Another day done, another day productively wasted. I didn't expect anything more than this but its disappointing nonetheless. Its not necessarily a long day mind you but its typical enough even for an animal of routine to get bored with.

I get woken up at around 12:30 (mind you thats like 6 am for me since I sleep at ungodly hours) by my uncle to fix the garbage compactor. He kept on referring to it as the "garburator" and I'm not sure whether to laugh or whether to check to see if he's right. After an hour of dealing with the items that we have discarded down the sink for the last 3 years, I thought to sleep, only to be called upon again. This was a social call, and was one that I didn't really mind. I decided to make lunch and MrFurious joined me. I was glad to have the company and was glad that he didn't choke on the chicken noodle soup.

We head out to finish my errands, and tried to fish out a dreamcast. Apparently, its been recently reduced down to 50 USD so thats like 80 bucks CDN. But to no avail, as they still sell it here for 100 bucks. I'm not quite sure whether he's still going to buy it but it would be fun. I might be more excited than he is. I'm such a lamer.

I head off to the doctor. He was an hour late but since he's one of the nicest guys in the medical field I've met, I didn't mind. Well, at least until he used nitrogen to get rid of an infection on my legs. Walking like I've just had a prostate exam, MrFurious, me and Mike went to eat quickly at Wendy's. I'm not particularly pleased with that food, but cardboard from Wendy's and cardboard from McDonald's don't matter much for me (as one can see, I don't really have the highest regard for fast food as a former employee of 3 years). We played about 3 hours of Counterstrike in a place where one whole inhale of air indoors would take 3 minutes of your life due to the amount of cigarette smoke. I wanted to say "I ordered a Zima, not emphezima" but decided against it.

On the ride to Mike's house, of course, we heckled him about his cousin. She's still jailbait but she's cute for her age I suppose. He is disturbed by the amount of interest in the topic but I suppose the interest is proportional to the amount of discomfort that the interest itself generates in him. Crude, but effective nonetheless.

Tomorrow is another day, one that might delve into activities that isn't typical. We might hang around FEMALES! Hanging out with all guys might have weirded me out by now. We might go to Karaoke, but at this point, with the expected attendance, I might not attend. I'm not particularly comfortable in crowds, especially when show tunes and bad harmonizing is involved. Maybe I should just stay home and do some studying. Maybe. Maybe not. Its the thought that counts right? Isn't it?


My name is enwhysea and I have a nice guy complex (tm)

I got a nifty LJBF sort of line hidden inside a reply to my sort of "Should I hit on you" knowing we are allready good friends question.

Guess what, I'm not broken, I'm not going to rant about it and cry about it and write up a gazillion nodes about it.

I am going to live my life, be friends with "her" and maybe try again when the time is right.

She is amazing and funny and cute. Not as smart as I would have liked... but i'll live with it.

The question is,... more words? or should I just kiss her?

But, why am I asking YOU?

You will remember, if you've been following this tale, that on Wednesday of last week, Martin (our builder) said we wouldn't be seeing him until Wednesday of this week or today.

However, last Friday morning we got up to find someone had delivered a large window. It was sitting on our front path. We first phoned the loft conversion company, who called Martin, who phoned to say he'd be around shortly to move it. Indeed he was. I lent a hand, moving the double-glazed panes as he removed them then helping him move the frame around to the back of the house - safe and out of the way.

Saturday and Sunday passed unmolested - if somewhat unsettled - and on Monday, as expected, the plumbers' merchant man turned up with a replacement toilet pan. However, this one had the same fault, being unglazed under the rim, so we decided we'd live with the one we had.

We heard nothing from Martin on Wednesday, so we assumed he'd be here today. At 8am, my wife phoned me at work, having chased him up due to his non-appearance, to say he wasn't expecting to turn up until Monday.

We've had three and a bit days' work done in the 12 days of the build... I admit to being not particularly impressed.

I got a hair cut yesterday for the first time in almost three years. I woke up around 10:30, hopped in the shower, and then spent an agonizing half an hour detangling the soggy mess of hair trailing down my back without end. I usually don’t bother brushing or combing my hair until it’s dry – saves my arms the stressful workout and my head the painful dull ache as a result of pulling incessantly at the unruly strands for long periods of time. But I had a purpose, so what needed to be done was done as it should have been.

I only got about fourteen inches cut off the bottom. I saved it in a little ponytail so I can call Locks for Love and see if they could use it. My hair was well below my bottom and well on its way to knee-length, which caused all sorts of what should be simple activities to turn into major challenges. At the top of the list was using the bathroom, sleeping, sitting, and closing car doors. This trim was long overdue.

Besides the haircut, Thanksgiving was pretty standard. We had the usual group of relatives flock to our house, the usual Thanksgiving food: turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole with mushroom soup and crispy stuff on top (the kind clampe likes to eat too), amazing fruit salad prepared by my mom’s brother’s wife, stuffing, yams, all too much gravy and other sickening condiments that I avoid like the plague, salad, some sort of cheesy goo with unidentifiable ingredients, cranberry goo from three cans, and lovely salt and pepper dispensed from turkey-shaped shakers purchased from Pfaltzgraff.

And then there was dessert.

Thirteen pies. Thirteen. Well, one was actually a bunt cake, but nonetheless, I was impressed. We had a few pumpkin, sweet potato, apple, mince meat, raspberry, banana cream, pecan, lemon, pineapple, and several more that I didn’t have the chance to try. By the end of the day, I had eaten the equivalent of one and a half pies all to myself. I gained a whole pound. And then I got the worst stomach ache for a few awful hours. I’m finally in the last stage of recovery from that, and I even felt well enough to finish off the bunt cake and pecan pie for breakfast this morning. With root beer and cold turkey. Mmmm.

My mother bought a game cube for my brother on the 18th, complete with Luigi’s Mansion and Tony Hawk, two extra controllers and two memory cards. $420. Insane, if you ask me. And now it’s sitting in my parents closet, unopened and unplayed, where it will remain until Christmas. I don’t know how much I like that part.

A friend of mine bought a Game Cube yesterday for himself, along with some wave runner game with an amazingly high level of skill required to play. We convinced him to buy a copy of Luigi’s Mansion from Meijer, and played that game for hours. The graphics are incredible, but the CD is so tiny. The game cube itself is tiny. The controls are shaped in the most perfectly comfortable way, and the games were mostly fun to play. I can’t imagine being a young kind at this point in gaming evolution – I remember being excited when my parents bought my brother and I a Nintendo when I was six. Mario Brothers will always hold a place in my heart as being true entertainment instead of a step towards more technology and better graphics. But I have to admit, I am damn impressed with Nintendo’s progress. Everyone should own a game cube. Get yours today.

It’s only 3:30 and I’ve already had three meals and taken a nap. I may as well just call it a day.

Bah. I've gotten fuck all done today. I managed to find and then fix one bug in our high availability system. Basically standby didn't know about the Firecard or Firecard Plus device types, so it said "screw you, I'm not going to standby mode for you!" and bailed. After explaining to standby about Firecard and Firecard Plus, it agreed nicely to let them go into standby mode. But that's aboot it. I've had this other bitch of a bug hanging over my poor coders head for a week now related to VPN and the new version of FreeSwan ( where this upgrade from version 1.8 to version 1.91 now refuses to connect, with all sorts of weird shit. The people who are supposed to be helping me didn't do much, either asking me ever couple of hours if it's fixed yet or telling me "it didn't work" and the looking at me like I'm speaking german when I ask simple questions like "so what did it actually do?" Oh, and telling me "xxx is what is causing the problem" is great, but I told them that that was the problem a couple of days ago and asked how to fix said problem.

In 30 minutes we go to play some volleyball, which will be nice. I'd love to say that I can sleep in on Saturday, but we have a volleyball tournament for charity on Saturday, with our game times being 9:45am and 4:45pm. Pretty awful huh? I guess I can get some work done (or some quake playing) in between as they place we're playing is just down from the office. I'm much rather it was just down from home, so I could go and nap/hack/whatever instead of being faced with a 30 minute drive each way. This way I get out of helping my girlfriend doing manual labor at her parents to get the barn ready though ;)

Kitten pictures are up at by the way. The little grey one is the new girl, tentatively named "Jewel". The big black one is Rex, a street cat that I adopted, and the other is Cornelius, who I got as a kitten from an ex-girlfriend a couple of years ago.

Seconds Later....

Wow, that was wierd... as soon as I submitted this writeup I got a message saying that I just gained 11 XP. Nothing got C!ed (no messages from cool man eddie and I don't see any big increase or decrease in other nodes' score. I did just vote on a bunch of writeups, and according to xp whoring for dummies each vote has a 20% chance of gaining 1 XP, but that would (even at each vote getting me one XP) only have gained me 7 (the daylog entries for today) so far.

Today was a difficult day. I have this horrible demon-spawn flu which descended upon me overnight. Here in the U.S. the day after Thanksgiving is the busiest shopping day of the year. I work retail, and even though I was way too sick to go to work, I had to, as my co-workers would defenestrate me if I didn't show. So, somehow at 6:00 AM I pulled myself out of bed, and stumbled into the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich. Why I felt the need to make a sandwich is beyond me, when I have a fever I do stupid stuff like that. While getting dressed for work, I watched the news, and saw my store on TV being filmed from a helocopter. There were people lined up all the way around the store's circumfrence, some 600 people or so.

I drove to work, with my head pounding as if someone had let a rabid dog loose in it. As I pulled into the parking lot, I had to avoid about 40 stupid people standing in the middle of the street, for no apparent reason but to prove that they could. I ended up parking so far away from the store that it took me almost 5 minutes to get to the door, where people started screaming at me for "cutting in line." I tried to explain that I'm an employee, but they didn't buy it and I had to be rescued by a security guard. It's funny how people react to uniforms. I managed to squeeze my way in, and I was almost trampled by all the people rushing to the electronics department so they could get their crappy $48 stereos. I grabbed some cold medicine and a bottle of water. Thank goodness for the grace of St. Dayquill. The rest of the day is a big blur of ringing people up. At the end of my shift, I had personally rung up over $12,000. I came home, collapsed into my bed and fell into that psuedo-sleep one has when one's really ill. I kept having dreams about cashiering. I'd say "Sorry, could you go to the next cashier? I'm asleep right now." I woke up about 8 hours later, thristy enough to drink the Nile. I got some soup, some water, and proceded to write this whiney day-log.

Can't wait for tomorrow...

She is an industrial girl. Her hair, as much as I can see in the flashing darkness and smoke, is green, and in little clumps of braids all over her head. She is wearing baggy jeans, almost phat, but she would never wear anything so crass as those. A bit of her tummy shows above her studded belt and below the bottom of her shirt, which has a fairie on the front and stars on the sleeves. A telltale sparkle tells me that her septum is pierced. A glittery choker, and sensible shoes complete the outfit. Her curves attract me, right after her hair; and I can see the muscles on her stomach that develop when a curvy girl has a lot of sex. She bounces.

I doubt she even notices me, although it sometimes seems, when we are the only two dancing, that we dance around each other, like leaves caught in a whirlpool.

She affects my dancing, making me spin more, making me move my arms in flowy waves, though not liquiding; she makes me remember why I stopped moving my arms like that. It hurts, but I do it anyway. I try not to stare, but my gaze is inevitably drawn to her. She dances almost like I do, but with a feminine grace that I could never match, not even in my belly-dancing and gender dysphoria days. She belly-dances to Wreath of Barbs and Slut; without breaking stride she begins to flail and convulse to Hocico. She is beautiful.

At one point I almost have the courage to go and tell her so, but I know that she would lose everything that makes her special, unless she didn't. But no, she could never live up to my ideal of her, even if she was a geek girl, in love with Chuck P and VNV Nation, the embodiment of a future pop attitude, a chaote. She would still let me down.

I see her in the light, once, she is friends with my friends. She is disappointing, even though I can see the glitter on her cheeks now, and that her hair is actually a greener shade of turquoise. Still, I watch her moving in the darkness, and I love her, whatever imperfections she may have.

I stood just offstage. The people onstage were a group of four b-boys. Each one would stand close to the edge of the stage until it was time to do their stuff: uprock, the worm, six-step, that sort of shit.

Two weeks ago, I thought about using breaking in my bit, until I downloaded some moves from (I think that's the site), and realised that it would probably take a while (like an hour), and an effort, to actually learn how to do them properly, so I dropped the idea.

The b-boys finished and went off, and Ben announced me on the mic. He pointed to me. I hesitated because I was confused because I thought my name was eighth on the list.

Anyway, I came on. I hadn't even started dancing, and the crowd started cheering for me.

Goddamn. I think I spend too much time at Deuce (being the local underage nightclub). Maybe it's the fact that whenever I go to the Clubhouse (being a local overage pub and nightclub), the girls seem to be considerably less impressed. Or they hide it better. Or there's just less girls. Plus there is always the chance of getting carded by security, but that's not usually a problem if I don't shave for a few days.

So the music comes on (Bomfunk MC's - Freestyler), and I can barely hear it - a combination of the fact that the speakers point away from the stage, and the fact that it just couldn't compare to the screams and cheers. Ben told them the dancers or dance troupe with the best response from the crowd would win, you see. (aaaarrrrrrrgggggghhh!)

My style is basically a combination of footwork and hand-dance. (Hopefully) I'll write that node after I do some research on traditional Indian styles. My style however, comes naturally. I got this comment yesterday, "I figured out your hand-dancing - it's like each of your fingers are connected to strings, and people watching you are puppets." I replied "It used to be like that." Of course, magickal law states that when some energy is associated to another in belief, some of the related energy will carry on.

Anywayz, I ended up winning first prize - $(AUS) 100 for my greedy self. The b-boys came second - two of them went without the money so their mates could get $15 each. Third was my friend Aaron "Mong" Wilcox and his friend Marty. They got $10 each for dressing up in leisure suits and wigs, dancing to the Beegees' Staying Alive.

Yeah, Mong and Marty had balls, but I didn't realise quite how big they had to be until some dickhead tried to fight them just for dressing like that. "Wow," I thought, "what a fuckhead." Of course, Mong just told him to piss off.

I talked to that fuckhead later when I didn't realise who he was, then kept talking when I did realise:
"You don't talk to those guys do you?"
"Yeah, they're my mates."
"Don't talk to them - they're gay."
"How would you know if they were gay?"
"Look at how they're dressed - they're stupid. I punch this guy in the head a few times a day for being stupid." He pointed to his friend, a big guy, but he looked mild enough.
I asked his friend "So what do you think, man, is there anything wrong with gays?"
"Because... they're stupid."
The poor guy had probably been brainwashed by too many blows to the head.
"Anyway, I know these guys - they're not even gay."

So I walked off. People might think "Well, you can't expect too much maturity from 15/16 year olds." But it wouldn't surprise me to see people ten years older at the Clubhouse with the same attitude. People don't look at themselves enough, myself included. People don't realise that "We see things not as they are, but as we are." (Read this on - might be an old Chinese saying, otherwise it's a quote from Shi Yan Ming).

Sometimes I get into a mind-state like "Fuck 'em all." If I was on this train of thought then, I'd probably think "Fuck 'em all - the gays, the gay-haters, the gay-hater-haters." The last ones would have to be the stupidest - they see the cycle starting, but they don't stop it. Oh crap, I think I just said something a gay-hater-hater-hater would say...

Later that night, Billy says to me "Congratulations on your dance comp."

I said, "Yeah, it's alright - it's secured my ego... I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

I wonder where the fuck that chick Jade, the chick that I'm chasing, went...

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.