10/06/2005 - 9:32 p.m. | she's eating rice with her formula now because she's a piggy

I really don't have much to write about at the moment, but there's always something, right? I'm going to St. Louis for the weekend for Missy's niece's baptism. There's nothing I like like family and religion and meetings with estranged girlfriends whose tongues have been in other dudes mouths since we last met. I still have no idea what to do about that one there, kids. She's remorseful, and I'm not particular angry, but I don't know if staying together is right. I'm hoping this weekend will shed some light on my feelings. Maybe being there and actually having to kiss her will just make me sick, and I can end it. Her fault, not mine, get out scot free. Heh, I apparently subscribe to the same philosophy of relationships that I have when it comes to employment. No matter how bad things were getting, quitting looks better than getting fired.

The other night (after a discussion of caloric intake and expenditure with Missy), I had a strangely grounded conversation with Smacko about how fucked up we both are. I feel really bad about this whole Allison thing. I feel like if I'd never had that ten minute crush on her that she and Smacko might already be together. But how the fuck am I supposed to fix that? I mean, I try and stay out of the way - but not too out of the way (or she'll get drunk and say I hate her over and over again), but she can't seem to come to a decision. I'm fresh fuck out of ideas.

Well, that's not entirely true. This summer when we were talking once, she described a typical scenario wherein she would get drunk, hook up with one of her guy friends, and things would never be the same again between them. This could very well work, but I just don't think I'm ready to take that big of a hit for the team. Time heals all wounds, blah blah.

I was drunk.

Anyway, I'd rather be in town this weekend. Maybe I am getting tired of "the scene," but it's not like real life is any better by comparison. Hot Michelle and I might have actually tried to stick to our plans for once. Incidentally, she was telling me how jealous Spritz is that I am talking to her more these days. That is the definition of an added perk. Sometimes when he's not there (and when Kyle and I are trying to investigate where he goes at night) we check his open AIM windows for clues. I freely admit that he is King AIM, but the question is, how much of that is really Spritz and how much is a script he strictly abides to? I worry about my friend Spritz sometimes. I can't see him ending up happy.

And not even "not ending up happy" in the way where you are actually sort of happy because of masochism (e.g. failure is its own form of shining success - creating the perfect fuckup seems just as impressive as creative the perfect success) but more like the sham life where he might rich and successul, maybe even powerful with a pretty wife and mistresses or whatever, but lord... what is he feeling underneath?

Oh - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, by the way, Spritz.

Actually, come to think of it, I'm getting more worried for my friends than for myself lately. Shelly is unhappy because she is not getting the jobs she wants, Kyle changes his mind on his plans every ten minutes, Smacko is fucked like me, possibly coerced into the family business, and all thus business with Spritz. It's going to suck when we're all torn apart, but where will we all end up with the ashes scatter? Mixed metaphors are fun.

I secretly sort of want to write a memoir, so I figure every failure will only lead to success in the long run (e.g. more stories to tell). But if you just fail fail, or fail in a more indirect sense - maybe with an well-paying, unfulfilling job you ultimately hate - that's pretty much what you're stuck with.

And if I write a failed memoir that can't even get published, more power to me.

In job interviews, I am going to start referring to myself as a bard. That should win some hearts. "Why have you not stuck with a job for more than six months?" Just trying to be well-rounded! Ah, but it presents the idea that I am easily bored and uncommitted to larger vision of the Company. Oh, really? Who could have imagined? I'm going to end up a god damn hippie.

It's midterms week, so projects and tests and all that. I don't really want to talk about it.

Drew sits by me in 452 now. Yay, I made a friend. And when I say mean things to the middle aged mom ("When I read your poem, it made me want to leave"), she laughs. That's all I want, really. Someone to laugh at the cruel things I say and do to people. No matter how many things of chips and diet juice they bring to class.

Smart drugz note: I can't get to sleep before 4 anymore. I tried real early even, but I'd just lie there and think about Stephanie Zawada's tits or that fucking Venom truck cartoon (Do not worry if the link fails, I will keep backup copies on me at all times here on out), and I just laugh and roll around.

Here's a sad little insight into my psyche: Whenever Hillary puts up an away message like tonight's ("Star Course barcrawl! Call the cell and come meet up with us!!"), I always secretly hope that this invitation is for my benefit, that she knows I stalk her, that she stalks me similarly, and that she would be okay with us doing it on a park bench if I only had the guts to do as her away message advised. I'm creepy. :(

Lord, what's wrong with me. I should start masturbating again, as it tends to work twofold against my libido. One, it cleans all the nasty semen out of my brain cavity, and two, it makes me despise myself for having thoughts of women such that I wouldn't touch anyone even if they threw themselves at me. In that unlikely event, I mean.

lol, tonight would be a good night to go to the strip club, that's all I'm saying.