Here it is. The entire month of March for the year 2001. Don't you just feel like a part of my life? Doesn't it make you all warm & fuzzy inside to know that I'm sharing a part of myself with you? I know it does. Read on, starting from the bottom.
March 29th, 2001: Part I: The Introductions and Plan-Making
I meet people in the weirdest ways. Or more specifically, I flirt with people in the weirdest ways. My newest strategy is the fake name. (Not mine, mind you.) The idea is to approach someone I don't know, refer to him with a name that I imagine doesn't actually belong to him, and continue calling him that name until he just can't help but like me. And it works, oddly. The first time I discovered how effective this method is was with a guy named Ryan. I was at COSI one day a few months ago, and as I was walking through the North hallway near I/O, I happened upon my friend Jason with another COSI employee, whom I didn't know. So, as I stopped to talk, I put my arms around them and said, "Jason. Bob." They both looked at me quizzically, of course, and when Ryan asked why I had called him that, I said, "Well, that is your name, isn't it?" He informed me that it wasn't, in fact, but I didn't give him a chance to tell me his real name. Well, Ryan's office happened to be up in Little Kidspace at the time, so I had to let him in through the LKS gates each time he needed to get back to it. This worked out quite nicely, as every time he came or went, I would call him Bob and ask him how his day was going, etc. And soon, this made Ryan love me. He went from giving me weird looks to stopping to chat for a moment to talking to me for hours about his girlfriend's mom thinking that he's a male prostitute. Now, I wasn't really attracted to Ryan/Bob at this point, because while he doesn't look older than me, Ryan seems mature enough to be, so I assumed that he was nearing his 30's. Ryan is just very, very easy to talk to. He's an exhibits tech, so he wanders around COSI all day with all of his tools, fixing whatnot. After we got to know each other a bit more, he started wandering around the Guest Services desk a lot more, and we developed this staring thing where he walks by the desk slowly enough that I notice him and look up, but instead of stopping, he just walks by smiling and continues to look back at me until he's out of sight, which in turn makes me smile. And just as this was getting all cute and high school-like (which all of my relationships will always be), I then found out something disturbing about Ryan. I was up in Secrets of Aging at work one day. I was watching a movie about Alzheimer's, in fact, when Ryan came waltzing along, pretending to fix something or other. He stopped to talk to me, of course, and ended up telling me all about the problems that he had with his parents growing up, how they would buy everything for his sister, while he was expected to provide for himself. He added that he now makes more money at his age than his parents do at theirs, so I took that opportunity to ask how old he is. And dang it, he's 19. Nineteen! Here I am, dancing around, thinking that he's far too old for me, when all along, there he is, being my age. But Ryan's all girlfriended, by a high school senior, no less, so darn it, even though he doesn't drink and is a flaming Christian and knows where my hometown is (which is the ultimate turn-on, let me tell you), I'm making myself leave him alone. I'm so, so good.
And then there's Scott. I was sitting up at the Little Kidspace desk one day (it all happens in LKS, yes?), when he walked through from Ryan's office. I had never seen him before, so Sarah from LKS and I admired him for a moment as he walked over the bridge toward Life. Sarah and I discussed what we imagined his name to be, and we chose Jeremy, so later, when I was alone and Scott came back, I stopped him at the LKS gate and asked if his name was such. He was horribly offended by this, and I had no idea why until he informed me that there's another exhibits tech named Jeremy who is less-than-desirable. There's just something about Scott that makes me not want to look at him like a piece of meat (to use a bad cliché). Where Ryan is thin, thin, thin, Scott is the perfect mix of stocky and . . . something really good. He actually reminds me of the lead singer of 3 Doors Down - that little boy cute with a bit o' rugged male mixed in. Just looking at Scott, you know that he's just got a really kind soul. I rarely saw him up in LKS after that first day, but he walked by the desk downstairs constantly, so I would simply say "Jeremy" and wait for him to correct me. He never stopped to talk, so I kind of assumed that he either wasn't interested or thought himself better than me. But soon he started to be the one making the effort. It went from me saying the incorrect name and him saying the correct one to him walking by, me looking up, and him saying "Scott" without even being prompted. The first time I can remember really realising that he was beginning to be affected by my wily charms was when Scott walked by one evening carrying a guitar from an arcade game that had broken, and when I told him that guitar-playing men turned me on, he did his best rock star stance, put on an orgasm face, and pretended to play for a moment before passing by as he always did. But just before he passed, he flashed me this amazing smile. Scott's smile is like inebriation personified. Not to compare every man I love to Adam, but Scott's smile makes me feel like Adam's does. It's so warm and inviting; it lights up his entire face; it makes his eyes crinkle up and sparkle; he turns all pink and . . . ahhh. It's like Peanut Butter M & M's and Revlon Liquid Quick Dry nail polish and Smucker's Jelly Beans all rolled into one. (And you know how I feel about those things.) Exhibits techs are known to travel in packs, so it seemed natural when he and Ryan showed up together during the lovely little OSU night at COSI in February. That was the first night that I actually had a conversation with Scott, and a week later, we found ourselves in the middle of a talk talk. Ryan and Scott always worked together during Camp-Ins, Friday or Saturday nights when Girl and Boy Scouts come and spend the night inside COSI. However, recently, Ryan was allowed off on those nights, so Scott was left alone, wandering the halls of COSI by himself. I stopped him and asked how he was handling himself, and as he was terribly bored, I invited him back behind the desk with me. (Yeah, desk behindage = sex.) So, since there was next-to-nothing to do, we just sat and talked - about sex, about drugs, about rock 'n' roll. Actually, we talked about two of the three. Scott doesn't exactly know where he stands on music, which drives me insane. I'm so music-y. I know exactly what I like, and when someone asks me my favourite bands, I have an immediate answer. Scott, however, gave me the usual wimpy "I like everything". So, I had to coax him a bit . . . okay, a lot . . . but we finally settled on 3 Doors Down, which told me little to nothing. So, assuming that I know his type, I asked him about Bush and rock-y bands like that, which he happens to dig. So, while Chicago Mike will be disappointed, Ohio Katie is satisfied. We then moved to the drugs, which I still don't know a whole lot about. I do know that he doesn't smoke, which is the only thing that I'm really concerning myself with. However, Scott's an occasional drinker and can't quite be led to Christianity, which I noticed excited Tracey when I informed her of it. And he just does the cutest things to let me know that he notices me. Like last week, I was going up to Gadgets to clear the building as we were closing, and as I got to the top of the stairs, I looked down both hallways and saw that no one was in them. I started walking, and when I got about halfway to Gadgets, I heard someone say, "Psst!" I was actually a little freaked out by this, seeing as it was late at night and knowing that no one had been in the halls a moment ago, and turning around to find absolutely no one behind me didn't help things. But I stood still for a moment and looked around, and then Scott's head peeked around the corner of the stairwell as he laughed at me. He had seen me coming up the stairs at Little Kidspace and had followed me down the hallway, the bugger. (Yes, bugger.) Scott's fun, because he plays little games with me like I do with other people. For instance, I was walking down a hallway at COSI last week sometime, and Scott was coming toward me with another exhibits tech. I stopped a few feet ahead of them and said to Scott, "You just walked by me and didn't stop to talk," as he had done such a few minutes before. He continued past me and said, "And now I'm doing it again," with a mischievous grin. He does it in this really dirty, flirty way that you don't expect from him, which is such a total turn-on.
So, for a couple of weeks now, Laura and I have been trying to plan a date with Mike the Volunteer Team Leader. Finally, on Friday afternoon, he asked me if I was doing anything that weekend, requested my number, and gave me his. I asked him if he wanted to go bowling with Laura and me, and while he had invited me to a party with him on that same night, he agreed to forego the party until after the bowling. My supervisor was watching all of the plan-making goings-on with disapproval, so Mike and I parted ways and agreed to finish later. Laura and I discussed later and chose to leave straight from work for Schmidt's for macaroni that Laura can only describe as "orgasmic". She threatened to get the Saturday night buffet and eat four plates of the stuff, so I was all ready to see that, obviously. So, I was at COSI to work Camp-In that night, and Mike hung around until 9 or 10, though he was supposed to be off work at 5. At one point, I was talking to Mike at the Guest Services desk, and Scott came over to see what was going on. While we were all standing there, someone came over to the desk and dropped off a disposable camera that a camper had lost, so I spent the next 10 minutes photographing Scott, Mike the VTL, and the other Mike whom I was working with in various stages of undress. I envy the little girl who came to pick the camera up later that night, whomever she may be. All of the nakedness somehow led us to talking about where each of us lives (for would-be orgies, no doubt), so we whipped out a Columbus map and began furiously pointing. Mike the VTL lives with his parents in Columbus, as Laura and I discovered back in the day of the Pedro the Lion concert. Scott, however, lives in an apartment alone in Gahanna, which is a bit Northeast of where I live. "Alone!?" I exclaimed/asked. And when Scott explained that he moved here to go to school and didn't know anyone at the time, I considered inviting myself to live with him but thought it better to wait until Mike left as to not ruin any chance of getting some from him before the night was over. So, finally, as all of this was going on, I said nonchalantly, "Why don't you come bowling with us tomorrow night, Scotty?" He explained that he had worked with a guy at Best Buy when he first came to Columbus and was supposed to be an usher at the guy's wedding Saturday afternoon but that he would probably be back home by the time the bowling alley opened at 9:30. So, after he and Mike went off on a tangent about being mutual friends with that guy with a mention that Scott's best friend lives in the dorm right next to mine mixed in, they departed.
Bob/Ryan randomly came in at some point, though we all know now that Bob's off work on Fridays, but he had just been out with his girlfriend, and she had blown him off to go to a party halfway through their time together, so he just wanted to stop by and complain about it to me. He ended up sitting with me for an hour or so, during which time his girlfriend called him a total of 5 times, left him 3 voicemails, and paged him twice, all of which he totally ignored. I invited him to do some bowling with us to forget about the high school harlot, and Bob willingly accepted. He then radioed Scott using my walkie, and Scott asked what the heck he was doing there, so Bob took off to the workshop so that they could talk . . . about me, most decidedly. Then, a bit later, Mike came over to the desk and informed me that he was going to find a place that opened for bowling earlier so that we wouldn't have to skip his party. He found a place in a skanky part of town that I refused to go to, but he said that he couldn't just up and skip his party, so I told him to skip the bowling instead. He left without making a decision, so I called Laura at around 11, woke her up unknowingly, and asked if she would be angry with me if I allowed Mike to get away. She said, "I'm not going for him. I'm going for you." Ha. Imagine my surprise. I thought that she was so gung-ho about hanging out with me because she knew that Mike would be there, when in all actuality, she just wanted to be with me . . . in a non-lesbian sort of way. So, finally, at the end of the night, I radioed Scott and told him to make a trip to the desk when he had the chance. He and Bob both came, and after we discussed our plans for a moment, Scott just out and asked me if I had a cell phone and wrote down his pager and cell phone numbers for me; Ryan followed suit, naturally. Katie likes going home with the numbers of three different men. Yes, she does.
Part II: The Carrying Out of the Plans
Well, Saturday arrived, and Laura and I happened to be working together for the first time in years, so we were like giddy, little schoolgirls all day. Actually, Laura's never been giddy in her life, but if she was going to be giddy, she would have been on Saturday. Mike had finally decided that we could just go to the party after bowling, so Laura and I went to the mall during lunch to get her a cute shirt, as she was worried that I was going to look better than she was. However, Laura found nothing, so I tried to console her by telling her than I would purposely look bad, which we all know is pretty much impossible, don't we? Then, tragedy struck. Laura and I were in Little Kidspace when Ryan/Bob came up with bad, bad news. It seemed that his dog became deathly ill overnight and was just coming out of surgery, so while he needed to get back to the vet, Ryan wanted to let me know that he wouldn't be able to go out with us that night. I attempted to talk him out of caring about his dog, but it seems that Ryan's husky is actually more important to him than I am. Ouch. So, we were down one, but Mike, Laura, and I prepared to leave COSI at around 5:30. I thought I looked pretty amazing, but Laura mocked my choice of shoes and pants, saying, "You think you can bowl in those?" Let's just assume that she was jealous and let that be that. On the drive to Schmidt's, Laura discovered that Mike is only 21, whereas she imagined him to be 25. She then hit herself for not having friends her own age but consoled me by saying that I'm the most mature 19 year-old she knows. She asked me if I would be drinking at the bowling alley, as she complained that she couldn't bowl properly without a bit of a buzz. I told her that I couldn't see it happening, but she was solaced in knowing that Scott would. Laura had never met Scott, you see, so she was only going on the information that I was feeding to her bit-by-bit. While at Schmidt's, Laura only ate two plates of macaroni, which thoroughly disappointed me, but our waiter was all over me, so that made up for it. Laura also questioned Mike about his relationship with his pseudo-girlfriend. See, apparently, Mike is dating a girl named Miriam, but he's never with her. He's either at Bernie's watching bands, out with Laura and me, or frolicking around COSI. We asked what her family's like, and he informed us that he's never met her dad, because he's nowhere to be found. We inquired as to whether he's dead or divorced, but Mike has no idea. We were totally shocked, and I told them that I always make sure that I mention my mom's death pretty early out so that it doesn't come as a surprise later. Mike hadn't known about my momlessness, and neither did I have any idea that he's adopted. So, with all of this new information floating about, we sat chewing our cud and considering until Mike said, "So, your mom's dead; is that why you're a vegetarian?" So blunt. So funny. We had a good laugh, because luckily, Mom isn't really a touchy subject with me, and then, Mike asked, "So, when's your boy joining us?" "My boy?" I inquired. He was speaking of Scott, of course, but I think he knew very well that Scott and I are only in the lustily flirting stage, so I can only guess that he was feeling me out . . . not literally. There was then a heated discussion about people whom Mike dislikes at work over creme puffs until we realised that we were going to be quite late for our movie, upon which we exited into the black night.
The three of us soon realised that the movie was out of the question, but Mike was still in his COSI garb, so as we made our way to his house for some changing action, I called "my boy" to tell him what the deal was. Scott on the phone is like 3-way light bulbs and Gap Lipshine in grape jelly, like Zebra Cakes and dry erase markers. I could just picture him lounging on the couch of his Gahanna apartment in his rental tux from the wedding, his shiny black shoes thrown in a corner somewhere, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his hair in a bit of disarray. I failed to realise that he had probably taken off the tux hours before and that his apartment isn't quite as well furnished as I was imagining. I asked him if he was prepared to fight Mike for my love by means of bowling, and while he was, he didn't know that Mike has his very own bowling shoes. I told him that he might want to think about venturing to the store to buy himself a pair as to not allow Mike to show him up, but strangely, he thought it unnecessary. We deliberated on whether or not his rental tux shoes would work out, and I finally came to the conclusion that tuxes are dang hot and advised Scott to wear the entire thing to the bowling alley. He declined. I gave him to Mike for a moment to receive some directions, and then Mike handed him back like a special, little talking gift just for me.
All during the ride to the Columbus Square Bowling Palace (whoo!), I was thinking about what Scott would be wearing. I knew what Ryan would have been wearing had he come with us. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. And I despise Tommy Hilfiger. I knew what Mike would be changing into - black pants or dark blue jeans rolled up at the cuffs, some form of a black tee shirt, and a black hooded sweatshirt. I had no idea about Scott, though. From his hair and his build and his attitude, I couldn't see him in tee shirts and jeans, but I couldn't picture him in J. Crew, either. I had been talking about the Iron Pony all night, but neither Mike nor Laura thought that it actually existed, so when they saw the store as we entered the parking lot, I pointed it out and told them that I was going to ask Scott to take a ride on my iron pony, as if that meant something dirty. So, as soon as we arrived at the Palace, Laura and I took a little journey to the restroom, and as we exited, Mike came walking toward us with Scott in tow. I didn't notice him looking me over as I did every dirty, old man in the place, but I figured that he's too polite to be that type. He didn't really say much but just sort of stood there and looked at me as if I was supposed to say something, which I did . . . to Mike. After we had picked out our balls and Mike had given his a good washing, Scott noticed that all of the people from the wedding party were there, as was one of our co-workers. Greetings and jealous looks were exchanged, and then Scott led me to a tabled area to find a seat, where he gave me an ashtray and set it up as a ball-holder for me while we waited for our lane. When Laura sat down, she asked if she could buy me a drink, and I declined, of course, and knowing that Mike wasn't about to drink, she turned to Scott, who looked at me as if searching for an answer and informed her that he's not allowed to drink, only being 20 and all. She became exasperated and threatened to leave us running around without our diapers, so Scott went over to the bar with her to get something. Laura came back with a Mike's Hard Lemonade, Scott with a Bud Light, and Laura started things off badly by offering me a sip. I took it from her and smelled it, and she told me not to tease her like that, so darn it, I went and took a drink. And another. And another. I don't know why I did it. I'm not a drinker. I'm done thinking that it's cool. Yet, it happened all the same. And the thing is, I really didn't regret it or even feel bad about it . . . I don't even know that I do right now. I just want to know my motivation. I think I was caught between making Laura comfortable and making Scott like me and making Mike comfortable and sticking to my beliefs. So, what did I do? Of course. I made everything worse by admitting that I have a weakness for Jim Beam and all things bourbon (mostly just the smell, mind you), to which Scott made a sour lemon face as he told me that he hates bourbon, especially bourbon whiskey. That made me stop and contemplate whether I had just said that in the first place to impress him, though it's quite apparent that I've won him over already. To paraphrase a bit o' Labyrinth - darn you, Scott. And darn me, too.
To entertain us for the next hour, Laura made us play a "game" where we went around the table and asked one question of the group. There was the usual college major question, the "how many kids do you want?" question, the aspirations question, and a load of others that led to my finding out that Scott's some random computer major, that he wants two kids, that his favourite food is his mom's lasagna (with ricotta cheese, I might add), etc. Every time it was Scott's turn to ask a question, he would be totally engrossed in me, so he would say, "Why's everyone staring at me!?", not realising that I was the only one staring and that I was simply waiting. He answered all of his questions toward me, which somehow made me feel good. I think I've been feeling a bit like the girl described in the American Hi-Fi song Flavor of the Weak lately - "and he's got posters on the wall/of all the girls he wished she was/and he's everything to her . . . and he's got pictures on the wall/of all the girls he's loved before/and she knows all his favorite songs". I feel like I'm the one who cares, who's doing all of the work to keep things going in my relationships with men. But I don't feel that way with Scott. Granted, I was the one who invited him to go out with me, but I usually am the one to make the first move, because people can never tell if I'm actually interested or if I'm just playing games to amuse myself. Well, after the entire wedding party walked by and hugged Scott, we finally got a lane right beside them and proceeded to don our fabulously white trash bowling shoes. It was then that I finally got a good look at what Scott was wearing. Laura took a moment to tell me that he's "yummy", which I appreciated. Actually, when he had gotten up from the table earlier to check on our lane, she told me that she hoped that everyone thought that she was with Scott and I was with Mike, which I was okay with, as Mike isn't too shabby, either, if you get my drift. Getting back to Scott's clothes, though - they were exactly what I would have imagined him to wear. I first noticed his shoes, which were standard brown dress shoes, and while "standard brown dress shoes" don't sound like anything to be proud of, they were just enough to let me know that he cares about his appearance . . . or impressing me. He also had on khakis and a blue knit shirt that he had tucked in. That's right; tucked in. Ahh, the little things that make me happy.
The bowling was quite fun for me (though I suck like a vacuum at it), because I felt like Mike and Scott were both vying for my attention the entire time. Scott was having a rather off game and every time that his ball hooked too far left (which was every time, actually), he would turn around, look at me, and make some excuse about Mike's ball being slicker than his or his finger holes being too small. And every time that Mike threw a strike (which was every time, actually), he would grin at me proudly while Scott winced. I think Scott had seriously taken that "fighting for my love by means of bowling" thing seriously. At one point, the manager of the alley came over the loudspeaker and said that a certain license plate number had left its car lights on, and we had a chuckle at the poor soul's expense until Scott stopped and said, "Oh, that's me." He said that he was going to wait until the end of our first game to turn them off, as he knew that they were actually only his interior lights, so I began picturing myself following him out for a little ride on the iron pony, if you will. However, Scott got a little antsy and ran out to turn them off in the middle of the game, so the pony wasn't ridden. At one point after Mike suggested that the little ribbons hanging from the sleeves of my shirt clearly meant that I have a heroin problem and need a tourniquet with me at all times, Scott and I were sitting, picking apart all of the guys in his division at work, we got on the topic of Ryan, and Scott let me in on the fact that he's so shy that he would have never had the courage to get to know me and get comfortable with me had Ryan not brought him along to talk to me every day. I was astonished at my lack of observational skills. So that's why Scott had seemed distant and disinterested at first. That's why he's young and gorgeous and running around without a woman to call his own. Of course. So, after two games of bowling (one of which Scott won, one of which Mike won, one of which I managed to not come in last at), we decided to kiss the bowling alley good-bye and move on. As Mike, Laura, and I made our way to Laura's car and Scott headed to his, I suddenly remembered my promise and shouted across the parking lot, "Hey, Scott! Looks like the Iron Pony's still open. Wanna take a ride with me?" He laughed, shouted back, "Sure!", and ride we did.
Also March 20th, 2001: And the continuance comes . . . A couple of weeks ago, Mike the Volunteer Team Leader informed me that The Donnas were coming to The Newport Music Hall on the 19th, which happened to be last night. Now, I dig The Donnas and all, but I probably wouldn't have been too inclined to go had he not told me that I should come. And knowing that Laura would be angry at me if I didn't invite her along, I called her up at work one day and asked her to come with me. Later that day, then, I saw Mike and asked, "So, are you going to The Donnas show?" He confirmed that he was, and I pretended as if I was all surprised and impressed, because well, games are fun for me.
However, last night at 5:00, I started having my doubts about going. Mike told me that he was planning on bringing some friends along with him, which meant that there wouldn't be much time to spend with him. I started thinking of all of the things that I should be doing at home and the fact that I've only been home long enough to go to dinner with my family once since I've been on Spring Break. Laura called me at 6:15, though, and she was all ready to go, and since I was the one who had done the inviting, I didn't think that I could back out. I really wanted to not go, but I also felt like something was compelling me to get myself there. I couldn't figure out what was going to happen last night, but it was obviously something that I needed to be there for. So, at 6:45, I left my house and drove to Columbus, feeling a little nervous all the while. When I pulled into the parking garage, a group of people a little younger than me got out of their little car, and it was quite obvious that they were going to the same place that I was. I love how people never wear normal clothes to concerts. I feel like I do, but most of my friends get all whored-up when we go to see bands. I was supposed to meet Laura at 7:30, and I was a little late, so I hurried out of the parking lot, and just as I was getting ready to cross the street to The Newport, Laura sped past me and honked her horn. I knew that I had some time to kill, so I walked slowly, and just as I neared the door, I noticed that a couple of homeless guys were harassing concert-goers, so I tried to keep my distance, but the men spotted me and told me that they would keep me safe until my Romeo showed up. That was about the last thing that I wanted, but I couldn't be rude to them, so I thanked them, which was a bad, bad idea. They crowded around me and introduced me to their friend Little Smelly, who very much deserved his name. Just then, Laura arrived, so I broke away and asked her to never leave me alone again.
Laura had never been to The Newport, so she was impressed by the size but unimpressed by the bathrooms as we found ourselves a spot in the back. As we were looking around for Mike, he and his friend Tim spotted us on their way in and waved. Tim goes to OSU but has an internship in Kentucky making gas or something such as that, which he had told me at the Pedro the Lion show, but I must have totally not been paying attention to him that night, because I had no recollection of him being an OSU kid. So, we talked and gossiped and laughed until Mooney Suzuki came on. Mike, Tim, and Laura were leaning against a carpeted wall, but there was a guy leaning right next to Laura, allowing me no wall to call my own. I turned to the guy with my sweetest smile and asked him for a little wall. Mooney Suzuki was incredibly loud, so he smiled back and leaned in to ask me to repeat myself. I think that he thought that I was coming on to him or something, so his smile disappeared when he realised that I was just asking him to get away from me. He moved far down the wall, so I pulled him back closer so that he didn't feel like an outcast, as he was apparently there all alone. Just then, I happened to look over at the stairs that Tim was standing by, and a bearded man in a denim jacket came down them, looked around, and went down some stairs to the center of the room. I jumped around a little and asked Mike if it was Adam, my Adam, Adam who went to see Modest Mouse with me. Mike couldn't see the guy in the crowd, so I told him that I would check it out and be back. Of COURSE he was there. I should have ASSUMED that he would be there. He must have been the reason that I felt like I should go to the concert. I came up behind him and simply said, "Adam." He couldn't have heard me with all of the noise, but he must have felt me behind him, because he turned around and said, "Hey!" with a look of surprise. I asked him if he wanted to come and stand with us if he was all alone, so I turned around to lead him over to our wall and noticed that Mike had followed me over, which bothered me, for some reason. He attacked Adam and started talking to him, so Adam ended up standing beside Mike rather than me, which was enough for me to lose all attraction to Mike. Yeah, okay. I'm lying.
Needless to say, Mooney Suzuki was bad. I'm generally pretty accepting of bad bands, but in order to be considered a band, I think one must play music rather than talk about weed all night. I will give them credit for being cool rock star-wannabes, though. At the end of their set, the lead guitarist climbed onto the speakers and wailed away while the singer had spasms on the stage floor. Then, noticing that the lead guitarist was being way cooler than himself, the singer climbed onto the other set of speakers and dueled with the guitarist. They were so old, though, that they couldn't jump from the speakers for fear of breaking themselves, so they had to sit down on the speakers and slowly slide down to the floor to end things out. It was rather sad but thoroughly amusing. When their set was done, Laura turned to me and asked how long Adam has been bearded, so while we immersed ourselves in that topic, Adam engaged himself in conversation with Tim and Mike, which drove me crazy, of course. When they were done talking, Adam came over to me and announced that he was going to say hi to some of his friends. I didn't want him to leave us, but I didn't know how to tell him that, so I simply said, "Oh, I see how it is." He smiled, but he walked away nonetheless, so Mike, Tim, Laura, and I went to find some seats along the side to wait for Bratmobile. I attempted to sit on Tim's lap, but that didn't work out, so we talked about how our parents met after that, which seems like a weird topic of conversation for a bad punk concert. When I mentioned that my parents had met in my hometown, Tim actually knew about my high school and my town and whatnot, which was whoa, exciting. Laura asked me if I wanted her to buy me a drink, but I told her that I wasn't interested, especially since non-drinking Mike was sitting right there. She told me that he thought that she was drinking a Coke, which I didn't believe, but I didn't want anything nonetheless. Confirming Laura's suspicions, a few minutes later, Mike asked Laura how much her Coke had cost. Chalk one up for Laura.
I didn't care much for Bratmobile, either. I don't think it's actually the music that I minded; I think it's the fact that a chick was singing (or talking, rather). I love The Ramones; I love The Clash. I just can't seem to get into punk-y chick bands. I have to give credit to the singer for having herself some fun, though. However, she had just bought some pink tights at the local Urban Outfitters, and she took them and her shoes off halfway through the set and danced around barefoot, which made me lose some respect for her. Also, the keyboardist was wearing an aerobics leotard that said "COCO" over her blue tights, which was just plain horrifying. So, naturally, when they told us that they only had one song left, Tim clapped, whereupon I slapped him. After Bratmobile's set, I spotted Adam with his friend with the multicoloured hair, and Mike caught me staring, so he and Tim got up and asked if we wanted to go to the center for a better view of The Donnas. I wasn't interested in getting crushed in the mosh-like action that was going on, so Laura and just hung out on the side and talked. We decided that Tim is much more do-able than Mike, but there's something about Mike that just keeps drawing us in. Same with Adam. With Mike, it must be his height. I just can't resist the tall men, you know. But Adam doesn't have the height, so I just can't put my finger on his attractiveness. It could be his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. I wonder . . .
So, The Donnas were actually good. I wish I could decide if they're good girls pretending to be bad or if they're actually just bad girls. They have their songs about wanting to French kiss the guys whom they want rather than having sex with them, but they also have their air freshener-huffing and their cheeba-smoking songs. Donna F (or The BIG Donna, as I lovingly refer to her) is just plain scary, I have to say. She was wearing a shirt last night that said EAT A DICK, which would have been cool if it would have said EAT MY DICK, but it didn't, so she loses her cool points. Anyway, she made us scream "Eat a dick!" over and over, and I think that's where I lost Laura. Get Rid of That Girl was right on, though, so that made up for The BIG Donna's weirdness. She seemed totally insecure up on stage, which made me happy, as she should be insecure with the clothes that she wears. Donna A gave us the finger about 50 times last night, which I applaud her for, since people were throwing bottled water and whatnot at them. They're such little girls, though. I'm so jealous. They're only two years older than I am, and there they are, onstage with their hoochie clothing and make-up, singing (or talking, rather) about crushes and boyfriends and other such high school topics. So, hooray for The Donnas.
When the concert was nearing its end and Mike, Tim, Laura, and I decided to go bowling, Adam came walking up the stairs nearest to us to leave. He stopped in front of me for a moment, and I said nothing but a good-bye, to which he replied the same. Then, he just stood there for a second, looked at me, and then turned to go. I wish I knew what his agenda is. I mean, he's obviously not good enough for me, what with his drinking and smoking and all, but dang it, there's this unspoken thing between us, invisible and electric, that I just wish would do something with itself. Maybe he looks at everyone that way and I just want it to be something that he reserves only for me. Ahh, the wonder . . .
March 20th, 2001: Well, I'm on Spring Break. This, of course, involves living at home, as my lovely dorm went and shut itself down for the week. I worked on Friday night, so even though my last exam was on Wednesday afternoon, I stuck around Columbus until the last moment that I could, which meant that I was totally alone in my suite for a day and a half. It was strange. And wonderful. And creepy. And relaxing. I'm home now, though. I'm finally dealing with my house without Mom now, nearly a year after her death. It used to be that I couldn't walk through my living room alone at night, because I could remember nothing but her lifeless body laying there on her hospital bed the afternoon that she died, but I don't get that so much anymore. Now I see all of the erecting of the Christmas tree, all of the eating of the birthday cakes, all of the days that she stayed home and took care of me while I pretended to be sick. So, between that and my fabulous new showerhead (rivals even the euphoric one in my dorm), home is giving me a good feeling. I haven't had much of it, though, as I've been working and playing all weekend.
Yesterday at work, there was time with Everett. Everett started at COSI in the middle of last Summer, and I more or less raped him on his first day. He's Asian, so he's automatically beautiful, and everything about him grabbed me when I first laid eyes on him. I talked to him for YEARS that first day, but Everett and I work in different areas of COSI, and he's not the type of guy to take the initiative to seek out a girl, so I only see him when I rove the building and when he's running the Highwire Unicycle. Except that's not exactly true anymore. See, the Guest Services desk used to be in front of the Unicycle, so Everett and I would wave at each other or STARE at each other each time that he was up there helping little children to pedal across the cable that is the Highwire. However, on Tuesday, our desk got itself moved to the wall right under the Unicycle, so we no longer have any sort of Highwire contact. Well, yesterday, I was roving around Ocean, talking to Jason, when I ran into Everett. I sent Jason off so that Everett and I could lean against a faux rock and attempted to make up for lost eye sex. He told me about wanting to get home to his dog (who, incidentally, is named Vega (but not after Suzanne Vega)), and when he mentioned the Vega thing, which led to the talk of Suzanne Vega and others, I learned that his favourite music genre is jazz, because he used to be very good at jazz trombone. I was impressed and asked if he played violin, as my Asian friend Dave plays violin, and I like to stereotype people whenever I can. When he inquired as to why I would ask such a thing and I explained the Asian connection, he said without a moment's hesitation, "How do you know that I'm Asian?" He made no indication that he was kidding, and I didn't want to offend the father of my lovely half-Asian children, so I tried to play it off and said, "Well, aren't you?" I couldn't think of anything else to say, but I've been wondering for months what exactly he is, and I didn't want my chance to escape me. He avoided the question and went back to talk of violin, not actually telling me whether he played or not. When I finally asked, "So do you play or not?", he said, "It's hard to find an Asian who hasn't played violin or piano at some point in his life." He then proceeded to tell me that his mom is Korean and his dad is American, which leaves me with quarter-Asian children, something that I'll be just fine with. Everett then told me his Korean name, which I could never pronounce, let alone spell, but whoa, is the thought of having a Korean name a turn-on. And when our conversation was cut short by his having to go home, I got to touch his hair for no apparent reason. I'm all about the Asian hair. Hot, hot, hot.
Last night, there was Tracey. Tracey and I had a little trip to Chicago planned for Break that didn't work out and a trip to Cincinnati to visit my friend Joshua that had to be cancelled, so now we're just heading to the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland for the day on Wednesday. I called her last night after work to get some bugs out of our plans, and we ended up going out to Damon's for some trivia action, just as we did in the olden days of last Summer. In fact, it was very much Summer-esque, the only difference being the things we talked about. I still talked about work, but I talked about different people. We both still talked about college, but now it's the things we're doing rather than the things we plan to do. She had peanut butter pie. I had potato skins. I actually won one of the rounds of trivia, so we left after that and went to rent This is Spinal Tap, which we've thought about getting on 700 separate occasions but have failed to. We played some euchre with the Gladmachine and the Dadmaster (Tracey's parents, of course) for a while and then started in on the movie, which I promptly fell asleep to. We woke up this afternoon at 12:30 and finished it, and I totally understand now why it's so well-loved. We had some good bed time until 3:00, then. I don't think I'll ever find someone who's as good in bed as Tracey is, and I mean that in a totally non-sexual way, of course, though I want you to think otherwise. Tracey and I do lots of kicking and throwing each other off of the bed (okay, it's mostly me doing the throwing) that I don't do while in bed with other people. I remember when I first started sleeping with her (once again, not in that way) how weird I thought we were, but now I've grown so accustomed to it that I can't imagine how other people are going through life without fun bed time. Tracey's getting a big head about all of the men who she thinks are in love with her, though, so that spoiled some of our fun. I seriously think that it's the only thing that she thinks about now.
Look for some continuance tomorrow.
March 17th, 2001: A little bit o' news for you:
And in a related incident:
I will make one of these men mine. Oh, yes. I will.
March 14th, 2001: One-Sided Conversation of the Day:
So, here's something unlike me. Well, the idea of it is very much me, but the actual follow-through is very not me. In case no one's noticed yet, I worship men. I don't have a type. Long-haired, short-haired, blue-eyed, brown-eyed, fat, thin - they're all beautiful to me. So, it's no surprise that I worshipped a man in my math recitation this quarter. I actually didn't know that HE was in my math recitation for quite a while, since I made myself sit in the front in an attempt to learn to concentrate. However, I went to seek help from my teacher's assistant one day after class, and while I waited for him to finish with another student, HE came over to compare answers with me and to see if HE could help me out. I had never seen HIM before, but wow, was HE beautiful. HE was wearing one of those gray knit hats that thieves always wear in movies, and HE was unshaven, and HE smelled like Spring rain and baby powder and tangerines and chocolate and everything that I love all scooped up and smooshed together and spread on HIM like butter. HE explained to me trigonometric identities and personal identity and the meaning of life in a mere five minutes. Amazing, HE was. During math recitation a few days later, HE came in and sat down. Halfway through the quarter, and I had just taken the time to notice that I spent every Tuesday and Thursday in HIS omniscient presence. I tried to not look at HIM. And HE didn't look at me at all, but I attribute that to the fact that I always sit and talk with two other guys and a girl in my little corner of the room, and HE was obviously always in awe of my ability to be adored by so many when I'm clearly the only one who adores HIM. I ran into HIM at my TA's office again while turning in some homework late one day, and HE was wearing cherry-red shoes. I need not mention more about that, yes?
So, last night was our final exam. I didn't see HIM come in, but about two minutes into the exam, I saw HIM off to my right and up a few rows. It wasn't good for me, because even after I dealt with the fact that I wasn't going to actually do any of my exam with HIM there, I had to deal with the fact that I had to turn my entire head in order to see HIM, which made my ogling all the more obvious. HE got up to use the restroom at one point, and as HE was walking down to give HIS test to our TA, I noticed what HE was wearing. I mean, whoa. A black shirt that showed off HIS stocky build. Little black leather boots. And these AMAZING pants. Gray. Tight. Oww. I basically admired HIM all night, and I decided that right before I left, right at the end of our time together when I have little to no chance of ever seeing HIM again, I would just drop HIM a little note. So, when I finally tore myself away from HIM long enough to complete my exam, I extracted a slice of paper from my notebook, looked around to make sure that no one was going to accuse me of cheating, and wrote:
Just wanted to let you know that you look BEAUTIFUL tonight.
Then, I calmly turned in my exam, walked back up the stairs to HIS desk, and placed it on top of HIS exam without a word. HE glanced at it, but I didn't want HIM to have a chance to say anything, so I turned and walked away. It was beautiful. I constantly tell strangers that I'd like to bear their children and whatnot, but telling is different than writing something that can be used later as physical proof. It was a good night for Katie.
Michael H. Cautela, 39, was sentenced to 300 hours of community service in Columbus (my city), specifically cleaning restrooms and zoo cages, for two counts of assaulting women by spraying them with a mixture of salad oil and wine. When the judge asked why, Cautela said, "I just like to see ladies with oil on them." But, said the judge, "This had urine in it." Cautela held firm: "It was mostly oil."
In December, in Orlando, Joseph Edward Nichols, 29, was sentenced to five years in jail for squirting eleven people with a water pistol containing his own semen."
cramer4310 (9:30:25 PM): hey, what math are you in
Auto response from Queen Katie Ett (9:30:25 PM): Okay, so math final at 7:30. I've done no studying, no homework all quarter. All I've got left is the hope that God will randomly bless me for not making fun of Leigh today, not even in my mind. Until 7:30, I will not touch my computer. Not even if Mike spontaneously comes home from work. Don't tempt me, though, Mike. I've got no willpower at this point.
cramer4310 (9:30:56 PM): what you write: Okay, so math final at 7:30. I've done no studying, no homework all quarter. All I've got left is the hope that God will randomly bless me for not making fun of Leigh today, not even in my mind. Until 7:30, I will not touch my computer. Not even if Mike spontaneously comes home from work. Don't tempt me, though, Mike. I've got no willpower at this point.
cramer4310 (9:32:36 PM): what i read: Blah blah blah. Blahblah blah blahblahblah. Blah blah blah bleeblah. Blubleblah blah blah blah blah.
Jeremy claims that if an away message is more than one line long, it all starts to run together for him. Ouch.
Those pants - delicious.
Thank you for making math class worth coming to.
