08/15/2005 - 6:15 p.m. | interests: telling boys gross things about my uterus

I AM TRYING TO WRITE As Fast As I can!

This weekend: Friday night, Missy and I bought a yoga DVD (certainly not because I have an odd crush on the big-boobed instruction of said DVD) and performed for a while while we waited for Kyle to finish his games. Unfortunately, we missed his narrow window of opportunity, so he completed the one game and moved onto another, leading to something of a lover's quarrel. I wanted him to come with me and Missy to the cookie place so that they could get trashed while I drove them around.

In the long run, this was successful. We got them some brandy (KORBEL: The champagne of brandies) and about eight of us stormed into the cookie place with poor Sid sitting idly by. "Are we allowed to do this?" they asked me. The worst that happens is I'm fired, and right now that is some fire I could afford to play with. As the respective business operators for the evening, Sid and I could not afford to drink, but Kyle and Missy made up for it. We sat around swearing at the Nintendo and potential customers (and in the rain there were very few of them), and then James came in but we didn't really give a fuck about him either. They both got pretty blitzed, and Kyle made up some brilliant new material ("Now you are immune to vampire saliva" chief amongst them). He also had this song called "Bitches and Hoes," which turned out to be quite appropriate when we encountered a group of mean girls with a hose. He asked for their phone number. Missy decided the tipping policy at Insomnia was unfair and kept trying to swipe money and give it to me. I would sneak it back in while she was fumbling around with the customers I sent her to.

Then we came home and watched Cocoon.

Now, talk to me, history, because I can't really find the info I need. What did you guys think of Cocoon? Was it a popular film of the era? Because they did make a sequel, but they've also made a sequel to Deuce Bigelow, so perhaps that is not a valuable consideration. This was a movie focusing on the lives of old people. Who the FUCK wants to know what old people are doing? Especially old people and sex! When Wilford Brimley talks about his boner, it is guaranteed I will not be getting one ever again. "Blue steel" indeed, you horrifying old blob. But what could make this film even more golden? Perhaps Steve Guttenberg, star of Zeus and Roxanne and a shocking majority of the Police Academy films. Yes, he gets points for sharing the screen with Johnny 5, but I am seriously worried that people loved this shit and its nutty aliens and randomly pieced together scenes. In general, I tend to respect Ron Howard, but this trash had me crying on the floor.

Earlier in the day, we got some Atomic Fries.

But before that, Missy and I had another rift that I just feel is like one step closer to the brink. I don't even know what happened, as I started analyzing this shit like the Kennedy assassination. I came home from work, kicked in the door. Now, first thing, I looked over at Missy. She was reading, so I didn't want to disturb her. Kyle said hi, so I talked to him for a minute (about how he had gotten an e-mail from his boss wanting to see him, and how he was not sure if he was going to be fired - for skipping practically every shift since Jason Kahn was put in charge - or promoted - for the commendation he received for tirelessly trying to fix the internet at work... so he could continue playing Uniball unharried. It turns out it was the latter - yay, society! So it might be a new job there for me, huh?) and all of a sudden Missy is crying and all grumpy and what the fuck did I even do? "I just want to make you happy," she says. And I think internally, "Well, this is doing a great job of it." More and more it's like all she does is shit on my parade. Anything I do she just reels my back in. I'm dancing, and somehow I step on her foot and she whines. And God forbid the subject of Cleveland come up again. I'm generally on thin ice a lot as it is - why is she stomping around and making trouble?

We watched Garden State the other night. As much as I love Zach Braff, I'm not a huge huge fan of the movie... except for the ecstacy scene. It was so creepy and sexy (which are sort of overlapping in my mind) and the Zero 7 song in it is perfect. I've been listening to it on repeat, getting a boner. Pitchfork says Zero 7 is Air for Dummies, but fuck Pitchfork. I gave up on you long ago.

The next day we head up north for my parents' camping adventure and Legrenzi family gathering. That's right, friends! I was exposing Missy to the concentrated crazy that is my mom's side of the family. If you look at my dad's side, they're all so affluent and normal and, if not well-adjusted, at least well-adjusted to like the things Americans are supposed to like - blonde hair, Abercrombie, I forgot where I was going with this. We Legrenzis, though (and there is no doubt that I am one, because their dominant genes crush all else), are all anxious and depressed with diarrhea. And we gather together to sleep in tents. This is the first family event I've been allowed (or allowed myself) to get plastered at. It was infinitely more enjoyable. The first sober hour or so was as bad as ever, but once I had some warm fuzzies I was even liking the babies. Allison was my little Alli-Pal (Don't tell Allison Helm I ripped over her nickname!), and I was almost making conversation and practically gasp having a good time. Missy let herself get a little buzzed, too, which made the introductions that much easier. We've finally moved into the other side of the bell curve - from youth and its inherent happiness to the anxious teenage years and now to the chemically-induced haze that will be my adulthood. Oh, thank God.

My mom said something I never really thought about, that everyone at the party is just as anxious as I am - they just tend to fake it better... or soak themselves in gin and such so as to make transitions easier. I guess I don't like thinking of them as anything like me.

Apparently Joe is a huge Vince Vaughn fan, too. And, just like me, he was hooked by Clay Pigeons, and not all that other bullshit. I spent like an hour on the phone with Tina, who you don't know, but she is insanely verbose. I kind of stared off into the sky and would occasionally ask a hilariously general question to get talking again ("So what are your long-term plans?")

We did not sleep in tents.

Well, Missy and I did not, as there weren't enough to go around, but neither was there any sinning on our part either. We looked at my scrapbooks again, and maybe it was the junk in my blood, but I felt a great deal less disappointed with myself when I read all the glowing comments from my teachers this time. Maybe I can live up to some of their expectations. After all, my writing is getting better all the time (Well, actually, these recent couple entries have been kind of a slump, but I will forgive myself that) and I have some talent in some areas. I'll get somebody pleased with me, I promise.

My mom and I had a smoke by the garage (Well, she did, not me), and we sort of discussed my future, and I told her how I kept drawing these girls in so that they loved me and how I wasn't sure I could give them what they wanted back, so I kept breaking their hearts, and she made it all seem not so bad. She also noted that while our pills make us sane, they take away a certain something, maybe the depth of our feelings that gave me the deep love I used to have. I guess it's about trying to decide what is better - the shell that protects us from emotions, good and bad, or everything in its unaltered form. I personally like being sort of thick-skinned.

Pause here because I was going to talk about how good some of the wine was at the party (Mostly because I rooted through my parent's shit and picked out all the most expensive kinds... I have an eye for it), but then I decided I would probably like some wine and went out with everybody for to get some. Which I am now drinking out of a juice glass. Classy lassy.

The next day I woke up, possibly hungover, but who knows, said goodbye to family, drove home in more monsoons, said goodbye to Missy, went out to Legends with Shelly and her family (No fish sandwich - what the hell? But hello nurse to Jessie Wetzler, of course). She received the first two seasons of "Saved by the Bell" on DVD, so we hit some of that up. The horror, the horror. AC Slater's package haunts my dreams.

Actually, that isn't fully the case. I actually had a pretty lousy dream last night in which I found Jen from Hot Topic and convinced her to be with me instead of her middle-aged husband. I was just trying to do what was best for her, but somehow it all got fucked, and everyone was unhappy. It felt like a movie. I don't like to think about it.

Today felt absolutely lazy. Went into work, left way early, and I have tons left to do. Fuck it - I'll get around to it all. Or get canned and be happy. Kyle and I planned on visiting the DMV, but that shit was closed, so we slowly shopped for birthday gifts without method and ate dinner at the Target Food Avenue or some shit. When will it stop raining? Actually, come to think of it, I believe I picked out every single gift Shelly received. Where's my blowjob then, hmmm?! Kyle made me get a job application for Shoe Carnival, so we'll just put on the stack with everything else.

Here's some oddity: Hot Michelle and I talk back and forth occasionally, and today she IMs me all like, "I just broke up with my boyfriend; also I moved into a new place, and you should come visit... tonight!" Ummm... Then, moments ago, I got another message from her, like, "False alarm / We got back together for the time being!" which I sort of take to mean, "Actually, don't come over after all." What is with these weird little updates, though?

Finally, Missy met Allison, so there's that.

It could have gone worse.

Smacko is moving in tomorrow; Shelly's 21st birthday is Wednesday. I don't expect to be sober again for quite some time.