07/28/2005 - 10:31 a.m. | don't get sucked in

I�m not all right this morning. Last night, I decided to take a little break from my nerd script to take a nap and watch some �Scrubs.� I ended up sleeping 14 hours which, of course, has left me feeling entirely unrested. Insane, is more like it. And that�s just great, because my boss boss is coming in today, and it�s always great to seem like a drunken lunatic, constantly sniffing (from allergies of course, but he�ll assume it is the white fairy� pretending that is a legitimate name for cocaine, by the way). Personally, I blame the Pringles. There is some ingredient in them that makes me pretty ill, which is what dragged me to my sickbed.

It was a night full of insane dreams as well. The first was like a classic TV sitcom dream, blatantly ripping off the most obvious things from the last few days and tossing them together for a dream state. I�m sort of ashamed of my subconscious. I was back at IMSA, living with Chris Jones, and even though I was aware of many things that weren�t right, it took me far too much detective work to realize I was dreaming. Like, I remembered the fact I was in college (eventually), even remembered storing away my high school diploma� somewhere, but I sat there all stupidly, like, �Why would they make me come back?� And I knew it wasn�t actually the room we were in together either time, because we had an upstairs quad and the furniture was all different (even though we said it was exactly the same as when we left). I had an even tinier laptop than usual, outfitted with a keyboard about the size of the numpad (as such) and a screen about three inches high. Damn you, issues of inadequacy. Chris already had plans, as usual, with someone who knocked on the window and identified themselves as Babaghanoush, but Zouie was nice enough to call and invite me along. There were a lot of weird things going on in this dream. Security was hanging out in our room, and the walls were leaking insulation, and DOSboots was there, and I went ice skating with Jennifer Aniston. I was trying to explain to her William Shatner�s cover of �Common People,� but she was mostly not listening and talking making crazy faces. I made out with some chick in front of an M&M diorama of Mt. St. Helens, and she used way too much tongue way too damn fast (the girl, not the volcano). Later on in the evening, I met with Roger Ebert, having just graduated from IMSA (and been fired from all my jobs), and I was seriously starstruck. I kept stuttering on all the clever things I meant to say. I went with him to his housewares store, but he also sold sci-fi model kits and karaoke set-ups (for some reason incorrectly labeled as �Ultimate Spy Gear�) My mom thought prices were too high, so we went to Kohl�s. You can see why I�m feeling so fucked up, can�t you?

On the plus side, Susan D. Rick IM�d sometime last evening, and she referred to me by my fake name, which was the same lame joke I was going to make to her the few times I considered sending her a message. Or she just forgot my name.

Man, I�m actually really disappointed I didn�t go tubin� with Kyle, Shelly, Andy, and Tebben the other day. I mean, if it had been a normal, relaxing experience, I could certainly do without� but there are only so many opportunities for soul-crushing misery. I will only summarize, since I wasn�t there for the full effect, but more or less it was like every bad horror or disaster movie. They�re all cruising down the river, tossing beers to each other, Kyle getting frequent boners (and smashing one into a rock, I�m thrilled to say), the worst thing the little nibbles the fish keep trying to take out of them. But then the tornado descends (No, really, a tornado touched down in northwest Champaign and started heading in their direction� the worst I can say is that it lodged a stick into the innards of my car, so I can�t stop making this dragging noise) and the clouds are moving dangerously fast overhead, but they are all moving so slowly, getting beat up by rocks and by the time darkness descends they�re unable to see anything and have still only gone about halfway. Kyle and Tebben are both honestly convinced they are going to die (Kyle having gone through all the stages � denial, anger, etc. � to acceptance) and Andy will only laugh insanely. Finally, at around ten (when Kitty and Spritz are filing the police report), they get back on dry land � only for the ice rain to being. Andy and Shelly go off in Shelly�s car, leaving Kyle and Tebben in the rain with, it turns out, Kyle�s car being dead. So they resummon Shelly (who are traveling like 10 mph, completely blind) and huddle together in a deflated raft, trying to stay warm. Now see, that�s the kind of thing I�d skip work for! God, you have no idea how much I wish I could have been there, shrieking right back at the gods, those fucks. Instead, all I have to talk about is boring shit, like how James and I played the Mario Lost Levels and how I dislike going to University Commons for deliveries because of their Batman gates and how the Planet played 2 Shout-Out Louds songs and one Archers of Loaf. See, bo-ring!! And the most I�ve accomplished around this place, that I can show off to my boss, is the gradual integration of colorful paperclips into the office environment. Kudos, Nate! Here is your sack of money!