04.21.2002 - I am an island

Before I went to sleep on Saturday night, I mapped out my Sunday. That map ended up crumpled on the floor of my van underneath a pile of books and fast food wrappers, as hardly anything went according to plan today.

The first order of business was to drive out to Sacramento and get a new stereo installed in, as Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld's mom suggested I call it, the VAnGINA and catch Y Tu Mama Tambien one more time while I waited. For one reason or another, we ended up leaving too late to catch the movie. I got to the stereo shop knowing exactly what I wanted, expecting to pay a certain figure. The salesperson tacked on hidden fees that doubled that figure. Suspicious that the guy was trying to take advantage of my car stereo naivete, I punched him in the throat, shouted "FUCK WHITEY" and thrusted my middle finger in the air as I stomped out.

Before seeking an alternative stereo shop, Jackson and I went next door to Dimple so I could sell back some leftover CDs and hopefully pick up the DNTEL disc. I've found the secret to getting madd bling bling for my CDs is to take them in a few at a time rather than fifty at a time. I took in five horrible CDs that I paid about two dollars for in total and got nineteen dollars in credit. I only got about three times as much credit for eight times as many CDs last time I went in. If I can exercise minimal restraint, I can more out of my scam. I doubt, however, that this will happen.

From there, we hit another stereo shop who told me exactly what the first shop told me, only this shop wanted to charge me about sixty dollars more. While listening to bad mixtapes and the radio makes driving a little painful, I don't know that I'm prepared to drop the equivalent of a month's rent to be able to rock out properly. This pretty much made my decision to spend my car money on a computer instead.

Since we were in the area and the trip would have otherwise been a bust, we went to Costco to get lunch and pick up some wine to take to the shindig we'd be heading to afterwards. When I bought our food, I placed my order, pointed to Jackson and said, "and my lover will have a slice of combination pizza." The cashier, a surprisingly astute gentleman, backhandedly observed that Jackson is, in fact, too pretty for me and said, "this is your sweetie? He must be with you because you have the money."

I can't get a break.

After dropping off perishables at the apartment, we headed over to Mr. Bestfriendinthewholewideworld's girlfriend's apartment for a mid-afternoon birthday gathering for her. Not willing or able to socialize with a crowd who already knew and had developed a level of comfortability with everyone except us, we became an island. After only about a half hour there, we excused ourselves to visit Alyssa, who happens to live in the same apartment complex. Disappointed that she wasn't home but still unwilling to head back to the festivities just yet, we went over to Jackson's old roommate's apartment where we killed time watching Fox News and talking about movies. About thirty minutes later, we felt guilty and headed back. By that time, Rodney had showed up and things were marginally better. Still, I wasn't upset when people started leaving, as it gave us an excuse to follow.

When I got home, I called Katie like I promised, as we were supposed to hang out and talk. She assumed I would be out late because of the party, and as such, made other plans. I spent the next three or so hours sprawled out atop the covers on my bed until Jackson came in and mentioned Alyssa wanted us to join her in some Krispy Kreme. Thinking I could use more junk in my trunk, I accepted the invitation and prepared to clog my arteries with donut goodness.

Also, I plan on using the phrase "dumps like a truck" in everyday conversation from now on. Sisqo, where is your midget ass these days? I need you back in the limelight, buddy, so I can fantasize about stabbing you in the groin with a barbeque fork, because I may act that fantasy out on someone I know otherwise.

I had hot Krispy Kreme for the first time, and while they are markedly better, they aren't orgasm inducing like reputation would indicate. I thank Alyssa for giving them to me. I owe her booty now.

I came home and was greeted by a living room full of guests watching Space Ghost, and while I would have joined them I felt myself on the brink of a donut coma, and needed to get to bed pronto. Not thinking, I went into my room, dropped my pants and set to walking about the apartment in my underwear. At least The Mantenna didn't make a guest appearance, which is surprising, because he so does enjoy entertaining guests.

Here's the time where I pretend my head works like an Etch-a-sketch, shake it vigorously and hope everything erases so I can have a fresh start this week. Wish me luck.

-- Jeffy