Wednesday, May 14, 2003. 5:32PM

My parentals are shiting me up the wall. Damn I need to either move out, or kill them all or something. On the up side, they go to Europe in a couple of weeks. I've go no end of assignments before then (three major ones), and I'm so not disposed to doing them. Uni has been hard this semester. I miss school. I wish there was a simple way to cheat. I just can't be bothered thinking.

Someone complained the other day about not being able to follow my convoluted "Girl X" and so on system of naming, so in future, where I don't want to name someone I'm going to call them by the name of a character from Grease. Naturally, I shall be Danny. When I run out of names I'll expand either into Xanado or maybe Saturday Night Fever. Maybe even Welcome Back Kotter, I'm not sure.

Hasn't really been much of a week. Didn't do to much. On Thursday I spend the whole day on the phone. Haven't done that for a long time. There's only really one or two people I like talking on the phone to, and quite a few I don't, so it wasn't really that good a day. The day after, however, I headed over to Will's to make observations about life and eat pork (and it was good, despite the intense feeling of sacrilege I felt). I laughed at Will and his girlfriend, who have a very strange (and humorous) relationship. I think I may have gotten him in trouble. Sorry about that buddy. After a few hours I headed to the city to take care of some business, including the purchase of a mother's day card for my mother. Mother's day cards, of all cards, are exceptionally crap. There is literally no middle ground between the overly soppy pink pieces of crap, and the dirty jokes (and I am not giving my mother a dirty joke). All I wanted was a strange looking picture of a dog with a lame pun inside or something, but no, not a chance. I ran into Allan while I was there, and and Allan's girlfriend, and even Allan's girlfriend's mother. The women folk went to a toilet somewhere, and I spent a few moments...

Fuck my mother is pissing me off! She just walked in a made a series of demands about either getting off the computer, or sending email for her. Fuck off. I'd like to see her run this piece of crap for fifteen fucking seconds without my help, and yet when I'm here, just minding my own business (and typing too, not doing anything she can identify as recreational), she just comes in and gives me crap. Fuck, I'm pissed off now. I'm going upstairs to watch The Simpsons. I'll finish this later.

6:30PM

Man. I sound like a whiny little bitch.

Anyway, yes, the women go off and I spend a few moments with Allan discussing girls and other pertinent topics (pretty well just girls), before they come back and he leaves. In the few moments we have Allan's girlfriend tells me to come to a party the next night (and Allan's girlfriend's mum says that her daughter explained who I was, which confused me somewhat as she'd only met me once before, and shouldn't really know who I was). We part and I go home for a few hours. My sister had gotten her articles placement that morning (she's doing a law degree, and after they finish law students have to do a year with a law firm as an article clerk before they are fully qualified. These places are quite few, and she's been stressing about it the last few months) so we went out to celebrate. After this I headed city side where I was meeting Sandy for drinks (previously referred to as Girl A and other miscellaneous names). On the train, however, I randomly ran into Steve (as I often do), and we discussed girls also. All this discussion of girls was brewing some thoughts in my mind, but I'll get into them at then end of this small anecdote. Anywho, I have a few moments to wait, so I buy a Hot Chocolate at Starbucks (Grandé) and read my book before she turns up. We go to Bambu and begin drinking (Estonian Vodka). After an hour or so the J Man (no, it wasn't a pseudonym before; that's actually what I call him) and his girlfriend Frenchy rock up (I was somewhat disappointed) and we share intelligent conversation. There's some of this, and a little of that, and then after some time we wind up on the way home. For a brief, brief moment I'm alone with the J Man, and we have the smallest conversation, ranging from girls, to God, then back to girls. I catch the last tram, and miss my stop (it's not even the tram that goes very near to my house, so I have quite a walk). On the way I have some time to think.

Women, you see, are curious creatures. I don't understand them. I dislike many of them. Some of them I really want to fuck, based purely on aesthetic features, whereas others, sometimes equally good looking fill me with no desire at all. Invariably, after getting to know them, I come to the realization that, at least in some little way, they are completely insane. Sandy, for example, I think were I to lay it on the line right now, I could probably fool into some kind intimate interaction, but no, really, I'd much rather wear suits, dance, and generally be smooth. I have a series of women, all my close friends (and Uma Thurman) who I refer to as the 'reserve girls'. I refuse to include them in my depraved sexual fantasies, no matter how tempting it may be. Occasionally my dream state brings them in (although usually my dreams seem to be about weird twists in semantics, and Catch 22 style conundrums), and it tears me up inside. What the fuck am I talking about? I don't remember.

Saturday I was going to a movie, but due to some vagueish arrangements and a desire not to be stuck in a cinema alone, I didn't go. Looking for a good time, I ran into Allan walking down Swanson Street. He was going to my ex-girlfriend, Rizzo's, party which I had been invited to a long time ago, and declined (these exs seem to be popping up rather a lot lately - another one talked to me the other day on MSN - maybe I am being put through some sort of test). Anyway, I rock up to this club-bar hybrid with three other guys (all of us in dark trenchcoats and not looking at all like club people) and we go up to this private room, which gradually fills with people (almost all of whom are male). We play pool for a while (which is on the dance floor, and fucking bad, as invariably the end I have to play from is the end filled with making out people. The only way I won was when the other team sunk the white, so I could play it properly), and drink a lot of beer (I have been drinking spirits a lot lately, and never really had much time for beer, but now I see the point. I found my five beers quite peasant, and something about the bubbles, I don't know what, but the same thing happens with champagne... well... it just gets me drunk real quick). I watch Mark, who I haven't seen since a few weeks ago when I demanded $13.35 from him, and watched him drink my $13.35 in the form of Bourbon and coke. Fucking Mark. Fucking Bourbon and Coke. Don't think I'm not pissed at you Mark. Anyway, the climax of the evening is us watching this girl dance with several other girls on the bar. She's only short - maybe 5' 6". She's wearing a black pleated skirt a little above the knee, long black socks up to a little below the knee. She has on this top that is like a white, figure hugging shirt with only two buttons, conveniently over her breasts. Her hair is blonde and sort of shoulder length. Now, I can't see her face (she looks like she's wearing sunglasses), and her body, while quite quite fine (no fat, well proportioned) is no different to any one of a million other girls. She meets the basic standard for totally boneable. However, she's driving me, and every other nearby warm blooded male wild. Why? Well, I think it was in the way she was dancing. Again, this was nothing special - she wasn't flashing her panties or anything - but the simple grace and confidence with which she moved - not dancing with anyone, not dancing for anyone. I never understood the point of contemporary dancing before. I always thought it was quite strange... I mean swing, or disco, or anything where everyone's doing the same thing - I can see that, but a few hundred people in the same room randomly moving to computer generated beat? Why? Well, now I see. Every time I shut my eyes I see that girl dance. Man. Now her I want to fuck.

And on that note, I declare us back on track.