10/22/2005 - 5:48 p.m. | gotta take a maaaad shizzy

All day, all week, I�d been talking about Allison and Smacko�s tequila party, how I already pretty much planned on ending that evening in vomit. It�s weird sitting sober on Monday going, �Yeah, I�ll be hurling in less than 120 hours.� As usual, I did not disappoint.

This might end up a remarkably short entry.

I tried for Perfect Drunk. Maybe that was my mistake. I thought I had a formula figured out: Get fairly tipsy, supplement, and then slow drinking down to a steady crawl for the rest of the evening. There are probably hundreds of other factors at play, though � things I could not even begin to understand, and it became pretty clear after not too long that I overshot my target and was going to make a mess of myself all night long. Awesome.

We all pregamed on the couch, as clearly drinking tequila with even the tiniest vestiges of sobriety would be a grave mistake. For entertainment purposes, I read this ridiculously long list of euphemisms for masturbation. It was exhaustive and for the most part nonsensical. Then, as a treat to my fans (and because I was getting fairly soused and generous by this point), I opened up my diary and read aloud a couple longer entries. It�s weird how the two we chose at random had certain similarities � Ruby Tuesdays, Shelly�s sister, something else. Then again, probably most things have eerie coincidences if you look hard enough.

Smacko came over to share a speech about lesbians, and then I doused him with some of my internet hormones. We are well into October now, and all bets are off if Smacko does not get with Allison soon. Had to step up the came, so I gave him one of my awful beige denim housing authority shirts, on which he wrote �TEQUILA NIGHT KING.� That�s sure to get him some ass. On my own part, I skipped the pheromones and wore the most atrocious shirt I own: This misshapen, dirty yellow piece of shit from Hot Topic that says, �Spin the Bottle: Regional Champion� on it (with diagrams!) I thought this would work twofold in his favor, 1) in that no one could possibly find me attractive in this shirt and 2) in that if things were slow at the party, maybe we could get a game of bottle spinning started, know what I mean, wink wink. Dank and Zouie came over, and everyone sat to watch old Michael Jordan games, as Kyle tried to force more booze on Dank. Keep it up, friend.

For my own part, having no computer and thus no cave in which to descend as usual, I ran around outside, singing along with my mp3 player and dancing all queerly. Supplementing as well. It was past ten by this point, and nobody seemed to be doing shit, so I went up to Smacko�s to see how the party was engaging. It was not. He and I were the only guests as a matter of fact, and I was not about to add foul tequila to my list of troubles, so I collapsed on a chair for a while. Jackson and some his friends arrive, and that was about the last of me being lucid for a while.

Everything else is a rough approximation, confirmed by various accounts from my friends. I left Smacko�s broken recliner after a while and went to stand out on the porch, where I met Sgt. Pepper and his motley gang. From there, I don�t know, I followed them back inside. Kind of gone for a while, you�d have to ask what I was doing from others. I remember shaking the hands of a few people, people I knew, as if somehow the handshake would confirm that they still thought I was all right, even if bombed out of my skull. Smacko and Allison ran out of booze pretty fast, I guess, so Dank (the sober one) was sent on a mission to procure some more. I asked to go along. Schnucks was a grand mystery by this point, but I do remember Dank buying a handle of vodka and thinking (hopefully not out loud, as that is sort of deranged) that this had to have been a first for him.

We drove home, parked the car, and I got out and vomited. Not much, I don�t think, but I really couldn�t say. In standard status quo defense, I insisted that I was fine and sent everyone on their merry way as I continued to hurl (dry heave mostly, I think). In all honestly, I was not fine at all and was actually at the very greatest depths of madness, but I wasn�t about to let on � even though it was readily apparent. Dank said I had crazy eyes, completely blank. Well, that�s what happens when you are in the fourth dimension. You don�t need senses there! DOY!

Anyway, I apparently made it back to Smacko�s, which is an amazing feat considering the dreamworld I was occupying. You ever play �Silent Hill,� where normal places transform into dark bloody disturbing hells? Yeah, Urbana was sort of like that, and I can I did not have the faculties to navigate such a place at that time. Isn�t that how it always is, though? Thrust into the dark labyrinth by the same things that make you incapable of dealing with it? I know that�s how it is with me.

Yes, yes, I know it was only like a half a block and a flight of stairs, but I am still unbelievably proud of myself for making it. Shelly and Andy and I were out there for a while, and while my condition had improved enough to remember things and not see monster and shit, it�s not as though I was completely hunky dory either. I do not believe I was speaking proper English at this time. It�s very frustrating to know what you want to say but hear it come out all jumbled, words missing and stuttering. Lord knows what we talked about, Andy and I, but I waxed poetic with Shelly for a time, something about ridding one�s self of sociopathic tendencies. I apparently dry heaved in a puke bucket for a while and then tossed it down the stairs. I know I had good reasons for doing this� if only I could just remember them.

I deemed myself healthy enough to walk into the party for a time. Probably another mistake. I made it about as far as the chair in the middle of Smacko�s kitchen. Spoke with Becky for a while, and she might have been another who mentioned my crazy eyes. Next time (oh there will be), someone, please take a picture! I sat (fell?) on the floor for a while, as Shelly tried to update me on the latest party news. I don�t think I got all of it at once, but here is a summary:

- Most of Allison�s friends are fat.
- One of Allison�s friends who was not fat was also very hot.
- Everyone kept insisting that Dank go talk to the hot not fat one.
- He did not.
- Allison was drunk probably and said that she thought Dank was cute and she might have considered him if only she hadn�t had fucked up romantic issues with other members of our social circle.
- Mike, the douchebag, showed up
- On a whim apparently
- When I noticed this, I mouted to someone, "WHAT THE FUCK?"
- I did not actually know the person I mouthed this to.
- So, I think Mike and Allison are broken up, but he was hitting on her because she is easy to hit on when drunk.
- As Smacko watched.
- As a result, Smacko slapped Kyle. A couple of times.
- Displaced anger.
- Douchebag Mike also started rifling through Smacko�s stuff. That�s weird.

Anyway, Shelly had me by the door and was trying to point out the hot blonde one Dank should talk to, but I kept only seeing this fat blonde one (most likely friends of the hot one and therefore always blocking my view). �WHAT, THAT FAT BEAST?� I almost surely yelled. Oh lord, tact was left behind in the fourth dimension.

Was the doorway to the living crowded? I like to think so, because otherwise me shuffling through them on my ass would seem like a very silly thing to do. I spoke with Jasmine and Hillary sort of � it is doubtful I was speaking coherently at this point either. We still had some hills to climb. I made my way to the couch and collapsed. Ruth was there, who I had invited, and I believe we spoke, but again, same problem. I got up to do� well, lord knows what, and somebody grabbed me and tried to get me to lie down or have some water or some shit. I was indignant. �Yes, I know I am very drunk, but there is no need to be patronizing�� Wow, I rule. (Well, that�s how it came out in my head anyway� In real life, I might have been grunting and spitting up all over myself).

I collapsed on Smacko�s bed for a time, and people kept checking on me. I was pretty cool, though, lying there flopping around, listening to whatever. I believe I cried out for the Streets, but no one heard or cared. Tear. Mike of all people came to check on me. Probably wanted to rifle through Smacko�s things again.

Deeming myself better for real this time, I got up and started mingling (by which I mean weaving in place in some corner). It was around then that Spritz found me. I tried to explain my situation, but I�m sure my speech patterns alone spoke more than I ever could. We came back to our porch, and he handed me Shelly�s pumpkin. �Smash this in the street.� I like to think I at least tried to argue with him on that, that I was not actually the zombie drunk I had heard so much about, but he Spritz-charmed me (�Listen, you said this pumpkin would be smashed by the end of the night, and we have to make sure it happens, right?�), so I lobbed it into the street. Did it break in half neatly?

Some other people came out, and there was talk of luring me into bed. None of that, friends. I�m just about getting good again! For real this time, I promise! Instead, I got to ride along with Dank, Zouie, Shelly, Kyle, and Spritz for food. Perkins first, but Perkins was full or something, so we drove on to Mary Anne�s. I know this is just dunk talk, but that fucking place looked like the future!! We�d been rocking some Ben Folds in the car, so then I was pretty much rocking it all night long, screaming the �Army� horn part to the night sky.

Roughly before two at this point, and I did not need to eat, but I had me some water. I also nearly got us into a couple of fights apparently. First, in Mary Anne�s, when we went to check some menu or something, someone covertly pointed out some girl and how her tits were all spilling out of her top. I was less covert in my observation of this (�GOD YOUR BOOBS ARE EVERYWHERE), apparently enraging her male friends. I was not aware of this rage part, at least not in full, but some wheels must have been turning somewhere, as I was already constructing a counter argument. How she wore that shirt because she obviously wanted people to notice and point it out, so who should be offended? I am wearing a yellow shirt, but I�m not about to start whipping tale if someone let me know. We do things to stand out! Of course, it would have been a hell of a lot less compelling if only every third word got out.

Ooh, I might have made fun of the girls at the next table over. And I definitely shit on Zouie for ordering cookies and cream ice cream, but God! Who does that?!

Second was on the way out when some guy was with some considerably less skinny girlfriend. I apparently did some sort of smarmy clap-and-point thing that might have been perceived as offensive. As I recall, though, I was drunk enough to think she was hot and was simply congratulating them on being young and in love.

Also, Spritz got me to shake with him on going to the stripclub the next day (tonight). I really do not think that is legally binding in that I pretty much would have slapped the waitress had someone told me to do so.

Also, I kept kissing Kyle. A lot. Lord, that�s a whole �nother buried sea of trouble. Even after multiple warnings, I kissed him on the forehead in our weird three person hug at the end of the night. �Sorry, man. I�m so gay.� Well, don�t let me be the last to know, self.

Strangely, not long after we got home, I almost completely sobered up and was ready to hit the town again. Somehow I did think anyone would be agreeable to the idea of me pouring more poison into my body, so I hushed up and focused on losing Mortal Kombat 3 to Kyle and Spritz. Eventually, it became a battle between the two of them, Ice Ninja and Crowd Control, to see who could pull off a stupid �Fatality!� first. I made pasta and tried to help, which mostly means yelling, �Crowd controooolllll! Crowd controoolllll!� Spritz pulled it off first, and everyone went to bed, leaving me alone and antsy and definitely not ready to rest yet. Pirates of the Caribbean it is then! Strange choice, that, and I kept being freaked out by Keira Knighley�s teeth. Actually, everyone�s teeth, so maybe I wasn�t as great as I thought. Still, I�m fine now, though, and maybe I will tone things down just a bit this evening.

When I am having nasty cunt smashed into my face in some hellhole in Danville, IL.