12/23/2005 - 12:00 a.m. | and you can't believe you still walk the streets

All right, briefly, before we go seclude ourselves and start trying to write real entries, let's just zig and zag our way through the few things for today.

Before I left for home, I sat around and thought about what was the smarmiest thing I could eat while driving. I decided it was saltines. Personally, I would be enraged if some dickhead flew by at high speeds eating a stupid salty cracker all slow and deliberate-like. I would probably want to kill that person. So saltines it was. I hope it worked. Happy holidays.

I looked up flu symptoms today, so that I can begin faking them at the apprpriate time such that I will unfortunately have to miss the New Year's party, which of course I do not plan on missing at all. I know, put me on the naughty list or whatever, but I think piecing this shit together is the only thing keeping me in this relationship.

I arrived home, no one was there, and all the doors were locked (or they would have been were my parents not going senile). I called, and they were out for dinner (silly me for leaving my phone off pretty much always), so I got back in the car again to meet them. It was worth it, though, for some surprising dinner conversation. Apparently when they were in their late teens, my parents did an insane amount of coke. They slipped it so nonchalantly into conversation, too. Some song was on, and they were like, "Yeah. I remember that time. Tim Ola's van. Like with gritted teeth. Yeah, cocaine. Yeah, that was good stuff." O RLY? It seems they were coke fiends for a few years - my dad was a small-time dealer even with like a Mason jar and a huge straw or something - and then when they got married they just... stopped. So fucking weird. I mean, I knew about the weed - that's nothing at all - but coke is fucked. up. Even people like Smacko, who try nearly everything, are a little sketchy when it comes to cocaine, and here are my frumpy old parents snortin' it up like gangbusters. From psycho coke dealers to playing some gay board game (DaVinci's... CHALLENGE!!!) with their nerd son at home 25 years later. Time does cruel things.

So they start asking about the shit my friends have tried, and I mentioned the ritalin snorting, and my dad is all like, "Yeah, I guess I snorted some speed there for a while. I never told you that, I don't think, Nance." :O Now, honestly, I am going to seem so damn lame to my kids should a similar conversation ever roll around. "I loved cough medicine! LOVED IT!" Snore. Still, sure seems like some parents have less and less of a leg to stand on, you know?

I'm very thirsty right now, but there is no soda or juice or tea, only like 40 dark-as-mud beers in the fridge. I would have some wine, but I had a big ol' glass at the restaurant, and I was perhaps a bit too merry on my drive back home. I think the last bits of the medicine are wearing off, getting rid of the unusual side effect of being a delayed-reaction lightweight. I could drink forever before, and it wouldn't be 'til like three hours later that it all kicked in and left me fucked. Now I'm just a regular old lightweight :( Also, strangely, I have begun to have moods again, which seems trippy as eff compared to how I've been for the past 2, 3 years. "Pissy? I remember you!" "Mania, my old chum! Good to see you!" I don't know what I'm doing with myself.

I tried MARVIS, the jasmine toothpaste today. I taste like a fucking herb patch. Meanwhile, the badger toothbrush loses about 5-10 hairs with every use, leaving me with something of a nasty hairball each time. This is just the kind of masochism I want!!

UPDATE: In the back of the cupboard I have discovered the fossilized remains of a container of Country Time lemonade mix. It has been with us since the Origin of Species. O Savior!