We bowled six games tonight — my best game was 107, and the rest were like 60. I was a lot more consistent — consistently knocking down seven to nine pins per frame. I got two total strikes for the day. Cake Woman’s best game was a 133.
Cake Woman got her new bowling ball yesterday and had it drilled almost immediately. She decided that it would be more cost effective to bowl for $1.50 a line in the morning than for whatever ungodly sum it is in the evening, so this morning we headed out bright and early to the Blainbrook Entertainment Center to break in her pearl blue ball. We were the first people to bowl, so when Cake Woman finished entering our names (”Death Cougar” for her and “Bilbo” for me), our lane broke the silence with a roar of machinery springing into action.
No, sorry. If it were that easy I would just put the Diabolical Biz Markie on repeat and drag myself out of it. Fuck yeah. However, NYC planning is going well, and as soon as I write one single paragraph for CSci 3081W, I will go to bed with a beautiful woman during the 24 hours of Valentine’s Day, and this time I didn’t have to pay for it and I probably won’t get crabs.
I’ve already got the syphilis. HAPPY VD!
Tonight, Cake Woman told me that she is taking me to New York City for spring break. This is the best Valentine’s Day ever, and it isn’t even Valentine’s Day yet. I usually can’t put into words how Cake Woman makes me feel, but it is always something akin to elation. When she smiles at me it’s like I’m not even on the planet anymore.
Coworker: Bla bla bla purse bla bla bla.
Me: I have a man bag
Coworker: Really? What does your man bag look like?
The jokes, at that point, made themselves.
They announced free t-shirts on Radio K, so I ran out of the office and down six flights of stairs to the basement to get one. They only had large shirts, but oh well. Then, I saw King Kwong’s girlfriend whom he had said had called me creepy (deeply wounded I was) and I tried to flippantly mention it, but my three or four hours of sleep betrayed me, and it came out in a confused jumble that ended with me wanting to run run run.
I did not have a camera, so there was no photo of DJ Paul, Dave Hill, Zach, and I all wearing our emo glasses. I kind of wanted to start a band called “the Emo Four” but there was no time and the last thing that the world needs is four more grown men crying to sleepy beats.
I’m feeling much better in general, except for that nexus of homework that has hit me. I have more to do but my eyes are burning already, so I guess that I will ahve to try to “get up early” or “do it instead of paying work.” This semester has not been great for me getting work done. I’ve either been distracted or… I dunno… crazy or something. I used to have distractions well under control — a fifteen minute tour of the internet would lead into me biting down on a problem and taking care of business. Now everything is looking NP complete, which basically means intractable, which basically means that computers can’t calculate it in reasonable amounts of time. I just want to tell everyone to fuck off and take myself to someplace warm and sunny where I can sit inside with the windows open and nap or something.
I’m gonna go brush my teeth and try to sleep early.
My mom went with me to buy schoolbooks and then my glasses, which involved visiting Coffman (where I work, but on a different floor) and then the north suburbs. At one point I tried to drive from Blaine to Brooklyn Park, or something like that, and the moronic traffic and ill-designed roads caused me to unleash invectives that actually melted the windshield of my mother’s Camry. Later I shivved someone in a store.
I figured it out, though, while sitting and waiting for the salesperson to finish my glasses order — my broken and cockeyed glasses are causing my murderous rage. Interestingly, the rage came on before the headache, but now that my eyes feel like they are being plucked from my head I will no longer be able to climb to the roof of a building with a high powered rifle and shoot people. Instead I will have to use a shotgun or grenades at closer range. It will just be easier on my eyes.
I’m gonna go lie down and picture rivers of blood.
This is the third day that I have woken up wanting to kill everyone. I have been specifically forbidden from pounding the keyboard with my fists at work, so I don’t know how I will deal with my inexhaustible and inexplicable rage.
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