most of the day recovering, going to see Wedding Crashers that night. Overall, I can�t say I enjoyed it so much, but I do think it was my favorite overall Vince Vaughn role, which is saying an awful lot.

Sometime this weekend in a drunken lurch, Spritz broken the third step down from the top such that the end of it is all cracked off and leaning. It�s just fine when you�re climbing up the steps, but it you forget about it on the way down, it tosses you forward to your doom. I look forward to it killing one of us within the next year.

A disturbing update from Hot Michelle:

"you know what i also rememberd? i spit out a vitamin or weight loss pill or something like that and you put it in your mouth and took it for me lol...how funny is that?"

Not that funny. ...especially when I start growing breasts or something.