DAY 47: Halloween Party

It's 5:30pm, class has just ended. I have 3 hours to get home and finish my costume before Dewey's party. Before going home I stop at Walgreens to find clear red plastic for my goggles. None with the wrapping paper, office supplies, toys, or cleaning supplies. I find it in the candy aisle wrapped around a box of chocolates. After an hour of costume engineering, I run out of spraypaint and have to go out for more. By 8:30 the costume is done. Held together with thread, tape and safety pins. However, the paint is still wet so I set up the fan and wait another thirty minutes. At the party I meet Al Capone, Daft Punk, Weird Al, The Pot Cookie Monster, Steam Punks, Backyard Super Hero's, some Royal Tenenbaum's, Kim Jong the Illest, Scarface, Geisha, Flash Dance, Fat Biker Lady, Owen Wilson from Djarling Unlimited, Victorian Era Lady, and several other people. Drinks are poured, beer is drunk, cookies are eaten, and shots are taken. The night ends with people trying to tackle a giant inflatable snow globe. Kim Jong the Illest goes first and is catapulted across the yard remaining horizontal and spinning like a frisbee. Everyone giggles and laughs about how "this is not a good idea" while several other people line up to tempt the drunken injury gods. I get home around 3am and pass out just before 4am. Double Fuck! I have to leave for class at 8:30am

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DAY 46: Whoops! I didn't see that party there.

My plans for the evening are to go home and work on my costume. So far, I've only bought the ingredients and set up the sewing machine. Unfortunately, it looks like I'm going to a "Gilligan's Island" themed costume party so the costume will have to wait. I borrow a pair of off white pants from Diggie, put on a dark blue polo, and my navy blue yachtsman hat...poof I'm the Skipper. Diggie is dressed as the professor. You would think that there would be more main characters at a Gilligan party. I was one of two skippers and Diggie was the only professor. I didn't see a Ginger and there was only one Marianne and five Gilligan's. The Howell's were a no show (basically, we're all just riff raff in their eyes anyway), but there was a U.S.S Minnow, a palm tree, a ninja, and a pimp. There were also several guys with brand new baseball caps, diamond earrings, and baggy drawers who responded to "hello's" by making a kissy face, jerking their head up, and going "Uhhh!". After some smokey punch, we return to the "Smacura" and roll out. It's off to the "Party of the Ages" this is another party that I am accidentally going to. Upon arriving I see the host, Archie, running out the door in his tidy whitey's ala "Risky Business". The place is packed and I see several coworkers. I love arriving to a party late since it always takes less momentum for me to feel comfortable. I will blame this phenomenon on alcohol. Once you see that first dude fall while cackling and drooling you know your not, "That One Guy". We hang out for a couple of hours, have a few drinks, and then head out to the "Brite Spot" for a french dip of sobriety. I finally go to bed just before 4am. I have to get up at 8:30am for class. Fuck.

DAY 45: Horse Thieves

Tonight I went and saw my friend Alex play at The Spaceland. He's in a band called "Horse Thieves" which consists of him singing on guitar with a girl who plays piano. It sounded great. Unfortunately, I missed the first song since I didn't realize the smoking lounge was sound proof. I also met two more people that have never met anyone from Delaware. So far, out of the 40 people I have asked, there have only been two that have known any Delawarians. One of which was a Delawarian. When I asked her there were any other peeps from Delaware she said she did not. Something sinister is afoot.

DAY 44: Fart Shoes

I really like my converse slip ons. They're black with horizontal stripes. The only problem is they make fart noises when I walk. People can tell when I'm coming from the echo in the hall. It's like I strapped two whoopee cushions to my feet. Bbbbltttttt....Bbbbltttttt...Bbbblttttt.

DAY 43: Tobacco Torture

My youngest sister Charla is four years older than me. Growing up in my Nanny's duplex she would taunt and torture me. One Saturday afternoon, while snooping through our two older sisters bedroom we came across a container of "Skoal Bandits" (the less messy chewing tobacco that comes in little pouches). Her eyes told me everything. Screaming, I was almost out of the door before she pounced on me. I dragged her behind me as I crawled towards the bathroom. I knew if I could get there I'd be safe since the door had a lock. In front of the sink, she was finally able to pin me down. Prying my mouth open, she forced in a bandit, and covered my lips with both of her hands whispering into my ear, "If you swallow this you will die." I knew from elementary school that tobacco kills. Her statement was reasonable. It took me several minutes of struggling before I was free in that small amount of time I had swallowed the bandit juice over and over giving me a slight buzz and a stomach ache. My face was red and covered in a mixture of tears, snot, and tobacco spit. I pulled the dip out and flung it into the toilet. In my bedroom over the noise of my two roommates, the washer and the dryer, I could still hear Charla's giggle fit.

DAY 42: Rules

So this is me from the future (though the picture is from the 22nd). Though I try to write everyday, I don't always have time to transfer my writing from a notebook to Gingerbeard. I've been reviewing my entries and thinking about what it is I'm doing. I look at these and realize some days there is just nothing happening and the writing is boring. Incidents happen everyday, but many of these interesting incidents are embarrassing. I can't be completely honest because I like where I work and the people I know. Also, any event that takes place in my life currently is some how a result of my beard. Sometimes I will talk about my beard and the wonders that it causes and sometimes I won't. In the same way that the beard is a filter for alcohol it is also a filter for words.

DAY 41: Lil Evil

The first time I earned hell points I was 7-8 years old and I tricked a neighbor boy into tasting dog pee (It was either this incident or when I poured thumbtacks on the floor of my sister’s doorway, or perhaps when my Dad mistakenly spanked my sister instead of me for slamming the door on my other sisters hand). I think his name was Tim and he lived a couple of blocks away. The other neighborhood kids didn’t like him. They said he stole. I’d like to think they didn’t influence my villainy, but most likely they did. At this time I was living in Milwaukee, Oregon in a small house on Risley Drive. Our garage contained a car that no one drove, several large jugs of various liquids (I have no idea what were in these), stacks and stacks of newspapers, and a large assortment of tools. On this particular day there was a large mutt in there as well. I believe he belonged to the “Holy Roller’s” daughter that was taking care of me. Tim and I were playing hot wheels and babbling about various intellectual subjects; how come they didn’t play a Spider-Man segment for every episode of the Electric Company? Was the force real? If you jumped off from the highest branch of the tree across the street and you opened an umbrella would you float to the ground? It was during one of these discussions that a little yellow river appeared between us. “Is that dog pee?” Tim asked. I thought about it for a few seconds while the aroma wafted up to my nose. It smelled like apple juice. I responded, “No, it’s apple juice.”
“Nuh uh, it’s dog pee.”
“No, it’s apple juice. I think the dog knocked over one of the jugs. We make our own apple juice out here.” Tim’s eyes lit up with excitement. I could see the gears turning as he pictured my family picking apples and juicing them using the most advanced technology. “Really?” he said.
“Yes.” I said.
“I don’t think he knocked over a jug. I think its dog pee.”
“Well taste it.” I offered, using my most serious face. Tim stared at me looking for my adolescent “tell” in this high stakes game of poker. Content in believing me, he slowly dipped his finger into the small puddle that was quickly being absorbed by the concrete. He moved it back and forth coating the tip of his index. The time it took him to bring his hand to his mouth felt like the distance between the Fourth of July and Christmas. It was all worth it when he suckled on his finger and opened one eye larger than the other, pondering. “It’s doge pee.”
In hell the devil twiddled his fingers, laughing as my perfect zero turned into a three.