Now I've got holes in my arm, and all I have to show for it is about 4 hours spent with homeless people and two not so crisp $10 bills. Giving plasma isn't exactly a glamorous way of making money, but at least I'm not selling my body.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I always enjoy being the only one in English class to not know about a paper we had to write. Sometimes things are better left not turned in, and this was not one of those times.

I have a positive lucky feeling about the rest of the day though. I've got a hard earned $20 in my pocket and I'm ready to pay some bills. My cousin is coming in from out of town to hangout. I'm busy trying to figure out how we can entertain him. The only thing I can think of is roller skating, bowling, and hanging out at the local car wash. There isn't much to do here in town. I think our best bet is to just tell him that unfortunately the town closed down tonight and we're going to have to stay inside and play Monopoly.

I've always hated hosting parties. They always seem to suck. Forced conversation, stale chips, and spin the bottle seem to be the extent of them. I've always preferred going to a neutral location, or to another person's house. My parties always seem to have the 13th Birthday party vibe. Pin the tail on the donkey, piniatas, and if everyone's lucky they get a little party bag with candy and gazoos at the end of the day.

I'm usually the fun loving party guy. As of late, it's hit or miss. Some nights I'm in these anti-social moods, and other nights I'm my regular self. Maybe I lack confidence. Maybe I need to relax a little and not take things so seriously. I remember how that used to be. I was a lazy, procrastinating bum, but at least I wasn't struggling to think of something good to say. Maybe this isn't true and my self concept is so low that I'm imagining faults in my character. I've got to go plan a party.

Eat, drink, and be Josser.