I have tubes of socks!

A day off. Finally, a day off. I woke up extremely lazily yesterday. I was maybe a half hour away from going to find Cliff when he showed up. Fitting, eh? I took him to see Superbad. He was only mildly amused. He found Seth to get on his nerves. :: shrugs :: Oh well, I tried. It’s a movie I I like. Evan’s the side of me that I used to be, and Seth’s the foul mouth that I’ve been learning to accept. Cliff liked the cops and McLovin more than I did.

“OH SHIT, THE COPS.” Good stuff.

We smashed for a while, and then I took him home. Afterwards, I bothered depositing my check in the bank. I’m glad Erik showed me how to do that at the ATM. Screw direct deposit – I actually like the satisfaction of having that check in my hand and watching it be deposited. I figured it wouldn’t clear until tomorrow morning, so I decided I’d use my mom’s ATM card for a key purchase today.

I had another lazy morning, and eventually acquired Cliff in the afternoon. He had, much to my surprise, a Taco Bell craving. Goddamn it, I don’t want to go there on my days off! But, I know this won’t happen often. I doubt he’ll even suggest it for another six months, if ever again. We got six crunchy tacos to split (and a beef and potato burrito for Liz) for under four dollars after employee discount. Ha ha. Reminds me, we left that in the fridge. I’ll give it to her tomorrow. She uh, doesn’t care? That’s Liz for you.

Cliff noted that I’m getting markedly better at Melee. About damn time. I’ve had the hardest time adjusting to Melee, after being awesome at Smash Brothers 64. I just can’t seem to get the feel for Melee down. I’m getting anticipation down, and timing. To a degree. I still feel a second slow for everything, and so I get hit. Smash Brothers 64 had very crisp, predictable timing. Due to the charged smash moves in Melee, I’m still unsure of when to attack. I do far better when I just fucking rapid-fire. That’s why I’ve been able to do well as Luigi. WAH!

We all remember when I got drunk and became god at Falco. I still want to be good at him. I’ve been working on Game&Watch, Ganondorf, Roy, and Peach. Peach is a wrecking ball. Her ass is awesome. I pulled a come-from-behind win against Cliff while he was playing as Mewtwo. So. Annoying. I’m not used to him playing as a character that has an electrical effect. I’m usually the one doing that with Pikachu! I was down two lives (as we always do stock), and I realized I hadn’t been using my vegetables as much. We were playing on Kirby’s 64 level, which is one of my favorite levels. I’d pretty much throw vegetables at him constantly, as well as hovering just slightly above the ground. It’s not so much that the vegetables do any damage, as he can block, but since he is blocking, it lets you look for a weakness. Man, that was fucking hard.

What was I saying? I hope I can be good at Melee someday. I’ll shut up and leave it at that.

I took Cliff with me to venture into Sears and find tubes of socks. I go in there once every few years, and it’s always disorientating. They put up a window-wall around all the electronics, which felt just plain weird. We wandered upstairs and scanned for a possible undies section. And there it was, in plain sight.

Tube socks.

Just like I had seen online. The uberpack of ten pairs for ten dollars. I snagged two and asked Cliff if he wanted one. He said he had no money. I said, “My mom’s paying. She won’t mind.” So I grabbed a third. We wandered for a few minutes, and I found a discount rack of TimmyShirts. I hesitated for a moment, as I have too many shirts, but I thought about how long it has been since I last bought shirts. So I let myself buy three shirts. I really should retire some of the older shirts I have (and quite possibly don’t wear/like). Thanks, mom! I rarely ask for anything, so I know my mom won’t mind.

Lighting isn’t good, but they’re TimmyShirts. Also, the shirt I’m wearing I’ve had for maybe a year now. I have so many shirts that I don’t get to wear it that often.

LOOK AT MY PACKAGE(S) OF TUBE SOCKS.

Behind, tubes of socks! You envy me.

On the way to taking him home, as I have to get up at 5 AM to take my dad to the airport, we started talking about how Cliff grew up in Detroit. Which quickly turned to him saying how he hates black people.

Yeah, what, huh? But, it’s Cliff, so I heard him out. See, he went to kindergarten there, and he was the only white kid there. So naturally all the black kids beat him up. This lead to a running gag about how Cliff doesn’t really hate black people, he just hates niggers. Cliff knows this is kind of a bad thing, but he says he can’t help it. He’s had black friends and every now and then he thinks to myself, “OMG, SHE’S BLACK!” He said the only black people that don’t bother him are those from Africa. As he puts it, they aren’t black enough. Or, rather, they don’t have any inferiority complex that he senses from some.

It was one of those conversations that could be perceived as entirely offensive. Liz is bothered by the word nigger, yet hates hispanics for no reason. I asked Cliff how he’d feel if I married a black girl. He said he’d try to be very nice to her.

“I hope I was nice to your nigger wife. OH SHIT I’M SORRY.”

Ha ha. These are the kinds of things that make us laugh. He said he’d probably be okay with my niggeredly babies, as I’m pretty white. He said he’d just think of them as Indian.

I said to Cliff, “It’s an understatement to say you have psychological problems.”

He responded by saying he does, but at least he’s “Very aware of them.” Which is true.

I grew up in suburbia, I think it’s pretty impossible for me to be phased by race differences. As I said to Cliff, there were black kids when I was growing up, and I didn’t think the slightest thing about it. Just the same as some kids have blonde hair and black hair and red hair. The only reason I became aware of other kids’ blackness was because they always implied that if you ever said anything bad about black people, that it was VERY WRONG. Is there White Guilt or something? Whatever.

I usually just say that I’m biracial, so it’s pretty impossible to be racist. Unless it’s Indians. Those fucking Indians. NO MEAT, ONLY BEANS. Cliff said I should ask my dad why he never introduced me to any aspect of Indian culture. Moreover, my dad seems to want to be white. Cliff probably knows more about Indian food than I do. Though, I bet he’s never had my grandma’s dosa. I reminded Cliff that I don’t really have any sense of culture with my mom’s side, either. My dad’s been offering me to visit India. I have no desire to, beyond getting him to shut the hell up. My Aunt Gita teases me, saying I’d get culture shock. That’s the kind of immature, condescending bullshit that I don’t need. So fuck India.

What was I saying?

Oh right, Cliff and I will be hanging out tomorrow. Our usual no-plans plans. Maybe we should go out to eat or something. We haven’t done that in a while.

OH. 7-11 doesn’t have Bawls anymore! I forgot about that. I was sad, I was looking forward to having Bawls in my mouth.

Anyway, I should get naked and become unconscious.