08/20/2005 - 5:53 p.m. | in the waiting line

I apologize for the lack of creativity in those previous numbered diary entries. We will return to emo bullshit in lowercase posthaste! I also apologize for exposing you to any part of my world that wants "a piece of ass." That is a side no one should see, ever. But I was very intoxicated, and it was either write about it here or start sending drunken messages to everyone in question. It would seem I made the right choice.

Still, there are some days to recap, and while I have to work tonight, it was the first day in a long time I didn't have to get up for anything in particular.

Here are some brief positive updates:

- I tracked down Kelley Mandolini (my archetypal nugget, in case you were wondering - short with huge tits and a pig face) and added her as my friend on myspace. Repeating: I FOUND KELLEY MANDOLINI AND SHE ACCEPTED ME AS HER INTERNET FRIEND! Oh crap.

- For an extra five dollars a month, we now have Nick GaS, all the time. Which is what I am now doing, all the time. The only lulls are for that atrocious "Double Dare 2000," which some moron deemed appropriate for daylight hours, but that's why God invented "The Andy Milonakis" show.

- I am getting closer and closer to not sucking at work. Unfortunately, I have only two days until resumes, and everything gets crammed right back down the shitter.

- I apparently bought some pheromones last night. And this was before I was drunk. Smacko and I were chillin', and somehow the subject came up, so I went, "You know, they sell pheromones on eBay," and I went there and like three clicks later (before I had time to understand that I was blowing $13 on magic sex perfume) I had purchased a two ounce bottle. "This shirt I'm wearing? I keep a stick right next to it in the closet to beat off the pussy as it bum rushes me on the streets and wants to fuck me!!!!" Results not typical.

- Missy bought me a fake gold tooth, but it makes my teeth burn. For days after...

It's so good to have everyone back! Maybe I didn't miss everyone as specifically as I did Smacko, but the campus is getting repopulated, and we're seeing each other and doing shit again. OK, mostly just a lot a lot of drinking. But that sort of goes hand in hand with Smacko being back, doesn't it? I keep running and doing fag yoga to keep in check with all the boozing, but lord knows how long that will hold on. Also it's a really good idea to run to the tanning place in the middle of the afternoon, do ten minutes, and then run back. You should all try it sometime.

Part II of Shelly's 21st birthday was actually rather undewhelming, I guess considering she was still throwing up at 4 when I got home from work. No drinking from Kyle or Shelly then, but our new drunken vulgar landlords stopped by, which was surreal, and we ate some Arby's (Smacko building his own little Tower of Babel out of Horsey Sauce and then laughing gleefully as a staff member sopped it up) and we watched some Sandlot, and Smacko, Allison, and I got high up in his new place, after which I sauntered over to Schnucks for another God damn TV dinner. Honestly, pouring powdered MSG over everything I've eaten recently might have been the greatest mistake I ever made. Need to update all internet chain surveys accordingly.

I had to work Thursday night, so I expected things to be sort of tame. I did not count on the construction of that beer bong affecting our lives so thoroughly, however. Everyone stumbled into the cookie place at about 11:30, all trashed out of their gourds, from downing beer after beer in about 4 seconds each. Smacko had two cans of beer and kept trying to stumble in the store, James would tell him to step outside, and he would... for about 2 seconds until he completely forgot again. They were off to the weird all-night Asian karaoke place right next door, but I guess it's closed down for a bit, so they hit some bars while Kyle stayed at Insomnia with me, singing Avril Lavigne and playing Kirby on the Super Nintendo. It was the first time I ever saw the man suck at a video game.

I was on the phone with Missy for a while afterwards, and I guess that's roughly when the hitting started. I'm not sure how it began - I guess it was still back at the bars, after Smacko had given Allison piggy back rides around in front of the cops - but likely Smacko called her a cuntrag or something quasi-offensive, so she slapped him in the face. Smacko no doubt egged her on until they were more or less beating the shit out of each other, Allison yelling at him, telling him to hit her harder, Smacko discussing the only two morals he has (1 - Don't hit women. 2 - Don't punch A. Cobb in the ball sack). Oh lord, this is not the least bit surreal. WHO HITS PEOPLE? I just kept telling Allison, "Use your words. Only four year olds hit." I didn't see it go down, but I was there for the aftermath, when Allison socked Smacko in the nose and started him bleeding everywhere. The pictures are excellent; he looks like the undead, and Allison (with a bit of an aversion to blood) looks somewhat horrified. You would have thought that would have ended it for the evening, but the sadistic flirtation raged on until Smacko had yet another bloody nose and pretty much everything he or we owned was covered in his bodily fluids. I'm told they both woke up sore and bruised, and nearly completely oblivious to how this had happened. Smacko has chest pains, and it looks like Allison was tossed down the stairs. Shanks come over just long enough to spray a beer bong all over himself. See you around, chief!

Ignoring the fact I had to be at work at 8, I joined in on the festivities a little bit, although no beer bonging, despite Kyle's constant insistence (Every minute and a half: "Hey, man, you should go do some bongs!" He's gonna be a frat guy in no time). This train wreck of an evening was just getting started, however, as soon Shelly was coming up to me saying how Allison was all depressed because she thought I hated her, and then what do you know, Allison has me cornered in her room with the door shut, confronting me about the same thing. "Just be straight with her," Michelle advises. How very T-NBC of you there, Shelly. So much for my faint hope that all this violence was a prelude to a fling between Smacko and Allison, solving everyone's problems all at once. So I'm trapped in this room with this drunk who very clearly wants a piece, and she's trying to have this big talk about "what are we gonna do," but she keeps tossing her hair in what I think she believes to be a seductive gesture, and mostly I just want my cell phone back, because she grabbed it from me and has long since "put it in her booty."

So, apparently Kyle, every time he's drunk, tells Allison that Missy is psycho and that she (Allison) would be much, much better for me. Of course, when he's drunk, Kyle will also tell Missy if she's around that I am so in love with her (Missy) and that she doesn't need to worry about anything. Long story short, Kyle is a drunken dumbass just trying to make people happy. Turns out it puts me in a very dangerous position, however, as now I'm here with Allison, and she's going, "Well, who do you want? Some girl Kyle says is psycho, or me?" There are no third options here? Going with Shelly's advice, I should have said something like, "It would seem to me you are proving your own psychosis even as we speak," as well as, "You're entertaining and all, but I do believe I can get someone prettier," but I don't think I'm ready to be that "straight." Instead, I opted for the fact that I am crazy, honestly crazy, and that I've ruined any girl I've ever touched. I'm like King Midas in Reverse, I think were my words. But of course that isn't going to help! If anything, it will only make shit worse, as every girl thinks they will be the one who can "fix" me somehow, and suddenly they are more dedicated than ever. You can't fix me! Well, maybe you can actually, but I have a penchant for loony people myself, and if anyone is going to fix me they will have to be as dry and bland as unbuttered toast. (Here is a hilarious aside: The head of the Housing Authority of Chamapign County is named Mr. Bland. Never has a name been more fitting in the history of nameology) And even then, look at prior results - say, for instance, that my mother is just like me and my father is the most laidback, rational person in the world - I'm still gonna have to think I'm fucked. She's crazier than ever.

I relay this, but of course, she is not detoured, so I say, "Fuck my phone," and get out of there and try to find her shoes because she promised us that, if we found her shoes, drinks would be on her at Geo's. "Infinity drinks!" Smacko keeps exclaiming, and me, Tebben, Smacko, and her roll out the house. It's raining, of course, and drunk people are remarkably unfocused at getting anywhere, but luckily Shelly comes to pick us up before the downpour hits. Hello, Geo's.

Allison gets behind the bar and pulls out a rather large wad of money. Smacko tries to hold up his end of the bargain and has, I dunno, 5, 6 drinks piled up in front of him before long. He's not even drinking all of them, really - Tebben is left with the brunt of that - and I have my single beer, and we try and take in the chaos. I'm moonwalking around a little, and there are some nasty fat chicks having men do body shots off of them, and we seriously do not belong there at all when there is no singing. Lap dances are being performed on the bar, and a man approaching zombie drunk starts chatting up Shelly. "Is tha yer boyfren?" he slurs, indicating me, and why in the world would you not say yes, just this once Shelly? I shake my head disgustedly and then watch as Smacko and Allison try to do a tequila shot. Allison looks absolutely horrified upon completing hers, covering her mouth as if to contain the vomit. "YES!" Smacko yells. "THAT IS MY PUNCH IN THE FACE TO YOU!"

It's already half past last call, and somehow people are still being served drinks, and Shelly and I both just really, really want to leave. However, this man has dropped his wallet on the floor and is too drunk to have noticed it yet, so we stand nearby and whisper and plot about how we could get it. "Just reach down and grab it!" "I can't; they'll notice!" "We need a distraction..." "Just show your tits, damn it!" "I could just get everyone's wallet that way! Besides, those fat chicks are blocking the way." I was getting to the point where I'd just grab it and run - I want free money, damn it - but the guy's tab finally came in, and we were fucked. Luckily, there was one dollar that he missed. I covertly dragged it over with sandal and split it with Shelly. Good score.

Allison came out from behind the bar, and I once again asked for my cell phone back. Possibly confused about who I was, she slapped me across the face. Hard. Then she sat on a stool, took out the phone, and said, "You want this?" and then whipped it at the floor behind the bar. I got Carl to grab it for me. It wasn't even my phone; it was Allison's. Shelly quietly grabbed Allison's purse in the meantime, however, and got my phone back for me. Then, since we were both getting antsy, and no one else showed any sign of leaving, we drove to Schnucks for yet another Hungry Man dinner. WHAT IS GOING ON INSIDE

We came back, and everyone was still there. Carl the bartender was getting pissed, I think, as he messages over the intercom were now containing the swears. Meanwhile, this huge beast of a girl (who has apparently been watching me for quite some time) finally worked up the nerve to come over and tell me how I look like the lead singer of Weezer. "I downloaded 'Beverly Hill' on my phone because of you!" Now, I've been looking at pictures, and I don't really see it beyond the most superficial characteristics (messy hair, glasses, thin and pale), but I guess it would go a long way towards explaining why Andrea liked me so much. And Rivers is cute and all, so I guess I should be flattered. Instead I ran away. We drove home, and Shelly and I went inside. Tebben, Allison, and Smacko sat in the car, the two of them still slapping each other, until they finally gabe Tebben the impression he was cockblocking. Besides, as he said about 800 times, she was laying on his bladder, and he had to piss so bad! Shelly was crocheting, and I was a fairly docile drunk, mostly sitting there quietly watching "Nick Arcade," and we really did not need a loud drunk Tebben saying shit, so I kept sending him out into the rain on covert missions to see if Allison had Smacko's dick in her mouth. It worked a surprising number of times.

Somehow, once I passed out after 5, I woke up at 7 and did a surprisingly great job at work the next day!