Put a helmet on! Actually, take it off, ya looks kinda stupid.

As I mentioned last time, Nicholas threw a Rock Band/Guitar Hero Party at his apartment Friday night. Well, his and Martha's apartment. Who am I to tear asunder what gGd has brought together in marital apartment occupancy?

You were supposed to come dressed as a rock star. Dan came as a flannel-wearing grunge rock star. As you'd expect, Jenny came goth with a tank-top with a ribcage on it. Both Nicholas and CJ had rockin' shirts to show off their tattoos, CJ's real and Nicholas's drawn on. Jill and I were rushed on the way out of the house that morning, so we had to make do. Jill was able to get a nice outfit together with Martha's clothes and some super-cute pigtail horn things fashioned with gel. I had a ringer t-shirt and button up jeans (the jeans of ROCK STARS, people), and a tri-hawk fashioned from some very serious hair gel that Nicholas had on hand. I think it had the word 'glue' on it somewhere. And it was waterproof. Later, I used some water to reshape, and it hurt to slick it because my hair was so taut on my scalp.

I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that that Nicholas brought me three different kinds of hair product to choose from, and this was not by any means the extent of his collection. Draw your own conclusions.

The tri-hawk came about because I was trying to do a faux-hawk, and the long hair on the sides of my head wouldn't go up far enough into the hawk part and dropped back down into accompianing side-wings like my dad gets after a nap. Only instead of a hawk, he's got a tortoise. In my early college years, I made great use of these wings to become Wolverine for Halloween. I've got pictures of me with Wolverine hair (wings included) with butter knives between my fingers for claws. On Friday I spiked the wings up more so I had three pinnacles, and it looked ok at first. But as the evening drew on, the tri-hawk started to look sloppy and lame. What I needed to do was slick back the sides into a back part of the faux-hawk. But such is life. You never can tell when you'll have a bad glue-slicked tri-hawk day. They come when you least expect it. It wasn't even humid.

Just about anyone who plays video games with me knows that I am a seriously above-average player at almost every game I pick up. Right from the start. Soul Caliber II, Halo II, Defender II. Even non-first-sequels like Fusion Frenzy. And I don't even exercise. (Ok, I did used to practice Halo II. But that was, like, II years ago, guys, really.). The Guitar Hero series (even II) is the exception. I just can't seem to get my fingers to hit the buttons when I'm strumming, or vice versa. My rhythm is always off and I can't ever seem to get a double-strum to be my friend. I am not a rocker, I do not rock out.

My first shot at the drums on Rock Band followed the exact same path. I dropped out three times and the band only just made it to the end of the song without me. But after the first song, I started to get the hang of the drums (on Easy, of course), and was really digging it. Only 87% digging it, but still. By the end of the evening, the last song I played on plastic multi-colored button guitar simulacrum was the first time I've really felt comfortable playing anything Guitar Hero related. But both Jill and I were tired and we packed it up around 10:30 or so and headed home. Just before the cops arrived. Not kidding. But that's another story.

As you know, over the last few weeks I've been hitting the caffeine like a backstop on armless amateur day at the batting cages. (84 oz of the the ol' Diet Mt. Dew again today. I didn't really want to get started, but I was uber-tired and Dan said he wouldn't give me a ride back to work from the Hy-Vee inconvenience store if I didn't get something, and it was cold out, and I like caffeine and I had my cup for a refill with me and everything. I'll quit soon, I promise. (Later I also had 24 oz of Vault Zero at Dan and Jenny's.)) Friday was no exception. At least I avoided the taurine and the sugar and the guarana in the offered Red Bull. Hurrah for a lack of aspertamed options saving me some sleep and jitteryness. I'm wigged out on caffeiene, I don't need to be any fatter on top of that.

So, sure enough, I left the party sleepy, drove sleepy, got home sleepy, went to bed sleepy, aaaannddd stayed awake until far too early in the morning, falling asleep somewhere around 1:30 or 2:00.

Now, Jill's been pretty personed out lately. Introvert time's been on the wane since November, and Christmas's recent years insistence on twisting the restful wait for the coming of the messiah into daily spend-every-waking-moment-with-people time doesn't help. On Thursday, the future's schedule loomed bleak for our heroine:
Friday night party.
Saturday morning service project at Jacob's Well.
Saturday night Angela birthday shindig.
Sunday afternoon Jones's personal shower.
Sunday night church, post-church food.
Monday costume making for her mom's friend Martha .
Monday evening dinner at Dan and Jenny's (mmm, chicken and Trivial Pursuit dominance.)
A day off Tuesday.
Then back on Wednesday afternoon to far-too-needy people calling on the phone expecting legal advice from a phone-answerer without legal training. Also, annoying file organization for people with law degrees who mystically sloughed through law school without ever learning to put some related papers for a legal case in some sort of order, seriously, any order at all, you guys.

Before I went to bed on Friday night (ok, Saturday morning) , I got sneaky. We've got one of those fancy electronic thermostats that lets you schedule temperature changes up to four times a day. It's nice to get the house back up not-freezing before you get up or before you get home from work. BUt be able to keep it down when you're asleep or not there. Not that it hasn't cost us $150 bucks a month ssince we still have terrible windows on the place, but tis' still nice. We ususally have it start getting warmer a half-hour before we get up. Warmer house means easier out-of-the-blanket excursions. And there's a vent right next to the toilet seat in the bathroom.; so toasty. Anyway, you you get a heads-up on waking time. So, Saturday morning, I set my alarm for 8:35 and set the heat to start, not at 6:30, but at 8:30. Then, I stayed in bed for an extra 15 minutes, which is my normal mode on a morning, and I jumped out of bed, brushed my teeth, threw on some clothes and headed out the door. Leaving my stocking cap on and Jill still asleep. She didn't get up until 12:30. Stealth introvert assistance is go.

You heard me right: leaving my stocking cap on. See, I've got this thing. Apparently, when I was a baby Timothy, I was born in Minnesota. In the winter. The story goes that I wore a stocking cap for the first 3 or 4 months of my life. Cause his baby head was sooo cold. Aww. Sometime in high school I discovered that if I wanted a really good night's sleep, I could put a stocking cap on and zonk out like nobody's business. And man does it work. It blocks out the high tones of any noises or hums, and the pressure around my head make my eyes want to droop. I even have a raelly fancy one with a smooth interior that wicks away moisture so I don't get an irritated red sweaty forehead anymore. That night, I wasn't tired but I really wanted to get to sleep, so I doubled up and wore a hoodie AND a stocking cap. Double awesome, double comfy sleep.

I did try going without the hat on Saturday morning, really. But with the glue stuff in my hair from the previous night, I was the proverbial gorgon. (The serpentine part, not the so ugly you turn to stone part.) So, without time for a shower, and with the hair from the night that ate the blob from the black lagoon, I threw it on and hoped for the best.

While Jill's the introvert, and I'm the extreme extrovert; I practically get drunk off of people. The longer I'm in the presence of a group having a good time, the more I have to concentrate later to be able to see the moments in my memory that I know happened. Also, it gets harder to keep my mouth from running and jumping up on all the table and leaping from there up on top of the entertainment center.

Now, add to that an article of clothing that mutes sound and makes me feel warm and sleepy. There are times when I've been driving that I've almost gotten in a wreck because I was wearing a stocking cap. Had to tear it off to get home safe. Instant clarity. (By the by, the same thing happens sometimes when I've had a lot of pizza or sometimes spaghetti. The gluten gets to me. I've run three red lights now in a gluten stupor. Jill always asks me if I want to have her drive after pizza now. I usually say yes. Heaven forbid I ever eat gluten heavy-pizza at a party while wearing a hat when I've not gotten enough sleep. I'd probably end up naked, peeing in the potted tree while singing a bee-bop version of Stars and Stripes forever. Of course, I don't know anyone who has a potted tree so I would have had to acquire it somewhere else mid-party, and bring it back for that express purpose. Shudder.)

Saturday I only had the sleepiness, the hat, and the group of people to contend with. On Second Saturdays, Phillip from church organizes a group of people to go around and help people in the immediate community (spiritual and proximal) with things they need done. Sometimes we help people move, and sometimes it's yard work, and sometimes ministries need clothes sorted. This week, we were helping some people who are going to move over to the east side and work with the Hope House to fix up their houses. Tim Keel gave a message this last week about not losing your fervor, and man, did it show that people listen to that guy. We normally have about 10-15 people show. We had thirty. We had so many that we sent some people off to another project first, then spilled out of the first house leaving nine or ten people there to a second house for more projects, again leaving about ten people, and then into Steve's house where the last few of us surprised him by helping paint his servants' staircase and putting sheet rock on Lucas's ceiling, which used to be Eric's but he didn't want covered because he liked to lay in bed and look at the patterns but he's getting married next week and will have a different place to sleep.

At the meeting beforehand, where we plan and pray and sit awkwardly meeting other Jacob's Well people for the first time, they were seeing who could drive, and someone said, "I've got room for three," and without thinking (remember the hat), I said, "I've got room for six!" So I drove.

A couple of times I almost tore the hat off, but my hair was still taut and ouchy when I moved the cap. And when my head is warm, and my temples are snug, I don't wanna take that thing off. Let alone when it hurts to touch the hat. I drove fine, but I'm pretty sure that I annoyed people by going on and on about interesting facts about that part of town and Steve (who some of them got to meet later, and who told one of the stories about himself that I had told earlier and did it much better), and more things about that part of town, and Kansas City, and our search for a community house, and what community houses are in general, and about some of them in the area. Seriously, man, shut up sometimes. Don't be such a freakin' expert on everything.

I was really dragging by the time we finished lunch, and the people who rode with me in the van could tell and told me that I looked tired and we should go. I was SO sure I was going to drop into bed when I got home. But I didn't. I took off my hat and took a shower and was awake for the rest of the day. Only 48 oz of Diet Mountain Dew left over from Adam's New Year's Party, and I was golden.

I should have some sort of moral or wrap up, but I don't. Just watch out when I'm wearing a stocking cap, that's my point.