10/01/2005 - 7:22 p.m. | that is today's official title

I was all excited when I got home from work Wednesday night (two hours early, mind you! The only people who came in during my shift were Allison and Smacko, the latter writing foul things about Jimmie Walker on the whiteboard � oh, and some talkative Hispanic kid right at the end. I had to tell a few white lies about his chances at an upcoming career fair to get him out of my hair), all ready to collapse, maybe get some tacos, call Missy, go to sleep.

�We�re going out, bitch!�

The thrill of campus bars was not a draw � not another fucking mediocre night in Murphy�s with the same people doing absolutely nothing at all � but the news that our ultimate goal was some around the world frat party quickly cajoled me into changing shirts and downing three cranberry vodkas before the bus came. The latter was a cranberry vodka smart drugz cocktail because I figured if I was going out, I was going in a blaze of glory.

As far as I could gather, the only reason we were going to the bars was for Spritz to try and tear H. Michelle away from her pack of annoying male Asian friends, but the drugz/vod combination was kicking in nearly quick enough that this didn�t seem awful at all. We were supposed to meet at Clybourne, but the line and cover were so stupidly large that we all lowered our standards a bit and went to poor deserted Joe�s. I�m not going to talk to you people anyway � I might as well pay $2 for it rather than 8. Or rather, Gautum should, heh heh heh.

Shelly ran to the bar for drinks while the rest of us sat there awkwardly with H. Michelle�s friends and half-friends. There was an unfortunate bit of luck wherein I yelled something at a passing Brittany Nguyen about lusting after her for ages. Well, of course she�ll end up at the same bar, at the same table. Why would I think anything else? There was some other poor white girl there with us, Kim, and though I should have at least been civil (probably could�ve gotten some), I decided I was still not drunk enough for any of this. Luckily, here comes Shelly with three Jaeger Bombs and some girly vodka shot for me. But then Spritz the stupid cunt is all, �I hate Jaeger Bombs,� so he got my deliciousness and I had to down black licorice deer blood hell. I don�t know why I continue to respect you, karma, when you give me nothing but grief.

There�s something wrong with the sounds on my computer. They all play in slow motion, which sounds very, very silly in the case of the error �DONK.� Dloodloodlooooonkkkk! Yeah, like you understand that.

After a couple of drinks, it was decided we should head to the dance floor, which was about the most depressing thing I have ever seen. Two guys out there alone, probably gay, kind of orbiting around one another. Well, let�s join in! Me, Spritz, and Shelly were the only ones to do it at first, H. Michelle and her cadre of male Asian whores far too cool for that. They were correct, however. We were quite lame. One of the starter dudes grabbed Shelly and started flinging her around, Spritz and I did a little of our gay, and I started laughing at how stupid this all was. Others joined in eventually. Maybe Kim wanted to dance, but no, still not drunk enough, even as I�m doing the moonwalk on my knees and punching the air, rubbing my hair like a sexy, sexy lady. Joe�s, as I was once told seductively by a drunken ham beast, has a plethora of stripper poles, so Shelly and I leapt up there to do our thing, which was probably less sexy than anything ever done there ever. Poor DJ Sped. I racked myself trying to do this upside down sinking spin rotation, but I was not about to admit to my pain. Smacko looked on in a mixture of sadness and horror and then sort of disappeared directly thereafter. I could really not get on board with Spritz�s flying elbows, I�ll be honest, so we ended up leaving. I think I downed someone else�s drink.

We headed out, with only the vaguest idea of where this frat was. Spritz was stopped by the police for pissing on a bush, but somehow managed to get out of a ticket. Shelly and I kept right on going as if we weren�t involved, so here is Spritz�s recreation of the scene.

Cop: COME HERE!
Spritz: What�s up, man?
C: Don�t call me �man.�
S: What�s up, sir?
C: What were you doing?
S: Peeing on that bush.
C: Why?
S: I�m a little drunk.
C: Do you want a $140 ticket?
S: No, I don�t, sir.
C: You�re free to go.

Oh yes, karma. You make ALL SORTS of fucking sense. I�m going to start punching girls in the crotch, and I�m sure a fucking huge PRIZE will fall into my lap. AAARRGH!

We were quite lost, but somehow we made it to this frat. Is Gautum in this frat? Does he know someone there? I have no idea. It was a weird place, though. Much less like the normal shit hole and more like Hunsinger our sophomore year. An entirely different sort of shit hole. We started wandering through the house and ended up on the top floor, where I ran into Drew Alm from some of my advertising classes. She was quite drunk, and so was I nearly, so we talked for a while. She thinks we should go on a barcrawl, and while I think it is a lovely idea, there�s no way I�m getting people involved on my own. They�ll just think I�m a creep. I wasn�t about to go up to Seth Rogen with a drink request, so I sent Drew up for me. I was told not to be afraid and eventually joined the line. �I�ll have what she�s having,� which turned out to be Sex in the Desert, which is fucking tequila-based and hellish, so I had most of hers as well. Drew was clearly interested in this other guy, so I sent her off in his direction (she has a shiny face besides, I told myself) and chatted up some other girl for like a whole two minutes. Oh fuck, I have no game, I remembered, and went to find everyone else.

Shelly had crossed her alcohol line and was not all tossed and sleepy. And doing a back bend in a room full of lecherous fraternity guys is just about the best thing I can think of. If you want to be raped and hacked into pieces, buried in the Morrow Plots, I mean. We all ate tortilla chips and talked about my dong. Again. For some reason. Maybe it�s my fault. I can never recall. It just always seems to come up on its own.

HA!

Shelly would be in a coma soon, so we grabbed her and headed out into the world. What a slow drunken march that was. Luckily, we had interesting conversational topics, in that Shelly was trounced enough to speak of her rimjob experience and the fact that she would probably give it up to Kyle after they were done with GE312. What an odd landmark to base one�s virginity on. No, fuck marriage! As soon as I�m done with �Instrumentation and Test Lab,� you can go hog wild. Ooh, that�s a good nickname for Kyle, isn�t it?

LOL, we were looking at Amy Yan�s webpage the other day, trying to find something we could fap to, and there are a couple of pictures of Kyle from sophomore year. Holy lord, he used to be so fucking SKINNY! And attractive! He looked so much more Asian (I suppose the giant dragon shirt helped), but man alive, he used to be hot like his brother. Ah, time. Destroyer of all things.

Here's something I forgot: Spritz always wants to visit the dumbest places when we're walking back drunk, so he goes, "Let's go to I.T.! Let's go to I.T.!" Illini Towers, the rich kid dorms, are filled with sluts, according to Spritz, and it is our right - no, our duty - to go in and take advantage of them. So we walk in that direction and join up with this other party of dudes trying to get in. Thing is, none of us are actually allowed. Residents have special IDs and guests have to sign in with residents, but fuck that. We are a drunken army now, so we storm by, holding up random cards to the chick at the desk, who yells in vain to stop some of us. She finally latches on to Shelly and tries to call her back. Shelly nearly listens, too, until I pull her away and we run to catch the elevator with everybody else. Drunkenly giggling and paranoid, we decide we are being tracked and start dispersing at random throughout the hotel. Shelly goes the complete wrong direction, and we lose her. Spritz and I follow the guys we came in with, trying to find whatever party they're heading to, but it was no party at all, so we just start navigating floors at random, dodging imaginary guards, asking about any happenings (There were none), and wondering where the fuck Shelly could be. Luckily, she had the presence of mind to finally call us. She had wandered into some completely random apartment, as the dudes there looked on in confusion. How does she not get raped? How? And why that apartment of all of them? it was quiet, there door was closed, and she just bursts in. "I am being chased by guards." We got her out of their hair as quickly as possible, ran by security chick again, and out into the night to taunt the Red Cross campathon.

We continued to stumble across campus, eventually invading Allison�s place (Poor Allison Helm), eating her pizza and watching Spritz trash her at Mario Kart. Shelly kept falling asleep on me, but I�m desperate for human contact, so I�ll take it! On the walk home, Spritz ran up to the Republican House and tore down their windchime. We ran ahead without him and turned to find him sprinting towards carrying a small grill. �Check out this sweet grill I got!� he says, immediately dropping it thereafter. �Ah, it was too heavy.� Oh, alcohol, you ultimate source of ADD.

Shelly went to bed, and Spritz went to� where ever he fucking goes every night. Yeah, I�ve been wondering about that. He doesn�t sleep here pretty much ever (I�m usually up the latest, and I�ll hunt around. Not downstairs, bedroom door still open with his lights on), and I know he can�t be alone this long, so I have to wonder, who is he banging? Amber would be the easiest, and though he says he broke it off with her, he is the Lord of Deceit, so I�m not entirely sure. My hopeful little theory is that he visits that fat chick he was telling me about (I don�t remember the details, just that she gave him gin and had giant, giant boobs) and is now too ashamed to admit he�s returning to. I need to start tracking that boy. Lord knows what misadventures he�s getting into. And why wouldn�t he let me join?

My smart drugz tunnel vision has since switched to Freecell, that stupid reverse solitaire game included with Windows. I sit here for others, shifting cards around, until I can�t make sense of the screen anymore. It�s taunting that �it is believed (although not proven) that every game is winnable� so I have to sit around and play until I do, right? Oh, I�m right.

"you just drew a circle with what appears to be the star of david in the center of it as your 13 round pick"