01/21/2006 - 3:32 a.m. | but this boy could use a little sting!!

It's so aggravating! I talk to Allison so's I can maybe meet up with Hillary, maybe walk her home, maybe a kiss good night somehow, maybe more... and then Allison just fucking absorbs me, and I am gone from everyone. I don't know how to get away without being rude. And I know you guys don't downright think Hillary is attractive, but right now I am so close to IMing her like, "I know we don't know each other very well, but I think you are very pretty and if you were interested, maybe we could hang out sometime," all earnestly and shit. But I can't I can't I can't, because that is creepy and wrong, and it's like I said, so fucking annoying. She and everyone else probably thinks I like Allison because I'm always around with her. Never my choice, though! Someone start informing people! Anyone, everyone. It would actually be doing me a favor.

I know, I know - ignore my black tears of sorrow. I'm like a single mom - get about 3 9 glasses of wine in me, and the loneliness starts to seem epic.

Tonight was... odd. And I'm not even as fucked up as I usually am when I say that. Kyle is back in town, and of course we spent the night in Kyle fashion - eating, not moving. Giant pizza. Basketball. Fuck it. It was enjoyable, but I started drinking anyway. Couple drinks, bottle of wine, I'm ready to go! I got in touch with Allison, and she said that she and her posse would be at Murphy's after they went to some frat, and that she would call me. And there was a call from her eventually that I missed, and no one was leaving our house on account of rain, so I decided to hoof it myself to the bar and see what was up. Thing was, no one was there, but then suddenly I kept stumbling into people. First I met up with uhhhhhhhhhhh the guy Shelly thinks has a big package, BowlCut, as well as Sgt. Pepper and creepy Jimmy, Andy's ex-roommate. And then Yong Chen. And then a ton a ton of other IMSA people. Andy Friedl, Eric Szczneiak, Niket (he goes here????????), some, uh, Asian girl who apparently knew me. Someone said Keegan was there, but the girl they indicated as such was chubby and goth and I did not think it was right. Also, Jeanna Jones was there, and apparently she did recognize me in the advertising classes we had together (even if it was as "Nick") and it was her birthday and she tried to make out with me (and everybody, so I'm not that flattered) and she was much more attractive as such than one can usually account for. "Yes, I have seen your boobs, what do you think of that?" Well, her angry Asian boyfriend dragged her off, and since I was attached to no one anyway (someone bought me a shot of something blue?), I followed Sczneneniaks and his crew to Joe's. I think I offended the one girl because she tried to dance with me, and I did not understand that it was on purpose and that it was because she was attracted to me. I kept considering it a series of accidents. Oops, accidentally rubbed her crotch on my junk! Another mishap! Andy Friedl is a standup man, swooping in to save the day, all confident and dancing with the girl and then trying to bring me back into it to repair my chances. I appreciate the thought, buddy, but I'm dead anyway. Even Saysneeack was up on some bitch. I was sort of lost in the crowd. Some Asian girl wanted my dong, but I've been hurt before, you know, and I wish I could just be charming and friendly when who should show back up but Jeanna Jones?? Again, up up on me, grinding her crotch into my fucking head, this is not how I recall love, until she is finally just too drunk and dragged home. See you in class then, huh? Remembering none of this, right? And, like I said, met up with Allison and that whole gigantic failure. Please stop being so touchy, I just want to do your neighbor and friend, thank you. I wish someone would just get with Allison so I could feel all vindicated and stuff.

I guess there was an explanation to my drunken debauchery. I spent roughly 6 hours today doing the most tedious filing imaginable. I was given this stack of invoices. "They are from 2004 and 2005. Organize them." This was not entirely true, as some trailed back to 97, 98, but I did so, by year, by block, by letter, by company, by date, all day long on the floor, organizing, reorganizng, sorting rapidly, mumbling to myself. A random British woman walked in to make fun of me. "They would not allow you to sit on the floor like that in Europe!" I nearly tore her larynx out. I thought you Brits were polite, eh? Acting like I'm not all there and shit. I don't know what killed me more - my back or my mind. Oozing out my ears. I'm so fucking bothered.