This is an old one, folks. Dated June 15th, 2002, an entry from my notebook. It is kind of fitting, since tonight I ended up at Nappertandy's (what the fuck kind of word is that anyway?) with some friends of mine, for reasons that are still blurry to me. But I was treated to a couple of shots, so it made the experience less painful. I mean, how bad is it when pretty much the first thing you say to a friend after being someplace for five minutes (or an eternity, whichever one it feels like when they start playing a Sean Paul marathon, which totally disproves the existence of God, mind you) is "Wow, so this is where those people I consider wastes of space go at night when they leave their jobs. I feel like an alien here." And now on to the journal entry. Enjoy.

Last night, I had a dream I was hanging out with some people, and I remember that I dressed like I used to when I had my tech support job -- collared shirt, in this case, it was my Apple Computers shirt, and slacks. I wasn't having much fun... that, I remember. On the third night, however, I reverted to my usual clothing -- band t-shirt and jeans. Some damn preppy jerk was asking me why I dressed like a slob (ie, not like him, as I had the previous two days). I told him that I was uncomfortable wearing collared shirts and slacks. I am not that kind of person. I very much prefer t-shirts and jeans. I gave him a big speech about how I am an individual, and that he and his preppy/jock scum asshole friends could keep their collared shirts and fucking stupid khakis. I called them names and trashed their lifestyle... And that's when the mob started chasing me....