-- I am Gaszilla today. Ho boy, I''ve been emitting noxious
fumes today. Someone should call the EPA on me. I pity those
who have had to walk behind me today.
This is all because of yesterday, when I went down to Maloney's with Das and watched the Bruin/Michigan game with him. There was much imbibing of beer to go along with some cheese dip, fries, and of course, basketball. Channel 5 sent a crew out to get some footage of the bar, and the field reporter actually interviewed Dave on tape. You could see my head just past Dave's piehole saying something about "having faith in the seniors...". We missed the 10:00 showing later on, but Dave said that they replay it at midnight. Not! Man oh man, I could have had Sharon Tay introducing a clip with me in it!! My big break!! Man oh man...but hey, we won.
And of course, several cheeseburgers later, there was further imbibing down in Garden Grove K-Town with Ray and his cousin Jo. I was so full by the time we got there that I could hardly drink any more, so I repeatedly went to the bathroom to make myself puke. I'm a bulimic drinker now, heh. Cool. I have like, uh, issues and things. Gagging oneself is an interesting experience. You gotta stick you finger way down there, and hold it. Only a few chunks come out at a time, so you gotta do it repeatedly.
Drinking actually helps me wake up early. I went to bed last nite around 1 AM or so, and woke up today at 6. That's friggin' amazing. I know how alcohol prohibits REM sleep and all that, but don't most people sleep extra-long hours after they drink heavily? I don't. I must be a mutant. Hmm, wonder if drinking helps me to study, too. Damn! I might have had the secret to good grades all along, only to not realize it until I'm almost through with school! Arrrgh! The irony! It's so painful.
Actually, I'm afraid to use the word "irony" anymore. I remember hearing how Alanis Morrisette kept misusing it in "Ironic", and I know I've heard snooty English majors go off about how they heard someone misuse it. Even though I could kick most English's majors' ass around the block a few times, I would feel guilty about it afterwards.
Had an interesting, and I suppose revealing, conversation about myself with Ray the other day. Would I rather go through my entire life not gettin' some, or would I rather get some from a female that I am not attracted to? I thought about it for a minute, which Ray couldn't believe (he thinks its a no-brainer -- take the ugly girl), but then I had to go the opposite way, and not get any in my entire life. Is that really so unbelievable? I dunno, I figure if you're gonna get some, then you should want to enjoy it, and want to remember it, so that years later, even if you aren't gettin' any then, you'll be able to say to yourself, "Well, at least I got some from that really hot Korean Bar Slut (KBS)." Who wants to remember gettin' some from someone who, if she didn't have the corresponding genitalia might as well be a guy? Maybe I'm dooming myself to a life of not gettin' any. Whatever.
On the other hand (the left one), it could be like drinking -- you might hate the taste of a $8 bottle of whiskey, but it feels good afterwards, huh? Damn. Now I'm killing my own argument.
And nobody try and complicate my argument by bringing up the subject of Love. I'll save that one for a rainy day.
Hopefully this might be the last nite I spend on Glenrock. I haven't been able to get ahold of Maya or Jenny the past few days, but I'm gonna keep trying tonite. I have to get out of this place; Ban brought up some new leases for me and Mark to sign today. No way in heck am I gonna sign that puppy. My mom is willing to pay rent for me to stay at Maya's the last two weeks. She's even offered to let Ban blame her for not letting me stay on Glenrock. What a mom. Then again, if you're son was living in a powerless, soon-to-be-phoneless, possibly soon-to-be-evicted apartment, what the hell would you do? Yeah, I'd make his ass get a job, too, but luckily, my mom isn't like that.
In any case, two weeks at Maya's isn't going to solve anything as far as my long-term prospects go. I have no idea what I'm doing after I finish up next Friday. God, I sure know how to plan em'.
Short Bus is looking at apartments in...Ferniadina (sp?) Beach, north of Jacksonville. Apparently all the one-bedrooms are taken and have wait lists, so all he can find are two-or-three bedroom apartments. He's looking at one that is a two-and-a-half minute walk from the ocean for...$600. A month. American. Unbelievable. You can't find a single in Westwood for $600. And it's at least a two-hour walk to the beach! In Santa Monica, a three-bedroom that close to the water would cost him, hell, $1600? Oh well, it probably sounds great now, but wait til' hurricane season. Watching yer neighbors truck fly by your window might make you reconsider how good of a bargain it really is. And would you want to live in a redneck beach community? I guess he would. Scott is total white trash.
Needless to say, I'm not moving in with him. I can't stand Florida, I can't stand small towns, I can't stand the Short Bus. 'Nuff said.