Can I Get a Lint Brush With That?

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--Due to my hypoglycemia, I have been on a ridiculous calorie restriction for the past two months. Five days a week I have to take a serious load of vitamins and sugar pills, and bind myself to no more than 1,200 calories per day. I kid you not. The worst part of this has been giving up my beloved Coca-Cola products. I love Coke. I need Coke. It might not be my best friend, but it's close.

And I know what some of you are thinking: ""But Geoff, there's Diet Coke!" True, but it sucks. It's like giving up Michelob Light for Michelob Ultra, which is a sacrifice only fat chicks on the Atkins Diet need to make. Have you had Michelob Ultra? It's like drinking bong water. It's so far from Mikki Light that it blows my mind. I don't understand. Let's talk about something else.

Diet Coke...today I broke down and bought one. I needed caffeine, it has no calories, and I found one with Lemon. Diet Coke with Lemon. This could be OK, right? F*ck no. Apparently when they said "with Lemon" they meant "with Fabric Softener", because that's what it tastes like. I took three sips and started hallucinating. All of the sudden I'm driving the Snuggle Bear (TM) and he's asking me to buy him beer. That was my last foray into Diet Cola. I'm now stocked on water and I hate my life immensely.

--If some of you haven't seen this yet, here is a link to my old website that I built for a class at JMU. It's pretty worthless but there are some good pictures. And yes, Stanley is still safe with me in PA. He's excited about our upcoming permanent road trip.

--New link to Just Carmen. There is nothing stable about this girl, which is a good thing, and her site is littered with Britney Spears pictures, which leads me to believe there is a repressed lesbian fetish going on here, which is exciting in and of itself. And, I mean...what more do you need? I'm getting a happy battery just thinking about it. Where the hell are my pants?

--So, OK, I'm officially moving to LA in May. It had been March, but that's a long story (incidentally, Tim and Eric, if either of you are reading this, don't tell Dad, I haven't figured out a way to break it to him yet). It's a liberating feeling knowing that you are no longer a spectator in a life you hate...you've taken control of the horse and put yourself in the race. My buddy Trev is coming with me, either just for the drive or as a roommate. I could count on fifty hands the number of times we've fantasized about exactly which college football package we will buy. I mean, we'll have to watch PSU games at like 9 AM West Coast time. There's finally a reason to wake up on Saturday morning...well, a reason that isn't masturbation.

If there was a rap theme song to this road trip, it would be called "Trippin' a UHaul: Maybe Not Us, But Two Men Could" by Goose feat. T. Richardson Brown, Banker. How you luh-dat? Is that yo ass or yo momma have reinderr? Collectin' so much grass PoPo...alright, sorry, I'll stop.

More on Geoff's LA Adventure (TM) in the coming weeks.

--I'll end with a funny story. I was speaking with the inimitable and lovely Lesbian Ali tonight and this came up, so I thought I'd share it with you all. If you have heard me speak of this before, well...listen again.

Lesbian Ali lives with Lesbian Michelle in a Fantasy World called Hunter's Ridge, apt. 1360 E. Though they would tell you to the contrary, they are in fact sleeping with each other. There are two things that prove this, and I'm not making either up:

1) They have a cat together named Dillon, and when they get wasted, which is every day except Szzzblehmpfday, they torture it, exclaiming happily in baby-speak, "Diwwon woves when his mommies get dwunk."

2) They own a tandem bike together. Two. College. Girls. Tandem. Bike.

So of course we make friends with them as soon as possible. Fast forward to this October on a particularly drunken trip to JMU. My buddy Loftus and I meet said Lesbians out at a party. We are not sober. We soon stumble back to The Magical Hunter's Ridge, where men have been created and ripped apart in a single night. Loftus, ignoring TWO plush couches in the living room(and probably Michelle's bed, but we won't speak of that), immediately pulls a...well, a Loftus, and passes out on the floor. I attempt to eat spaghetti, with little success. The lesbians retire to their respective bedrooms as I go vegetable on one of the couches.

Fast forward again to roughly 7 AM. My eyes open. I have NO idea where I am. Suddenly, taking a slow, SLOW look around the living room, I recall, "Ah, yes. JMU. Ali and Michelle's. That's right." Then I feel a large object to my right. I look over. It's Michelle. "Why did Michelle get on the couch with me," I first wonder. Then I reassess my surroundings and realize that I've made my way into Michelle's bed. No explanation. I nudge.

GEOFF: "Hey."
MICHELLE (GROGGY): "Aaaaaarghhthp."
GEOFF: "How the hell did I get in here?"
M (Now awake and startled): "Um...I don't know."
G: "Really, how did I get in here?"
M: "Really, I don't know."

A few beats of silence.

M: "Why is my closet open?"
G: "I don't know."
M: "I never open my closet. Why is the bathroom door closed?"
G: "Huh?"

Silence. Golden silence.

M: "Did you pee in my closet?"

Honestly, I don't know if I did or not. I really couldn't tell you how or why I got in her bed. It just happened. Though no evidence was ever found of closetal urination, we can't put it past me. When I was four I peed in my babysitters closet about thirteen times over the course of one summer. I made an Olympic Event out of it. I was the Carl Lewis of Long Distance Closet Urination. So there's a pattern of past behavior.

I'll be back at JMU on Nov. 22nd. Ali, I'm gunning for your closet next.