The other day I'd gotten onto the Metro just two seconds before the door closed, turned around, and watched a man force his way onto the train. The door closed on his outstretched arm and leg. He thrashed them around until the door opened again, then stepped forward. However, the door didn't much like him forcing it, so it closed again when he was halfway through. So, he thrashed around some more until it opened again; not as widely this time. Again, he didn't move fast enough, and the door caught him on the leg. So he hopped on one leg, thrashing the other one around, and almost fell flat on his face before the door opened a final time to release his leg.
He sat down and tried to pretend he hadn't made an ass out of himself, but the man standing next to me laughed out loud and said, "Man, I ain't tryin' to get killed to get on no damn train!" The guy who'd forced the doors (and really, looked like he was about twenty) spent the rest of the ride staring at the floor while the whole train laughed at him.
So, to bring you up to date about Nikki: We spent a lot of December pissed with him, because Dirk drove all the way over to Waldorf to pick him up for practice, only to have Nikki tell him that he couldn't go because he was Christmas shopping. That didn't sit well with any of us. Nikki also told Dirk that he should have called him to make sure that he was coming to practice – noooo....that's not the way it works, freak-boy. If we're giving your sorry ass a ride to practice, and you live way out in bumfuck with your brother, you call us to let us know there's a conflict. The automatic assumption should be that you're coming to practice.
He also didn't show up on Christmas eve, which he'd previously said fit in perfectly with his holiday plans. Luckily, he had the courtesy to call first. Then, on Christmas day, apparently while Dirk and I were in the shower together, Nikki called and told us that he'd moved back to DC and he was ready to immerse himself in the band again. We met up with him Sunday night, and, if you believe Nikki, his brother was pressuring him to avoid the band. I don't know if I believe him, but we'll move on from there. He has a lot of catching up to do. We're due in the Studio Jan 29th and he only has half the songs down perfect.
Right now he's living with his mom and her boyfriend Larry in DC. He doesn't have a job and he wonders why Larry doesn't want him to live with them. Musicians are flakes, but this one reminds me of our first lead singer. He has the same ability to piss people off.
We went to see the Andy Kauffman movie last night. I kept jamming my fingers in my ears whenever there were potentially embarrassing scenes – Dirk tried to stop me, but I snarled at him. I liked the movie well enough, setting aside my distaste for both Jim Carrey and Courtney Love. (As a side note, has anyone noticed the annoying trend of Courtney Love = Somebody Famous's Wife/Fuck Toy Who Dies or Wife/Fuck Toy of A Dead Famous Person?) I never gave two shits about Andy Kaufman before the movie, though, and I certainly don't give two shits about him now. Will I be a mostly-forgotten T.V. personality who dies, only to be resurrected into popularity after my death via a blockbuster movie? I think not.
But maybe people will want to know the true story. People are like that. They can't dig up enough dirt to satisfy them, so they just keep digging. Then it will come out that I was lying all these years and I'm really a man and nobody, not even my parents, knew it. Or not.
I'm in a strange mood today.
My supervisor has forgotten that I exist, again, so I've just been mucking around online and reading everyone's old entries. I'm not due to call Dirk for half an hour, and my life is sadly lacking in angst of any kind. Perhaps I should revive old feuds or begin new ones. I could just start insulting all the most popular diarists and see if I could get a hate campaign going for me. Just like being the bad guy in wrestling is a good career move, being a bad guy in the online journal scene could get this site a lot of hits. But that's too much effort. Oh well.
My friend Amy sent me a list of stuff we'll need when we move out. I'm using it to check off stuff I've already got.
Since I'm doing all this entertaining writing for you, the least you could do is entertain me a little bit. What do you think about butt-sex? (For the confused, butt sex = anal sex) Write your answers in the guestbook, don't e-mail me with them. Wax poetic. Wax explicit. Whatever. Just don't include me in your butt-sex writings.
