My Best Friend Forever, Ali, is coming to visit me next Thursday, and I’m already carefully planning what will be on our agenda. I’m most definitely not as cool as she thinks I am, so I’m pulling out all the stops. Ali is one of those friends you’d bend over backward to impress. It might be nice to have someone I admire in class tell me she likes my shoes, but ultimately, if Ali thinks I’m lame, it’s all null and void. Luckily it’s one of those relationships with a mutual awe for the other. If I were gay, she’d be my lover. If I were gay, life would be easier.

Anyway, the goal is to at least put on what I like to call an “awesome facade;” I have to fool her into thinking everyone’s my friend and that I party like it’s 1999 (even when it’s 2005). Lucky for me, I’ve got it easy. She’s coming for Dillo Day.

Freshman year, I was Northwestern-college-student incarnate; I did all the typical Dillo Day activities. I meandered around the Lakefill. I watched the members of the Crystal Method move boxes around on stage while “performing.” I made an appearance at the porn festival and listened to commentary from two guys behind me discussing the self-esteem issues of the actresses. I even played hackie sack and threw up in a garbage can.

But last year I just didn’t buy into NU’s celebration of the Native American. I slept until 2 p.m., yelled at drunk people outside my window, watched a few episodes of “My So-Called Life” with friends and did a double header at the movie theater: “Shrek 2” and “Troy.” One ticket was paid for, the other was not. Scandalous!

But this year things will be different. It’s not likely that I’ll be sneaking into bad movies this time around. Instead, I will embody the Dillo Day spirit once again. In the words of Andrew W.K., I will “party hard” and perhaps even “party till (I) puke” — I got me a lady to impress.

I already have a few things lined up for Dillo Day. In the morning, we’ll be heading over to some friends’ suckling pig roast. Supposedly it will be made on a spit from a compost aerator in their backyard. While it’s the thought that counts, I thank God I’m a vegetarian. The main draw for me will be a pile of rocks, pipe cleaners and googly eyes — we’ll be making rock friends (commonly known as “pets”), which will later be sold to inebriated coeds on the Lakefill. It’s a lucrative business, but I bet you could even sell dirt in a Coke bottle on this magical day.

I can be a quirky person, which is why Ali and I get along so well. That’s why I’m ecstatic she’s coming for Dillo Day — because it’s the one holiday here when you can be as stupid as you want to be. And we can be pretty damn ridiculous. Perhaps this year will be scandalous for a reason other than sneaking into a collective four hours of blockbusters at Century Theatres.

Communication junior Lindsay Sakraida is the PLAY editor. She can be reached at [email protected].