03/11/2006 - 7:33 p.m. | all you do is leech off Sarah Zhong's cuteness collapse

I�m surprised to inform you that we are good deal further along on this whole cockamamie �good weekend� scheme than I ever really intended. Well, you know. Good in my terms. Like, a really good weekend if I were normal would be some passionate necking with Hillary (lol necking), but pretty much I like it a lot better when random shit happens.

I did all sorts of manly errands during the day (assuming that watching �The Suite Life of Zack & Cody� while fixing a bike is a manly thing to do) and was eventually summoned to White Ho to meet Shelly and her coworkers for free hybrid beer. Jevon had mixed Bud Select and Rolling Rock into a single pitcher. I could not even slightly tell the difference. I could have even told you whether it was light beer or not. I also tried describing my diary to him, and he did not understand how my entries could possibly be so long. I believe this is something of an answer.

Shelly was a little buzzed and suddenly got it into her head to dye her hair. I was down with that, so we ran out to get some dye, which I applied for her just in case she got confused and tried to swallow it or something. While she went to wash it off, I sat in the living room, watching �High School Musical� on Disney Channel and eating carrots, and Smacko came in. He invited me over to watch basketball with him and Omar, but I�d had my fill of manly things for the day and told him to piss off. I must sing along with all these catchy tunes, I�m sorry. Shelly�s hair is lighter and sort of red from the dye, and I don�t think she likes it, but I think it looks well enough.

It doesn�t entirely make sense, but I feel like I was drunkest at this part of the evening, as it�s the least I remember. After the movie, I came upstairs to download some Deep Blue Something and yell it, but I think I was too drunk for Freecell or Solitaire actually, so what was I doing? I have no idea. Shelly told me that she was heading over to Smacko�s and that I was to follow at my leisure. Thankfully, I was motivated enough to do so.

Omar was over. Obviously. You have not been introduced to Omar yet, but there is a retroactive entry in the works. Along with like six others, all at like 66% progress. That�s how I sort of feel about life, I guess. 66% progress. Anyway, Omar was over with his tall awkward friend (Is it just me, or are all really tall, lanky people just so gawky and looming and creepy?), and of course they are going to smoke, and I sort of watch them do this through a haze of wine, only slightly peeved that they lack the decorum to offer us any. We settle back down, I think, but this was all pretty boring for everyone, and soon it is time to leave.

Shelly has decided that we need to start going out earlier in the evening. I am not sure what to think about this. More time for adventures, yes, but we also arrive at parties when they are all dead, and we must look so sad to everyone else (just as they look to me). In this case, it would eventually work out in our favor, but at the time, Party 1 was right depressing. We may have half-heartedly tried dancing, but the social pressure soon quelled that, and we were back on the streets to find Party Two.

Unfortunately, it was so damn early, I guess, that there was no sign at all of the second party yet. Well, it didn�t help that all we had was a street we�d heard from Spritz, but there was no real sight or sound of the thing to help us narrow it down. So, we�re sort of wandering, I think, and someone spots some people up on the balcony, and we ask them first if this is the party (it is not) and then where the real thing might be. They try to direct us, I assume, and everyone heads off. I�m sort of lingering, though, lost in a winish haze, and somebody from the balcony calls out, �Hey, brown shirt!� I look down and realize that, yes, I am wearing a brown shirt and suddenly I am all up in this weird little gathering. Shelly is let in, Jevon climbs up the balcony (Jevon loves to climb), and the gathering has nearly been transformed into a party. OK, that�s not true.

It dawned on me very, very slowly that this sausage party really was a sausage party, that all of these gentlemen were gay. That�s cool, though. I didn�t really mind anyone besides the super nerdy looking guy (Jevon said he had a wolf on his shirt, which is a sure sign of greatness. That is normally the type of thing I would notice, but I believe the over ugliness of his face and hair trumped the silliness of his shirt), and the one main guy Brian was fucking awesome. He pretty much loved me, too, mostly because I was so drunk. He kept insisting on this, but I could not honestly believe he was right. �Dude, you have such drunk eyes.� �Naw, man. It�s just from the eye surgery when I was 3. No problem.�

I tried to keep riding the wave, but they had absolute turds to drink. They had one of those Friday�s drinks you�re supposed to mix with ice in a blender, no blender, though, so it was just this foul Pepto Bismol concoction with an ice cube floating sadly in it. When I finally choked that down, I spotted this bottle of lemonade. A total score, I thought, until I saw what was actually sitting around to mix in it. Some fancy ass dark spiced rum, brandy, or tequila. Uh, yeah, we�ll go with the tequila, I guess. Pretty much like a margarita now, right? Shelly told me it made her want to vomit every time she tried it.

Brian had his iPod hooked up and, besides an unfortunate Scooby Doo fetish, he had some fairly entertaining things. He was quite impressed with how many songs I knew the lyrics to (especially considering my alleged condition, I guess), but he would not play that Finger 11 song. Such a good drunk song. I was probably whining about it even, but he maintained that it would kill the mood of the party. Yes indeed, the kickin� party.

There was one other girl there, Rachel, a fag hag to the extreme. She was so pleased to actually encounter straight people again that she wanted a piece of both me and Jevon. You can have her there, buddy. I�m still months and months away from the level of desperation it would take to get with a redhead in corduroy pants.

We eventually decided to head back out to Party Two, now assured that it would be completely in full swing. And hosted by Sarah Zhong, allegedly. Brian and his friends followed in time, but we made our arrival alone. It wasn�t bad, as parties go � live music, artfags dancing � but I guess I wanted more adventures and less of the same old thing we�re always doing. Smacko, Spritz, and Allison arrived out of the ether, and it was all right to see them. Allison may thankfully moving beyond me now even when drunk, as she has Spritz to occupy her attentions. God willing they will fuck at some point. We are actually taking bets if you are interested. Spritzes need not apply.

Today's title comes from what I planned on saying to Adina had I actually run into her at Sarah's party. Fortunately, I did not.

There was this one girl there in like a 50�s cocktail dress, and I thought she was like the cutest thing ever. She wasn�t outstandingly pretty or anything, but she was so weird and tiny and awkward that I just wanted to make her happy so much. Shelly insisted that if I asked her to dance, I pretty much would have made her night, but I guess I still do not hold myself in as high regard as she does. Maybe it was all just an act to seem so nerdy and cute. Anyway, Kelsey, as we called her (named after a similar looking character in �High School Musical�) ran around drawing on the walls and stuff (So weird - Is this even your house, Kelsey?), and I kind of followed nearby, but I�m still lightyears away from even a modicum of courage. Oh, well.

After the cops came and the music was turned down to a whisper, we all decided to return to Party 1 and see how it was shaking at this point. Along the way, I had my arms around Rachel and Brian, and I gave this lengthy speech about how I wished I could be gay. If I had to give it a title, I would call it �If Only I Could Smoke Some Pole, Brian.� He thought I was hilarious.

Party 1 was pretty rockin� by now, but I think I am finally starting to really internalize that it wasn�t Missy that kept me away from girls, it was the terrible, terrible anxiety. My brain tries to help, telling me that the one pretty Asian girl was throwing glances, even telling me that I had a pretty good in, helping her to get away from the giant douchebag who did not seem to get that she didn�t want his dong in her butt, but I guess I still believe it is my brain just talking. If that makes sense. Apparently Shelly and I attempted some sort of a dance move (this is all based on hearsay) and she fell to the ground on her knees in some sort of maneuver that actually got a pained reaction from the crowd.

Bored with the party, I dragged Shelly and Jevon outside to get some Jimmy John�s. Brian and his crew were allegedly joining us, but all of that fell immediately apart when we saw the cop car parked out on the street. Suddenly, one of Brian�s buddies, drunk as madness, is all having lights shined in his face and all that. He did seem to get the gravity of the situation, though, and took his time in locating his wallet and ID, even stopping to put on some chapstick. This enraged said officer. �This is not a time for chapstick! You are talking to a police officer!� He was right fucked, obviously, but pretty soon, as it always happens, police were arriving out of the woodwork, spiraling out to check everyone�s ID in this one poor fellows vicinity. Oh thank God we�re finally of age.

We made it to Jimmy John�s fine, but Shelly was playing with my poor drunken sense of body image and Jevon would not give me a drink of his soda to save my life. That fucking bastard. He wanted some of my stolen chips for an exchange, and I was indignant in this state that he would do anything so capitalistic. He has limitless soda; I have scant amounts of chips. I will not meet the demands of terrorists.

On the way home, I pulled a sign out of a median � well, the metal prongs that usually hold signs anyway � and danced it up and down the street, calling it Lobstor, my new pet. Obviously, the night was drawing to a close.

When I got home, however, I couldn�t find my fucking glasses to save my life, and it was making me so upset. Shelly, limitlessly helpful, said something sassy about how I apparently lose things too. I wanted to bash her face into the wall. Actually, what I really, really wanted was for everyone to go away and leave me to my search alone. I assume this was because I wanted free reign to talk to myself with impunity, but I was still very, very adamant. Just go away. Finally, they did, and I came up here to lie down and �think� about where they could have possibly turned up. Apparently this worked, for when I awoke, they were sitting right there next to me. And right after I had a dream about someone pouring boiling water on my face! Yaaaay!