...but I've already had my fun, I think. My party went very well. I didn't know half the people there. The girl to guy ratio was great, and really surprised me. I didn't run out of anything except for my friend Tammy's extremely well-received cookies. A freshman chick threw up, but didn't miss the garbage can. When the last people left, I only had three songs to go until the end of my playlist. I have concluded that I am some kind of party deity.

Something about watching 10+ people playing a drinking game from afar, most of whom I didn't know, made me think of a certain amazing actor, playing a certain amazing character, in a certain amazing movie, based off a certain amazing book. That would be Robert Redford as Gatsby in Gatsby off Gatsby. The scene when Nick (Sam Waterston) first meets him, and Gatsby is looking out his window at the partying masses below. They're talking, laughing, jitterbugging, and he's separated himself from them; doesn't party, just watches. I used to think that was one of the more depressing scenes in the whole movie: Gatsby, in self-imposed exile, sad and lonely. But now I'm seeing it a different way... sure, there's the loneliness and what have you, but I always feel alone at a party. Now there's also this whole other level of living vicariously through their happiness because I had a hand in creating it. Loneliness and happiness. Detachment and pride. These are emotions I've never thought of existing together, and yet they did last night.

And it all sort of hit me. I have six Edward Hopper prints posted up in my room. They're up there because I like them; they're up there because they were a present from Christine. Anyway, my point is that Hopper forces you to be a voyeur. I'm wondering if maybe that's what I am in general.

The party also led to my creation of a drink (that may or may not already exist; I only know the ingredients in like four mixed drinks). Here's my recipe:

In a small to medium glass,
2 shots vodka
1 shot orange juice
fill glass with Sprite

It's sweet, you see. Very sweet. I'm calling it a "Slick Pixie" (name inspired by Nikki's Halloween costume). Unless I find out that it already exists. Then I'll just call it its real name. But Slick Pixie for now. Plus, it's fun to confuse the hell out of a bartender when you ask for something they've never heard of. Even if you made it up.

My party is tonight. You're all invited.

If you live near Baltimore and want something alcoholic to drink, IM me, and I'll probably give you directions. What does it matter to invite the entire internet anyway... I already have no idea how many people are coming. I have no idea which of my friends are coming, outside of a very select few definites. I have no idea if I have enough alcohol, or too much. As it is, I'm planning to go out today to buy more. Last year was MUCH more self-contained... I had a few friends, nothing big about it, but it was nice. But this year, this is the unknown. And we fear the unknown.

Here's how my advertising went: I had been hyping it verbally for weeks to anyone I saw, and then I sent out a witty, extremely long-winded e-mail. This is all the same as last year. The change would be in the wording of the e-mail. Whereas last year I said that people could of course bring others but to please keep in mind the limited space in my apartment, this year I encouraged the recipients to not only bring lots and lots of others, but also to forward the e-mail along. This is the change. And we fear change.

Now, I know that some of the people I sent the e-mail to are not coming. And I know that very few of the recipients would actually go ahead and forward such a thing... my annual parties aren't exactly the grand balls of the year. And I know that they're putting on Rocky Horror at midnight tonight, which I didn't realize when scheduling, but which may turn into a bank error in my favor. And, as I think about it, these are all very compelling reasons as to why I should maybe even get less people at my place than I even sent out the e-mail to.

So why am I worried? Because I'm a whiner. Because I'm not a fratboy, and thus I have no experience planning parties with unknown attendance expectations, and I actually care what people think of my parties. I'm sure fratboys care, but it's more like a "hey, we had a low turnout tonight... more beer for us" kind of caring. Because I'm a perfectionist, and constantly seek approval.

I've built this thing up way too much in my head. It's carrying too much of me with it. If it goes well, I get this amazing high, but if it doesn't then I'm screwed. It's a gamble; the stakes are high. And, 12 hours before game time, I still have absolutely no indication of what's going to happen. All I do know is that I'm totally stressed out, I wasn't able to sleep last night, and it's all because of a stupid party. Maybe not a grand ball of the year, but definitely a grand ball of my life.

And you're all invited.

Yay! I installed Illustrator 10! Look at how happy I am:

Alternate caption: I'd been reading all sorts of new online comics recently, and I just wanted to show everyone out there why I haven't started my own one.

...I was back at home in the suburbs of northern New Jersey. The calm, friendly suburbs... or so I thought.

I was outside, it was a beautiful day, the birds were singing, etc. I was walking my bike down the block, when I suddenly noticed a flash of movement on the other side of the street. It was a dog. Make that a pair of dogs. Big dogs. Dogs, however, that were behind a metallic chain fence. I decided that no threat existed, and continued walking.

The dogs began to bark, and started sprinting along the edge of the fence, to keep as close to me as possible. Still no problem, right? Right??

That is, until one of the dogs decided to just keep going, jumping the fence, and tearing after me across the street.

I had no time to get on the bike. Barely enough time to put it between me and the charging beast. It began to circle. It began to growl... a deep grinding sound that was just a little too close to the roar of the T-Rex in Jurassic Park. There was no one else in sight. Nobody to help me out. Just me and this evil dog. One thought kept repeating in my head: "S***! I can't believe that this is how I finally die."

It was at this point that I remembered my mobile phone clipped to the side of my pants. Keeping my left hand on the bike, I ever so slowly creeped the right one down, grabbed it, and flipped it open, all while continuing to spin around as the dog circled. I looked down at the phone, and started to dial... 9-1-

"Oh, come over here, you bad dog! Bad dog!" I looked up to find a rotund woman waddling across the street, completely unafraid, admonishing the new bane of my existence. It immediately turned into the most docile pet I'd ever seen, tucked its tail between its legs, and scampered off back towards the house.

The lady approached me, "Are you alright?"
NO!! "I guess."
"He's normally much better behaved than that. He's the sweetest thing."
Yes, sweet. Sweet like Cujo. "Yes, I'll bet."
"You know, I wonder what's the point of these fences if they can just jump right over them, you know?"
What, indeed! "Right. Well, gotta go now. Bye."
"Are you sure you're OK?"
Why, so I won't sue you? "Yes. Fine. Bye."

THE END!

Some food for thought in the Halloween season. Speaking of which, my party's tomorrow!! Hooray! Although it didn't happen last year, I'm hoping to see people in my apartment whom I don't actually know... friends of friends of friends, on into infinity... people who just want to get drunk so badly that they don't care they're walking into a stranger's apartment. I so very much want to meet people like this...

...and then tell them to get the hell out of my apartment! Dude, who the hell are you?? I don't know you!

I'm kidding. People like that intrigue me, and I wouldn't mind throwing back a coupla pints in their company. I think so, at least. How can I know if I've never met them?

Today is October 21st. According to the NY Times website, of which I am a submissive subject, on this date in 1879, the great and powerful Thomas Edison unveiled his working electric light to the world. Now, I'm not one to believe in hocus pocus and all that variety of jazz, but I'm open to trying new things. You know, since nothing else has been working out for me so far. So, here goes:

I call upon you, Mr. Edison, from the great beyond, as the Indigo Girls have done with Galileo before me. I call upon you, master of electricity. I call upon you, creator of light. I call upon you, father of the moving picture (and thus Edward Norton's career). I call upon you, with your 1% inspiration as well as your 99% perspiration. I call upon you, you with your illuminating inventions and vision, to illuminate me...

...and get me a freaking girlfriend! Dammit, Tom, help me out here!

So, I've been decorating for my Halloween party that's Saturday of next week, the 26th. I got these cool little tripod thingies that hold floodlights. It's going to be so professional. Sometimes I think about going into interior decorating, but then I realize that I'm not good at it and that I'm not gay.

I went a little crazy shopping online for stuff last week, and it all got here yesterday and today. I got Jhonen Vasquez's new cute little book Everything Can Be Beaten. It's sort of hard to find, since he published it under the pseudonym "Chancre Scolex," but they sell it at Amazon. Anyway, I'm drowning in empty boxes, and literally drowning since I have no more money. It's a good thing my dad has offered to contribute all of the alcohol to the party. It's so much fun to have a father who owns a pharmacy that sells liquor. I guess different drugs for different thugs, right? Yo? Can I get a hey? No, I really can't.

So, I'm all in that suburban white dork in the hip hop world phase after watching Save the Last Dance on my digital cable last night. And after singing a part of a parody of BoyzIIMen's MotownPhilly at Throat Culture (the sketch comedy group I'm in) earlier tonight. Word.

Oh, and even more crazy than my life is the craziness that's been going on with Steven, the "Dude, yer gettin' a Dell!" commercial kid. Last week on Saturday Night Live, they make fun of him in the Weekend Update segment, then suddenly he has no job security. Anyway, supposedly now the reports that he was getting fired weren't true, and his contract will in fact be renewed. But, Dell will still be releasing new commercials without him in the short term. So, one less annoying person on TV for the time being. Seriously though, you can't hate the kid who plays him... he's an acting student in college: you have to take what you can get.

Answer: L'Oreal Feria Cardinal 67 + Hair Cuttery

Oh, and also, I'm pretty pissed about the whole Nobel Prize for Literature going to the Hungarian guy. I had heard a rumor that I was on their short list, and I totally thought this was my year. You suck, prize committee.

Yes, yes, I know, I know. I've been working on this layout since the summer (you'd think I would have something better with all that time). I like it. AND it works with Netscape 4. Hooray. Well, if that's not exciting, then try this: it has pretty colors. These colors are so sweet that I could use them in kindergarten wallpaper. So eat it. And they're not so pastel-y that you can call me a "puff" neither, Billy Elliot.

Man, I've been staying up way too late. Didja see that crap I wrote yesterday?

"'Cause I like you / Yeah I like you / And I'm feeling so bohemian like you"

Stupid catchy songs piss the hell out of me, what with their hooks and their easily memorized choruses and whatnot. The Dandy Warhols. What the hell? I'd never heard of these guys before Saturday, and now I have one of their albums?? What the hell? What is going on with me?

It's not even their fault either. I saw Igby Goes Down on Saturday, and it was a really damn good flick, and the soundtrack was rockin'. Which leads to researching the song list on the web, which leads to downloading mp3s, which leads to buying CDs.

And now, not more than an hour ago, I was watching the Hedwig movie again, and freaking out that I hadn't gotten that original cast rec. yet. I've bought so many stupid CDs in the past month or so, even more than how many DVDs I've gotten, and that's odd for me. Really odd. And there's no sign of it letting up.

"What came first, the music or the misery?" -Rob Gordon (John Cusack), High Fidelity
It's a really weird time in my life right now. I was depressed and stressed to the point of sickness for a long time, and I might still be a bit blue, but it's nowhere near where it was before. Mostly, it's a kind of detachment, or maybe unaffectedness is a better word. I don't feel emotionally detached, just... I don't know... untouched by the world around me? Gliding through it unscathed. Almost like I'm on pain-killers: everything's warm, fuzzy smiles.

Anyway, as I've said before, I'm not on anything but therapy. I think I should do something to remind me of what I'm feeling right now. Something drastic. I want to start reading some amazing book I've been putting off, like Joyce's Ulysses, or something equally huge. I may dye my hair.