3/17/98 -- Gak.  It's now St. Patrick's Night, and, predictably, I'm not getting any.  I've come back from a night of supposed revelry to find that I'm really depressed.  Despite what should have been a good day (I managed to sneak out of Glenrock in one piece), I've found that I'm regretting ever having woken up this morning.  I skipped class, and then tore a contact lens this afternoon while packing, necessitating a long delayed trip to the opthomologist, whom I [aid $70 to tell me that my prescription hadn't changed one bit in two years.  Thanks alot, Dr. Hymen.  Maybe tomorrow I'll go and get my teeth checked by Dr. Vas Deferans, followed up by a routine ear check-up by Dr. Pubic.     
     Das, Paul, and Ramone had come up to help me move so that they could get free beer in return.  Lucky for me, Paul isn't much of a drinker and Ramone came late because he had to go back home to get his wallet.  Jimbo O'Kimbo, Julie Bae, and some guy she was with...Aaron (?) came by as well.  Anyhow, I drank lots of green Coors Lite, and got pretty drunk, resulting in many trips to the very crowded bathroom.  I'm sitting here a few hours later because no one wanted to do anything afterwards except go home and sleep.  I didn't have any cashola on me to pay Das, so now I'm in debt to him.  It was an incredibly unsatisfactory evening. 
     I guess I feel unsatisfied because for some reason, I came to the realization, much like Beavis in Beavis and Butthead Do America, that I'm never going to score.  Ever.  While everyone else talked amongst themselves, I sat and watched the other white people in Maloney's mill about and try to connive their way into getting some.  It was like being in a room where everyone is speaking Swahili, and then realizing that I'm never gonna learn it.  You can't just pick Swahili up by watching people speak it.  I'm never gonna learn how to get some since nobody offers lessons, so I'm screwed since I didn't learn it as a kid. 
     Other than that rather disappointing realization, tonight was still a big waste of time and (eventually) money.  Should have sat home at Maya and Jenny's and watched the Weather Channel.  Oh well, it's not like Dave wudda have helped me out for free. 
     Now I'm just sitting here watching my buzz fade off and watching the apparently Kaposi Sarcoma-affflicted screenwriter next to me mumble comments to himself as he edits his screenplay.  Apparently his screenplay, consisting of characters named Albert, Julia, and Edward, revolves around a murder.  Looking at homeboy, I get the impression the only thing he knows how to murder is a come-on line.   
     Jeezus, my I need to finish school, my dad is hassling me about what I'm gonna do after I graduate, Das is talking to me about getting a job (Das!), Nicole wants me to grab some anti-depressants from Student Death before I graduate, and I'm just trying to figure out what I want to do on a daily basis.  Oh God, make the bad voices go away!   
     I wonder what Ban must have  thought today when he got home and discovered all my stuff to be gone.  He must have thought (in Cantonese), "Holy shit, another white person has taken advantage of Chinese hospitality and run off!  Can't trust those fucking gweilos!"  At least now Mark, who saw me while I was packing, can get inspired to get his ass out, too.  He said he had a dream least nite where he discovered all my shit was gone except for my shoes.  How prophetic, and also how weird.  Must be all the acid. 
     At least tomorrow's comic book day.  I guess now I'll go home to Maya and Jenny's (the lab is closing , so it's not like I can go anywhere else).  Hopefully I'll be more cheery, and productive, tomorrow.
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