My friends moved into their beach house this past weekend, and this week has been spent hanging out there a little, and I started my new job doing deliveries for The Wing Zone. You know, being a delivery driver doesn't feel like a job. It's really too easy.

Tuesday night I saw someone I didn't think I was ever going to see again (read previous journal entry). It went well I thought, and I was promoted to hug. Sadly, she was unable to hang out tonight. Understandable, as if I'd driven all the way back to Daniel Island from downtown I wouldn't feel like going out again either. I really hope I see her again soon, since I've gotten over being such an ass (and thanks to my first intake of alcohol in months I'm much calmer and easier to deal with in general). Isn't that weird? I drink for the first time since May and I'm a totally different person for a few days. Good ol' depressants, letting neurotic people function since ancient times.

So yeah, I look forward to (hopefully) seeing her again soon.

That was Tuesday night. Wednesday night I went over to my friend Dominic's house. He was leaving on Thursday morning for Case Western Reserve, so I went to see him before he left. He's the smartest fucker I know. I'm fucking HUMBLED around him. His mind is on an almost statospherically higher plane than mine. I could never even dream of figuring out square roots in my head like he does, nor figure out programming language and code on a computer, or any of that. I kinda make myself feel better by reminding myself that I allow myself to be goofier and thus (in my estimation) more human, but I know he'll ultimately be extremely successful and I'll end up living a horribly mediocre life. While hanging around him makes me almost want to cry at my own stupidity as I leave his presence, it still feels good to speak to him, and he's a funny motherfucker to boot. Anyone who knows me and how I am, imagine my talkative nature amplified by a few increments, and that's him. And much much smarter.

Thursday was my first night of delivering. $35 on top of $5.25/hr for only three hours of work. I think I'll like it. After I got home I headed downtown to see a band called Swift River Rescue (I think that's what their name was). I was there since a friend of mine's friend was in the band or one of those weird connections and they asked me to come out, so I did. I danced a little (they played covers and stuff) but left around 12:35 after the band took a break and they all came to where I was sitting with Jordan to thank me for being the only dude that would actually dance. It's funny to go out and watch girls try to drag their boyfriends onto a dance floor and the guys just totally refuse. Jordan and I went over to Kaminsky's after that and I ate a Brownie Sundae, my only meal of the day. Oh man was it good.

Tonight was low-key, as Ryan and I had to pathetically ask a girl I know who's 21 to buy us booze. We elected to conserve almost all of it, since we were all really tired for some reason and Saturday awaited. I obviously would have hung out much longer if she had ended up coming out there, but it's understandable why anyone wouldn't, since "it's just the three of us vegging around the X-Box" doesn't sound very exciting.

Tomorrow I work 5-10 and then the jam is on, it would seem. Ryan and Jordan said they've got people coming down tomorrow and we'll all be "wile'n out," as I'd put it. I asked Victoria what she was up to, but she said she was staying in tomorrow night as well. Guess she's sick or something. Shame, since we're going to be messed UP. These people are supposed to be bringing some dank with 'em, so it'll be time for booze and smoke to battle in my body for the first time since May. I look forward to it. I wonder how Goldschlager tastes after smoking up. Hopefully the taste is deadened somewhat. I could barely drink any the other night.

Has anyone actually visited what I have listed as my homepage on here? It's wwujd.com, or What Would Uncle Jesse Do. It's fabulous. Look at this diary entry of Uncle Jesse's:

"September 15, 2003--

Dear Diary,

Today I woke up and took a pee. I peed on the seat on purpose, and then left the seat up. Becky came in to take a crap, and she fell in the toilet. Then, when she put the seat down, she sat in my pee. She asked me why I did that...and then she realized I was Uncle Jesse. Then she went and sat in the pee again. Then I bleached the laces for my white tennis shoes. They got really clean, so I took the bleach and spelled out "butt-lord" on Danny Tanner's front lawn. Then I went back to my house and built a snowman with really sweet hair. It was summer, so there wasn't any snow, but I made Joey Gladstone go to the zoo and buy me 40,000 snow cones. I ate some Chef Boyardee "Dinosaurs with meatballs." Everyone thinks that they stopped making them, but the truth is that I just bought them all. Then I went over to Jimmy Buffet's house and stole all of the Flintstone's Push-Pops out of his freezer. Then, I took a huge dump on his lawn and farted on his guard dog. I went home and put on my leather pajamas with the rhinestones and the fringes. I looked at myself in the mirror and got a raging boner. Then I watched every episode of The Cosby Show and went to bed. Tomorrow, I'm going to the Video Game Exchange to trade in the Game-Gear that Becky bought me (cause she is lame) for a Nintendo Power Glove.

Your Friend,
Uncle Jesse
xoxo"

COME ON! That's awesome!

So anyways, thanks for reading all of this, if you did. Sorry I fell through on the new writing, I kept sitting down with great ideas but no way to string them together. Perhaps tomorrow night will inspire me.

+-> Patrick