frustration

Yesterday was kind of rough. I got to work at 11 because I was scheduled at 11. At 11:45 I was about ready to open the bar but the building still seemed suspiciously empty so I asked the box office people and they said the lobby wasn't open until 2 and they had no idea why we were there so early. I called BL to wake her up find out if she knew something no one else did. Turns out the schedule was probably just a typo and the new guy and I were there two hours early with nothing to do. I was unhappy. That's two hours of morning I could have been asleep in bed. Not cool.

There's this one man on the front-of-house (ushers and stuff) staff who's in his 40s or 50s and is very nice but kind of creepy. Something seems off with him, but it's hard to place. They had him run the satellite bar yesterday, and he apparently hates it and had only done it once before. I put on my teacher hat and helped him through the set-up. Another person helped him run it and break it down. Then I showed him how to do the paperwork. I think he must be LD or just this side of retarded, because it took 45 minutes of me sitting there with him and going through step-by-step in a way that reminded me of helping the first graders with their homework. He couldn't count by 20s and instead went through his money saying "10 20...30 40...50 60" It was sad and frustrating and after he was done and out of the bar I went in the back room and closed the door and screamed.

NBF wasn't feeling well so when we were on our way out and dropping my car off by my apartment for lack of parking in Wrigleyville we stopped in my apartment. I'm living in my own filth these days. He's seen it before, but it's as bad as it's ever been (those of you who know my living space tendencies know quite how awful that must be) and it makes me very mad at myself. Add to that my dog completely freaking out and barking and shaking and panting for a solid hour while NBF lay quietly on my bed and the shame and frustration was too much. I love my dog just. so. much and I don't know what to do when he gets like that besides never have people in my apartment ever but it goes back to my whole Fortress of Solitude tendency and I'm going to die alone and they'll find me days later behind a pile of empty frozen dinner boxes. I hate myself for it.

personal inventory

• I'm not good at juggling many friends. A few friends are good, but I can only handle regular contact with a couple of people at any given time.
• I try to scare people off before they get to know me because I am absolutely terrified to lose existing friends to my rampant personality flaws.
• Plenty of people who turn out Ordinary feel they are destined for Great Things. I do not want to turn out ordinary. I have all this creativity and compulsion to write and be creative, but I can't find my direction right now so I end up playing WebSudoku instead of producing beautiful things that will make me rise to greatness. I wish I could be satisfied with Ordinary. I vividly remember the moment when I first realized I wasn't going to grow up to be a Princess and was far more likely to turn into just another person like my parents. I was seven. It was awful
• I think many of my Issues stem from my having developed intellectually before I was emotionally ready to cope with Reality. I was very aware of the darker side of humanity at a tender age, but my cushy life* prevented me from forming the callused strength normally associated with the Old-Before-Her-Time child.
• Being super-cynical yet super-sensitive very much defines me as a person.
• I need to put myself to use already. Can this school thing please start now? I'm getting restless.

*which, for the record, I'm not complaining about.

taken and left

Surgery was successful and friend is doing fine. Much relief, though the rest of the relief won't come until the test results are back.

I have a friend who, like me, has an eclectic set of interests and life-pursuits that don't necessarily mesh well with one another. Unlike me, he tends to keep them compartmentalized and only shows certain facets to certain people. I prefer to take my ugliest and most shocking, dislikable bits and lay them right out there and declare "This is me - take it or leave it," then get indignant and bitter with the world when it chooses to "leave it." Clearly, both methods are flawless. But as he figured out earlier today, he is narcissistic while I am ego centric: he thinks he is the best while I think I am the center. It's an interesting but important distinction.

Soylent Green

Today I will be spend knitting in a hospital waiting room. My friend is having a procedure that is not in itself scary but does require some major slicing and dicing and should tell us (though not immediately) if it's something much worse. I'm scared, and I'm not the one being chopped up. Isn't there some rule against young, spry people having terrible diseases? There's so much else to worry about when you're a 20-something, and almost everything is a beginning. At least, the things you have to choose are about beginnings - careers, significant others, babies, where and how to live your life. And we act like it's all within our control, simply a matter of deciding and finding and doing. But whether it's fate or God or random variation or a powerful malicious monkey, there's just so much mortality thrown in there, mocking our choices and making them for us. Things our bodies do and don't do that we not only failed to take into account, but that make all our accounting seem silly and frivolous. We try so hard to explain and justify and ignore our mortality because we need to cope. The Unknown is terrifying. I am terrified. Part of me wants to "take the blue pill" and ignore such mortality and complete lack of control, but how can I? It's the choice to pretend it's all a choice, and I'm not even sure I wish it was a choice.

All this and more will remain unresolved. Frustrating.

ugly

My phone is dead and the new one won't be here until tomorrow at the absolute earliest, so I'm a bit cut off from the world. Feeling ugly and lonely. Not for lack of the love of family and friends, but I want Boys to think I'm pretty and wonderful, even after they get to know me. Why does that seem so hard? External validation, dammit.

I have half a post from a few days ago written, but I'll write the other half when I'm less cranky and back-date it.

Sing it, Dorothy Parker:

Unfortunate Coincidence
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying,
Lady, make a note of this —
One of you is lying.

!!!

My brother just got into his early decision college! And much rejoicing followed!

overdue

Just got off the phone with Nameless Chicago College: they have everything except my letter of recomendation, which I know got mailed from Cleveland yesterday! So this going back to college thing should actually happen! Huzzah! I'm ready for it. Bring on the classes and required readings and papers and assignments.

Yesterday, I slept. It was wonderful. There was nothing I absolutely had to do, so I did absolutely nothing. My apartment was cold and my dog was being snuggly, so it was like having a furry hot water bottle that loves me.

Sunday was my improv show. It went just fine, except that one of the scenes got cut out for time and the Model ended up getting about 45 seconds of stage time, which sucked for her since she's actually good and wanted to be there and all. I'd been pushing for us to try the show timed for weeks, and one scene in particular wasn't going anywhere and then they just didn't end it, but this was our first show and we're only a level C class, so it's not that big a deal. My whole family, including my cousin and cousin-in-law, all came to see it. That part was very nice. Considering my sibblings and I make jokes about the sexual nature of the Holocaust and my sister frequently tells me she hopes I get raped up the ass without any lube, I didn't have to worry about censoring myself and it's good to have audience members who are obligated to love you.

Please Pass the Barbiturates

Couldn't sleep last night until 5 AM, took 4 hours to do two loads of laundry this morning because some bitch took my we clothes out of the washer and proceeded to take up both dryers for three hours straight so I ended up two hours late for my improv class's final rehearsal before tomorrow's show. An hour and a half to try and find presents (or at least silly stand-in presents until I come up with something more quality) for my family, who will be doing Hannukah tomorrow night, walk the dog, and change for work. Not surprisingly, I was late to work as a result. Bah. But BL switched with me so that I worked the bar while she worked the concessions stand thing upstairs, partly because she'd been there all day and wanted to go home earlier, and partly as a thank-you to me for last week when I was the only person in town. Tonight was the opening of previews for the new main stage show, so the front of house manager bought her entire staff a round of drinks and the production head people bought the crew a round of drinks and the actors bought themselves many, many rounds of drinks and I didn't get out of there until 2 AM but I made $122 in tips. Thank you, BL!

Now I have to be at the improv performance space at 11 AM and I'm hungry and exhausted but still wired from bartending and caffeine and the impending show. And I need a break as I'm lousy at handling stress like this but I don't have a free night until December 26, so hopefully I'll make it until then.

Last night, I ran the bar at work all by myself, and it went suprisignly well. And I made over $75 in tips. Lots of actors in full costume sneaking out of their tech rehearsals for free champagne. Very amusing.

Tonight I saw Argonotika with my family. It was quirky but wonderful. Clearly written by a women, as the female characters were the ones with depth and ran the course of the show. David Schwimmer was there. He's a member of the theater company. My mother and sister were very excited.

imbalance

I feel like a lot of people in my life are having a rotten go of things right now. Cancers and big break-ups and general unhappiness with life. I feel the need to pour a shit-ton of joy into the cosmos to make the world whole again. Maybe I can knit scarves for autistic baby seals in my "free time." That's sure to work.

Today was my precious, precious day off. I had tentative plans with SUC, so I called him and left him a message after I woke up around 1, showered, walked the dog, and fell back asleep. I've got this strange lurky migraine thing going. SUC never called back, but I didn't try his home phone or anything as I was unconscious for much of the day. Now I'm drugged up but still experiencing pain and light-sensitivity but no other symptoms (no nausea and I can actually think, so I can't complain too much) and I can't sleep. I should clean my apartment, but that's really unappealing right now with my vision all funky.

I'm such a kvetch. I'm annoying the hell out of myself right now. Where's my Dorothy Parker?

mortality

So I have a friend who may have cancer. That's been taking up most of the thoughts going through my mind tonight; I can't even imagine what's going through his. I hate the uncertainty of mortality. Maybe I'll just wrap myself in existentialism or develop a deep belief in an afterlife. Yes, good idea, Annabell.

lazing

I messed up and told Birdy something that I'd forgotten NBF wasn't planning on telling people. I'm usually such a good secret-keeper, too. I just forgot to tag it in my brain as a secret.

I am the most lazy, useless, procrastinatalicious person ever. I'm finding myself very annoying right now, but not in an inspirational get up and actually do shit sort of way. I'm blaming the cold. I'm getting much less exercise as a result of it, since the dog and I seem to be able to stand about 5 minutes outside before one or both of us insist on going in. Assuming I do actually start school next month (I had to resend my transcripts since they only hold onto them for a month without a completed application...very annoying) I need to start going to their gym. Get buff and studly. Maybe stick my dog on a treadmill, too. They'd love that.

It is Friday but it feels like a normal person's Monday since I'm about to start a bunch of crazy-busy days in a row after having a few relaxing ones. Think I can sneak in a quick nap before work? I'm certainly going to try.

cold, movie, cold

It is bitter, bitter cold. I do not like it.

Saw Borat tonight with my cousin and cousin-in-law. Very funny. Oh my goodness unattractive naked men wrestling very naked and very wrestling. Good to go out with good people. Didn't do enough productive crap today, but I don't have to go in to work until tomorrow evening, so perhaps I can knock a few things off before then. I shouldn't be this tired. It's the weather. My body wants to hibernate. Curl up with the dog until the world is warm again.

expert advice

Alcohol and friends are the perfect cures for boys and mothers and unhappy employment.

From the experts:

The sun's gone dim, and
The moon's turned black;
For I loved him, and
He didn't love back.

-Dorothy Parker

I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member.

-Groucho Marx

And, for what it's worth, I no longer think it's possible to escape becoming one's parent(s). My mother makes me crazy and I'm headed straight for her, kicking and screaming.

Daughterhood Damnation

Today I'm being a jerk because I overslept and since I have to go in to work tonight it's not worth my coming over for just a few hours, so I'm coming tomorrow instead and the painters are supposed to start on my former room today. I'm the one saying I'm being a jerk. I'm allowed to be a jerk. But I'm being too passive-agressive about my jerkiness. I think the trouble is she and I are both being completely passive-agressive and trying to negotiate doing things for ourselves versus things for eachother while the two goals are at odds. We both see ourselves as martyrs for the other and just end up miserable. But as long as we're going to be narcisistic about things, I'm now trying to take care of myself first which means being the "bad guy" and trying to stomach my role as such. Except even in doing that I'm still pulling my whole martyr bullshit in that "I will take on the negative role in order to free us from this vicious cycle." Please tell me there is some way to escape from a) myself and b) turning into my mother. Because this little dance leads right back to Depressionville and I hate it. And being aware of it just frustrates the hell out of me when I still don't know how to stop it. I end up overwhelmed and useless and crying and crawling back into bed. Mmmm...bed...

But now here's a thought: perhaps the reason cleaning out my old room has been such an issue is that it's admitting I've grown up and moved on. And for me cleaning it out sucks because it feels like going back (not to mention it's tedious and insanely time consuming), while for her drawing out the process just makes it more painful. It's a thought. Let's just hope tomorrow I can finish it all and be done with it. At least this particular chapter of "it." I'm sure the shit with my mother will continue until we and any female offspring into the future of our family lines are all dead.

s-t-r-e-s-s

Note: identifying details in this story have been changed to maintain the thinly veiled identity of the author so she can't get fired again for blogging.

Last night, the Brazillians finished the run of their show at my theater of employment. This meant an open bar sponsored by company management. That meant a lot of very drunk Brazillians. Apparently, these guys are big stars back in Brazil. Here, not so much. Two of them in particular were hitting on everything with a vagina. One is very large and kept groping the girls who work as ushers and in the box office, then kissed BL and my hands and told us we were beautiful when we wouldn't give him another drink 30 minutes past last call. We had to physically force him out of the bar and lock the door. There's something very satisfying about having power over a large, attractive, famousish Brazillian.

Otherwise, work sucked. I had to be there by 11 AM so I could be out of the lobby before the downstairs show opened even though the studio lobby didn't open until 1:30 and the show wasn't until 3. That's a lot of time standing around doing nothing. I got things for Tina and set things up for BL and made coffee. Facinating. Business was decent for a Sunday afternoon and people were very nice, so that part wasn't too bad. I put my stuff away and brought it downstairs and was talking to BL and one of the house managers when the house manager commented on how crazy it was to have a four show day. We knew about the two shows for the main stage, but a second show in the studio? Swell. So now instead of being 30 minutes from going home, I was 30 minutes from having to re-set-up everything and start all over again. This made me very, very cranky. To make matters worse, because we didn't know in advance, I had to drag my carts through the crowd assembled for the downstairs show and then one of the big head theatre honchos saw me and I'm sure at least BL will get in trouble for this, because it's bad planning or whatever. Oh so cranky. I seriously considered doing a shot of something, but was afraid I'd just fall asleep in my ice bucket. So fine. La-dee-da, second shift, getting food, working the bar, 13 hour day that hit overtime for the week even after I had to take Thursday off on account of my puking.

My improv class is doing a show on Sunday, December 17 at noon. Let me know if you want to attend. Saturday we found out who will be in which things for it. I'm doing the taxi cab character game thing (nothing too thrilling) and the alphabet game. I like the alphabet game. It's a two person scene in which every line has to start with the next letter of the alphabet. Very cerebral. The guy I'm doing it with is very good, too. Now I just have to spend the week reading the dictionary, or at least the X section. Maybe I'll try to have all my conversations in alphabet game format. See if anyone notices. That could be funny, but mostly funny for me in my head. I guess that's 95% of my funny, anyway.

Tomorrow I'm going to my parents' to finish cleaning out my old room so it can be painted Wednesday. I wasn't supposed to work tomorrow night, but Tina's got her root canal follow-up appointment or something, so now I'm a terrible daughter again because I'll have to leave by 3:30 and my mom won't be there until 1:30 so we won't get to spend that much time together.

Just remember, you can't spell MstrOessM without s-t-r-e-s-s.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass...

Blech. So I'm vertical and still feeling off in the stomach but I have my mind back and that is reassuring.

Saturday I saw The Pirate Queen with my family. Same guys who wrote Les Mis go after another revolution of sorts with the Grace O'Malley story. The idea was fabulous: it's a great story with pirates and an excuse to use Irish music and dancing. But while the music never stops, it was neither catchy nor brilliant, and unlike Les Mis, they had a very hard time fitting in what they wanted to without it feeling like the story was crammed and rushed and lacked build-up. In fact, the second act seemed more of a let-down than a culmination or arc. BUT... the production value was incredible. The scenery and the dancing and the voices and the most talented ensemble I've seen possibly ever. My mom kept complaining about things like the staginess of the dancing and other aspects that are inherent in a musical, so I said, "Yeah, and that sonnet was too formulaic." I thought I was ever so clever with that one.

Sunday I only had to work the first show and, despite the "final dress rehearsal" being a stop-and-go mess to which I brought E, everyone said the show was wonderful. I had plans to hang out with NBF after work, but this was my only chance to see it as I'd be working (or at my improv class) every other performance until the run ended. NBF said he'd want to see it if with me if I could get comp tickets, so I told him I'd call him to let him know. I got the tickets and left him a voice mail saying as much. BL forgot that I was going to see the show and roped me in to help her at the bar when it was crazy-crowded with people from the upcoming mainstage production and I'd texted NBF with the message "Call me re:food" because I hadn't had time to eat anything and the show was starting very soon and I'd hoped he would pick something up on his way. When he did call me back I was up to my eyeballs in drink orders so I called him back like 2o minutes later and asked how close he was to showing up. "Um...not" was his response. He apparently never got my voice message and when he saw the text thought we were just going to get food when I was done working. But I had actual physical tickets for us and they get very mad if you don't use your comp tickets and I wanted to see the show so I told him to get to the theater as fast as he could ("I'll pay for a cab! Just get here!") and I escaped the bar as they made the first call for seating and ran to get food and scarfed down said food while waiting for NBF to show up and we missed the first 15-20 minutes but he arrived and the show was wonderful and he was being wonderful and I went from homicidal to happy by the time I got home.

Monday I ran errands and slept and watched TV. A too short but necessary break.

Tuesday I worked a double shift. It was a very long day, though not a bad one as I had my first ever shift by myself in the bar (which didn't go so well but I like it quite a bit better) and then BL and I ran errands for work on the clock and got lunch at SUC's sushi restaurant and BL drove me home at the end of the night. About five minutes before the end of the late show's intermission one of the moms from the school that fired me came up to buy water. She was my favorite mom, always really warm and a great parent, and she adored me, too, constantly telling me as much. Apparently, she never knew I'd been fired. She thought I'd just decided not to come back. I managed to get through the story without crying, but as I told her that people that never met me organized a campaign to email and call in for my removal, she said she wished she'd known because she'd have called in my favor. That got the tears flowing. And of course the more she told me I was wonderful and that they were stupid for getting rid of me the more I cried. She got my phone number to babysit if I'm ever not working (I really liked her kid, too).

The fact that I got so emotional made me realize that there's a big difference between getting past something and getting over it. Just a thought.

Then yesterday I had my second double shift in a row because Tina had a root canal Tuesday and was still dead. I'd set everything up for myself the night before and the morning went fine, though I didn't get a chance to eat anything beyond a nutragrain bar and a bag of Sun Chips until almost 5 PM. My stomach was cranky but there's only junk food within quick break distance of the theater so I ended up eating chicken selects while running around making coffee and setting up the bar for BL whose bus passed her by coming from the King Tut exhibit at the Field Museum. My body started falling apart during the pre-show sales, and you know the rest (or you could know it by reading my last entry).

It is good I keep so much soup in the house.

drunk with sickness

I feel drunk. Yesterday at work I was fine and then I very quickly disintegrated into a mess of nausea and flashing lights. I camped out in the bathroom but didn't puke, managed to run intermission with a smile (though the whole thing was kind of a blur) and then made it into and out of my cousin-in-law's car. I barely managed to not puke until she stopped to let me off at my apartment, then barfed all over the dead grass by the stop sign at the corner. The night was miserable, with me trying to eat a few rice chex so I'd have something in my stomach and then rapidly puking them back up. Very bad pain in my stomach and all of the muscles in my body ached and throbbed. I finally kept down a little soup this afternoon and in the last few hours got the chex to actually stick (though my body isn't thrilled with them, still), but all I can do is sleep and dream crazy dreams and when I'm awake I feel dizzy and drunk. Like there are a number of things on TV that I just can't decide between to watch and it's all just too much so I'll probably go back to sleep. Everything seems like too much for my mind to handle right now. I can concentrate on very singular specific tasks, but an easy sudoku puzzle proved too difficult. Anything that requires thinking and not just doing. I would fail a sobriety test right now, I think. Is it the migraine? or is the migraine a result of some virus or whatever it is that has me throwing rocks at death's door? I wish I had ginger ale or Smart Water or something more liquid and caloric. Fuck this. I'm going back to bed. There are things from the past several days I need to write about, but clearly it's not going to happen when I'm still this broken.

I'll put in links and pictures later. It's too confusing now (I keep starting and forgetting what I'm doing...creepy...)

zxcvbnm

My sister is a bitch, my whole family is hyper-critical.

I can't sleep. I'm feeling manic again. Too many ideas in the head and I want to run a marathon but I can't seem to concentrate myself enough to even write about The Pirate Queen, which I saw tonight with my family. What's the opposite of a laser beam? Hmm...

splendid

Another woman was raped in my neighborhood. This time two blocks from me on my street. That's it, I'm buying a gun.

Ungratefulness and Thanksgiven

From the Department of What's Wrong With This Picture: after my whole talk with my mom about how it's ok for me to be unhappy, tonight she declared that I'm not allowed to tell her that I'm unhappy without including a "look on the bright side"statement because it stresses her out too much. Ok. So I can't complain to my mother about things in my life because it makes her unhappy? I'm right that this is ridiculous, no? That between her being the mom (not to mention a professional therapist) and it being my life we're talking about, I'm not being completely selfish and narcissistic in wanting to react to it in the way that is natural and honest to me? I remember when I first came out of the depression closet, my mom told me that I didn't need to be so protective of her feelings and that she wasn't as fragile as I thought she was. Bullshit. At the time she said it, I believed her, but Sweet Mother of Pearl was I ever right in the first place. I was glad to have NBF there for perspective and support. In retrospect I feel a bit bad I wasn't concerned with him having a decent time, but he can hold his own and I suppose, like my mother, my ThoughtfulVision substantially narrows when I'm under stress.

Dear God, please don't let me turn into my mother

Otherwise, Thanksgiving was fine. Lots of good food and a few drinks to take the edge off (yeesh, I sound like an alcoholic) and everything turned out just dandy.

HDS is coming tomorrow! Yay! It's been far too long since I've seen her. I don't know what we're going to do or where or when, but things will work themselves out, I am sure.

Dear Dog,

I love you but you smell. Get in the fucking bath. No, do not nip at me when I try to pick you up because you can sense my ulterior motives. You need to be clean and handsome and presentable for Thanksgiving.

Love,
Mommy.

a little ramble

It is very hot in my apartment. I seem to be able to digest solid foods, now, though my stomach is still sore from its earlier retching.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Just like every year, I will spend it at my parents' house. My sister is in from school in California and brought a friend, and NBF is coming, too, for lack of anyplace else to spend the holiday. He asked me the other day what my family does for Christmas, but we are Jews, so I imagine he will have to spend December 25th crying alone under the mistletoe. Poor NBF. As for tomorrow's other guests, this year will be very small. Just my immediate family, my aunt, and two of her three children. One of them is among my most favoritest cousins, but the other is kind of shallow and super JAPpy, and this is my aunt I frequently find difficult. NBF wanted to bring his dog, but with my dog there, it would be a disaster of barking and growling. Still, I feel a bit guilty because his dog is much friendlier than mine (my sister suggested I leave my dog and only bring his), but it's my parents' house and my dog never gets to run around except when we go to their yard and I've been so effing busy lately with work that we haven't been in ages and he's getting cooped up in my apartment way too much. Yes, I am just rambling to assuage my own guilt.

ASSUAGE is an anagram for SAUSAGE and every time I type the former word I think about the latter.

jinx

I totally jinxed myself. I'm not at work because my stomach is being stupid and rejecting food every way it knows how. Come on, tummy, what's your problem with corn flakes? They should not be so difficult to digest. I was throwing up a lot in my dreams last night, too. Not good for the day before Thanksgiving.

I don't want to

I don't want to go to work tomorrow. Can I please quit yet? I'm getting more promo offers. I was at the theatre tonight with E to see the "final dress rehearsal" of the play that's going up on the main stage tomorrow at 1. It was very not final or dressed, so we went upstairs and caught the second act of the studio show. I'm already PMSed and cranky and I don't want to go to work tomorrow. I'm doing my first bar shift by myself, and that might be fun if I wasn't so completely dreading going in. There are many funny things to be said about the rehearsal we witnessed tonight, but I am too cranky to be witty. I liked my three days off. I'm happy to have somewhere to go tomorrow, but I don't want to go to work. This calls for a temper-tantrum.

Pig, Dog, Sloth

Apparently I am the "messiest bartender ever." I always have a penchant for pigginess, but I think my spilling and my using the surfaces designated for clean glasses as my "work space" have more to do with my height than my porcine inclinations. You see, we are supposed to pour all drinks on the bar. For normal-sized people, this is no big deal as the bar hits them somewhere lower- to mid-torso. For me, the bar is chest-high. This means I am pouring drinks with my elbows raised up to my ears. It is much less comfortable and much harder to do than were I a few inches taller. Thus, my propensity for spills. The surface at a more natural height for my drink preparations is meant only for clean glasses and the vat of ice. More than once BL has stopped me from trying to prep drinks over the ice vat. Spilling here could be catastrophic (or at least a pain in the ass), and when there is sticky residue around the "clean" glasses, no one is happy. But it's just so much easier. I never used to think of my size as a handicap, but in this job, it seems to be. Aside from the bar height, I have to push these big stupid carts back and forth all the time and they are bigger and heavier than I am and people laugh at me as I struggle past them. The first few times it was funny (little girl, big cart) but now it's just rude and frustrating. If my shoes don't have good treads, my feet slip on the carpeting and the cart goes nowhere. When the carts have to go upstairs, I additionally have to lift them over the rut in the elevator. This frequently results in failure and me getting stuck with the elevator yelling at me and/or crap spilling out on both sides of the closing elevator doors. I hate it. I also seem to sell far less alcohol than the other bartenders. I always suggest alcoholic alternatives to people's drinks, but I'm beginning to wonder if they just don't order booze because I look too young to sell it.

Saturday night was the show closing party with open bar for all theatre employees. BL mostly left me to my own devices, cleaning up in back while staying available for my "What goes into a ____?" and "What glass do I put ____ in?" questions. I learned how to make all things martini-related and got decent at estimating liquid quantities quite early on. I also got to invent random drinks for people, which is very fun, though I didn't get so much as a sip myself for fear I'd pass out the second alcohol touched my tongue. We didn't get out of there until 2:30 AM and had to split cabs because the buses no longer ran by the theatre, but I made $50 in tips behind the bar plus $16 in tips from earlier plus 7 1/2 hours of work (a few of which should put me at overtime), so the money was finally worthwhile.

But huzzah! I am on day 2 of my three days off! Yesterday my dog woke me up around 10 to go for a walk, so we went out briefly and I went back to bed. I woke up again around 3. Clearly, I needed the sleep. I took a long hot shower and shaved and moisturized and did all the other beauty regimen things I've been neglecting. E and I went for dinner and drinks and gab to a bar in Lincoln Square and it was lovely except I crashed before 9. Apparently 11 hours of sleep wasn't enough. I was back in my bed and asleep by 10, straight through until this morning.

Today has been dedicated to getting my to-do list to-done. My fridge is restocked with milk and OJ and my freezer is completely packed with frozen dinners for the weeks to come. If I get up early enough tomorrow I'm getting my car's oil changed and all checked out and happy for winter, and no matter what I have to get some laundry done before my double-shift at work on Wednesday. Tonight I fully intend to watch television, which is something I haven't done in weeks. When leisure time is so limited, it's hard to figure out how much to allocate to getting shit done and how much to rest. I need a chart.

vexed

Things vexing me at the moment:

1. Morning
2. My dog
3. My untouched to-do list
4. 2 and 3's negative influence on my ability to sleep through 1.

Such a long day ahead...

benefits

I just discovered the main benefit of working at a bar: if you are not working until close and still have an ounce of energy at the end of the night, you are at a bar and you can drink whatever you want for free. I made a few concoctions that were very tasty and girly and suddenly the world isn't such a terrible place. Also I got to talk with some of the boys I normally just make eyes at from behind the bar. I do not understand the strange power held by Cute Boys, but it is undeniable.

Tina's granddaughter came to work tonight. She's eight and fabulous and helped us out all night. Tina sent her up to the studio theatre floor because the "princesses" run through the lobby fairly regularly during the show and she wanted to see the "princesses." We went back stage and found one of the lead girls and I told her Tina's granddaughter wanted to meet the princesses so she took us into the dressing room and they were all dolled up and friendly (it's a very nice cast) and Tina's granddaughter was completely thrilled. It was really sweet. I like kids. Those of you who've known me for a long time are probably snickering, but shut up. I've grown up and now I like children.

Really bad drag is mostly just sad.

Frozen dinners vary considerably in quality. I've become a big fan of Stouffer's rigatoni pasta with white meat chicken and am also impressed with the Lean Cuisine Baked Chicken. But then the Stouffer's Monterey Chicken and Michelina's Lean Gourmet creamy parmesan chicken are airline food at best. When I come home after midnight and just want something quick, easy, and delicious, how's a girl like me supposed to know the good from the bad before trying them all? Such a complicated existence I lead.

Maybe if you just shoot me in the head a little bit

12 hour shift yesterday. 12 hour shift today. No day off until Sunday. I like the people. I keep telling myself that. The people are good. Quality time with my cousin-in-law. Went out to lunch with BL at this fantastic soup place. Chicken dumpling in a bread bowl. Best shit ever. Between that and the El I spent all my tips for the day, but it was worth it, and BL gave me a ride home at the end of the night. Did I mention I like the people? And a lot of them (actors, crew, ushers, etc.) all congregate at the bar at the end of the night, so I'm not just meeting and liking people from my own department, which is good since "my department" consists of myself, BL, Tina, and another woman who works part time I see maybe once a week.

I need to shower. I need to shave. I need to get dressed and get the hell out of here and face another day.

It's OK to be unhappy

I know I can attribute a goodly portion of my depressions past to the feeling that if I'm not happy, I'm doing something wrong or there is something wrong with me. But unhappiness is a perfectly normal part of life, and it stops being so terrible once you learn to accept that it's ok. Like right now, I'm unhappy, but it's ok. My feelings are valid and rational and the thing that's making me so unhappy is likely to not go away for a few more months and so I may be miserable for a few more months. Crying and complaining are healthy reactions.

It's official: I hate my job. I was trying very hard not to declare this prematurely, but it has me cranky and miserable. I'm just so tired all the time but without ever feeling like I've done something. There's no sense of accomplishment ever but I go home sore and unhappy, and I feel like I'm stuck, so that makes it even worse. I still like my boss and my crazy co-worker and seeing my cousin, but I'm completely burnt out and it's only been three weeks and I'm counting down the days until January. I feel like I'm always having to do 12 things at once and if I stop to take a breath I won't be ready for whatever thing I have to do next and it gets treated like the end of the world when it's just not that important. I'm selling theatre-goers food and drinks. Big friggin' deal. But from the moment I get there to the moment I leave it's RUN RUN RUN RUSH RUSH RUSH and customers are rude and annoyed and return my plastered-on smile with scowls and a sense of entitlement and leave a mess in their wake and don't tip. And now I'm getting all these promo invitations for things that pay $14, $17, and $25 an hour that I can't do because I'm scheduled to work for $8 an hour and we're already understaffed and I don't want to screw over my co-workers because they, too, are overworked and underpaid and they're the ones I like. And now that I backed out of the promo from last weekend and have to turn down all these offers I'm less likely to get work from them in the future. It just seems ridiculous that I'm stuck working 40 hours a week doing something I hate when I could work like 16 hours doing something I enjoy and get the same money. I know the promo work is inconsistent and can't be counted on, but at least I wasn't crying on the El ride home and unable to do the things I actually care about, like writing. Like I'm almost glad I haven't heard back from the Playboy people because I wouldn't have time to do anything for the article right now. I haven't touched any of it since I started the bartending job. I spent most of today asleep and it wasn't enough. And this whole thing is just so frustrating because I was unemployed for so long and it's good and important that I am making money again but the promo stuff was just starting to make me money, too, and it didn't make me hate my life. And even if the promo stuff made me double the money, my mom is much happier with me having a consistent job. I am not much happier, but when the things that she thinks should make me happy don't, she has a very hard time comprehending the situation. I talked to her on the phone tonight and she started commenting on how I just like complaining because I didn't like being unemployed but I now I'm complaining about my job. I fell apart. But when she tried her standard "Look on the bright side/these are the reasons you shouldn't be glum/I will invalidate your feelings now" thing, I stopped her and said "Can you please just say 'that sucks' and let it be ok that it sucks?" At first she tried to fight me on it, but I reminded her of our conversation the other day about how sometimes things will suck and you'll have to do them and live through them, anyway, and that's OK. You don't have to pretend they're "not so bad" or try to ignore the sucky parts. They are entitled to suck and you are entitled to be unhappy. I don't know if she understood or internalized any of it, but at least she shut up.

I so don't want to have to be at work in 11 hours. Shoot me.

More Or Less Harried

My apartment is hot and dry. Outside is cold and wet. Perhaps if I stick half my body out the window, it will all average out to some kind of comfortable.

Yesterday was NBF's birthday. Happy birthday, NBF! He had to be at class until I had to be at work until it was no longer his birthday, and he's a total morning person (and yet I'm still friends with him!) so I kidnapped him at sunrise and we went down to Navy Pier and I brought a tiny bottle of decent champagne and a fruit tart (which we didn't eat) and party hats and Minnie Mouse "Happy Birthday" plates and napkins for a little party. Then I took him to breakfast before we parted ways for him to go to school and me to go to the El to get back home and sleep. It was very early and he'd actually been out until 2 AM the night before (which he never does and I'd warned him I was picking him up at 6 AM) but the sheer ridiculousness of the whole thing won out and it was totally fun and he was properly amused, so all in all it was a success. In theory we're going for massages this morning before my improv class, but he was supposed to leave me a message last night as to the time and place, and I have a feeling he just crashed instead of making appointments, but we'll see. He's also taken to trying to convince me he's imaginary.

I'm getting the hang of things at work (finally!), leaving me much less frustrated at the end of the night. Still exhausting and I still need to find better shoes, but last night my parents were at the show and my cousin-in-law and I were both scheduled for the same spot where we could chat our downtime away. She is completely fabulous and we have the same sense of humor so we think everything we say is hilarious. When my parents came into the bar to find me after their show, Tina*, who is never shy, got all freaked out and sheepish and started to hide in back before I told her to to come meet my parents, at which point she asked "Is my hair ok?" and bounded out to greet them. I like seeing them when I don't see them that much. Small doses. After they left, Tina said my mom was "a knock-out" and "gorgeous" and then lamented the lack of positive parent-child relationships in her family. I have to tell her story on here one of these days. It's amazing.

I would not complain if I no longer had hair anywhere below my neck. I'm so ingrown-prone, it is a pain in my aforementioned neck.



*My wacky 54-year-old grandmother co-worker, henceforth called "Tina" because she was trying to look into the men's bathroom and I called her a "Peeping Tina."

In Decision

I'm scheduled to work at the theatre Thursday and Friday at 5:30 PM and Sunday at 12:30 PM. I make $8 an hour plus mediocre tips. Before I got my November schedule, I said I was available for a promo this upcoming weekend. Saying you're available does not mean you have to confirm if they choose you, so I said I was available. Today while I was at my theatre/bartending job, the promo people called me to say they needed me as an alternate tomorrow through Sunday and could I still do it? I most likely wouldn't have to even go and could get paid for sitting at home. $17 an hour. I checked with BL, since if I ended up needed I'd be late for my shifts at the theatre, but she said it was fine (she's very accommodating) so I called back to say I could be the promo alternate. Tonight I got a voice mail from the promo people saying they needed me. I also got the information for the promotion, which says tomorrow we'd need to be there possibly as late as 10 PM. This would completely screw over my theatre job people, since we're short-staffed as it is. But now that I said I'd do the promo, they're counting on me, too, and screwing them over will seriously hurt my chances of getting work in the future. But screwing over BL etc. is bad because they provide me with the more steady work and income and it's a smaller endeavor and I'm more emotionally attached to them. But $17 an hour. That's awfully hard to turn down for $8 an hour of significantly harder work. So I spent a considerable amount of time and energy trying to figure out a way to do both. This would be possible if I made more work for my theatre job people and just prayed that I'd get everywhere I needed to be in the least amount of time. I'd be completely burned out and/or dead by the end of the weekend and my dog might explode and I'd have to postpone any acknowledgment of NBF's birthday for another week, but I'd stand to make well over $600.

I hate this sort of decision--when my psychological and monetary best interests are at odds with eachother and with more utilitarian inclinations. Greatest good for the greatest number of people. How many utils do the theatre people get versus the promo people? How many utils from earning lots of money versus sleeping and having time to socialize? I want to quantify, but it's just not that simple.

So I called BL. After a brief discussion and her trying to figure out how to make it work for me with panic* in her voice, I declared "fuck it" to the promo. It's early in the morning and I'm burning out as it is and the people that would have to take my slack work too hard as it is and I may not always be a good person but this is the "right" thing to do. Even if I am tempted to screw over BL etc. and just skip out on any interfering hours and roll around in my $17 an hour.

That's enough of that rambling. I got 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night because I got home after 1 and went to bed after 2 and then randomly woke up at 6 and couldn't fall back asleep. I was a zombie all day and now I can't sleep again. So I'm drinking a beer. Maybe not the best solution, but I'm sick of coming up with solutions to problems that don't really matter but stress me out anyway. I need better stress-management skills. I've gotten good at stress-avoidance in recent years, but I need to know what to do with issues I can't avoid or defuse. Hmm.

*panic's too strong a word...more like an undercurrent of "oh fuck, well, I'll try my hardest to help Annabell but this will make life significantly more difficult"

Elections, Exhaustion, and Gift-Giving

I am a lousy American; I didn't vote yesterday. I was planning to vote, and even researched some of the more obscure office candidates, but between doing laundry, sleeping, and going to work, I just ran out of time. I live across the street from my polling place. There's no excuse. I am a bad American.

But even without me the Good Guys won and the better guys (a number of Green Party candidates were on the ballot for statewide offices) still got a chunk of votes. Pennsylvania finally outed fuckface Satorum, and Sherrod Brown (who, from what I know about him, I like very much) won Ohio. While Cook County's board presidency went to the corrupt son of the corrupt former seat-holder, his Republican rival spent last night proving himself possibly even more corrupt [check this shit out], so I suppose the lesser of two evils is preferable.

I'm exhausted. I got home "early" last night around 1 since two people closing the bar makes it go much faster. Much of my body aches and I was too worn out to get a good night's sleep (if that makes any sense). I randomly woke up at 6 AM and couldn't fall back asleep. I need to be up for real in two hours to go to a 12 hour double shift. I need better shoes, and fast. NBF is getting himself a massage for his birthday this weekend and invited me to join him, which is a truly brilliant idea considering the current state of my muscle knots. I still have to come up with a gift, but as many of you well know, my presents tend to be late as I'd rather give something good late than something lame on time. Like Birdie's birthday was last week (I failed to post on the 29th so she never got her official "shout out," though I sent her an email and would have called had she not been in a foreign country...Happy Belated Birthday, Birdie!) and I have no idea what her present will be when she returns to The States. HDS's bachelorette gift showed up closer to their one year anniversary. But I do make an effort to come up with things on time, it just doesn't always happen. Any suggestions?


Dammit, I need to get more sleep, but my body doesn't want to let me. Stupid body.

close to home

A woman was apparently almost raped yesterday evening (6 pm-ish) four blocks from my apartment. Not cool.

Oh! The Humanity!

A few weeks ago, my brother hurt his right wrist in soccer. It still hurt, so this week he finally went to have it checked out. It's broken, and he has to be in a cast for three months. He's right handed. Now, he's sick, too, complete with feaver and chills. If he's not careful, he will soon replace me as Family Member Most Likely To Be Picked Off By Wolves. Poor kid.

After work last night my boss and I went out for dinner. I really like her. It's a little strange hanging out and being friends with both her and SUC so seperately, especially since right now I think I'm spending more awake time with each of them than they are with eachother, and they live together. But they are exceptionally busy people and I happen to be a part of each of their unshared activities. For the month of November, I will see one of the other of them at least 24 of the 30 days. Crazy.

At work yesterday patrons were being cranky. We were out of decaf coffee and you'd think we were out of oxygen rations or something. It was crazy. Then I ran out of regular coffee and the world ended. I have trouble not taking things personally and blaming myself for any and all unhappiness in the world. I think I took my father's aphorisms a little too far. His cries for "personal responsibility" and "look before you leap" and all the common sense things that messing up means you're an idiot. I forget that it's ok to make mistakes and that they are not automatically the result of me not being smart enough. Thank goodness for the handful of fabulous people who made comments like "It's only coffee, don't worry about it" and the patron who actually went to the main bar and brought me back a pot of coffee without anyone asking or suggesting it. He was so sweet about it, too. People like that are amazing. They're the ones who remind me that humanity doesn't suck, and I don't suck for being human.

I do a little bit suck for not having done the things I was going to do today. So perhaps my big laundry day will become a load of blacks and undies so I won't have to be naked at work this coming week. I just have to get off my ass and actually do that. I'm on a bit of a down-swing. Someone at work was talking about the full moon and "Mercury in retrograde" and how that means we're all out of whack. I'd rather blame daylight savings and my parents, but whatever it is, it's indeed whack. I did get one big huge thing done that I've been putting off for a very long time, so that's a big monkey off my back. Take that, monkey!

gay clubs are fun if I'm drunk enough

Drunk and dancing and entertained but I wasn't going to get drunk but I only drank two of my own and then other person's drinks kept ending up in my hands and down my throat and now I am more drunk than I should be considering my migraine and working tomorrow and such. Also, the encouragement of bad behavior is not appreciated when the behaviorist is too inebraited to be sure it is bad. My hadncuffs broke. Very sad. Quality $2 merchandice. I'm impressed with my own ability to write right now. Maybe it's like breathing where the automatic shit takes over. I'm very proud of NBF for staying up so long, but ashamed of myself for not being better behaved when I'm in a migraine cycle and needing to be at work by 12:30 tomorrow. Line up the waters 'cause I'm gonna need some serious hydration in a few hours. I need to burp a lot right now. Burp burp burp. Good sushi for dinner. Then alcohol. Now burp. Oh dear lord I better be ok tomorrow. I need to hire a babysitter.

un-fussy

I wrote a cranky post last night and then my internet spazzed and I lost it. Probably for the best, since I was migrainey and had to work anyway and was ruing my jump from unemployment to full-time fast-paced new skill set job. A good night's sleep and a fun day of improv class (I was sucking big-time for the first half of class, but usually I'm worst at freeze-tag and today was one of my best freeze-tagging days, so that was encouraging) and the world is back in perspective. It's good to make money and this is the sort of job that will get significantly easier once I'm used to it and don't have to go over the check lists 36 times and run like crazy to get things done in a timely fashion. My tips are already a high percentage of my sales and I like having both the paycheck money and the cash money. I will never go to the ATM again. And I like my co-workers and my boss, which is always important. I just need to stay away from the computer when I come home tired and fussy.

work it, baby

Yay tips. I made lots in tips tonight, even though I was working by the smaller theatre that gets less business. At least for now, I kind of like it better because it's ok that I'm slow and I'm good at being friendly when I'm slow and not so good at being friendly when I'm rushing around trying to do shit like a crazy person. Then I helped BL in the bar again and I officially do not get along with the Bass tap because it just wants to be all heady and I say "NO! Stop that!" and it says "Ha! Fuck you! Have more head!" and I try all of the tricks one uses to diminish beer head and still it laughs and then three more people order Bass drafts and I die a little bit on the inside. Still, it was fun and I'm learning a lot.

Tomorrow I wasn't originally scheduled to work but BL was cutting fruit and instead sliced off the tip of her finger (I feel faint just thinking about it) so she's going to the doctor tomorrow to get pill-berries and newts tails so she can grow extra fingers while the gimpy one heals.

In case I don't already own enough pairs of shoes, I now really need better shoes for work. They must be cute and go with all of my black clothing I must wear (including skirts, because I get very tired of the same two pairs of black pants but I don't really want to buy more black pants and I have many black skirts) and they must be extremely comfortable and I would very much like them to have a heal but that's not a requirement.

My dog is not particularly thrilled with my return to the workforce. When I am home, he is even clingier than normal*. Like he is in my lap right now while I sit at the computer. He used to be content to sit at my feet, but now he paws his way into my lap and then keeps swatting at my hands as I type because clearly I should be giving him every ounce of my attention now that I am home. He's my sweety and I love him very much, but I'd like to be able to check my email and surf the web for porn without claw marks on my wrists.

I hope I'm not getting a migraine. OK, correction: I know I'm getting a migraine, but I hope I can successfully fight it off. I've been having that slightly drunk/disconnected feeling all day where my head just won't retain information and I feel like some of my synapses are firing randomly into space.

Speaking of neurological misfirings, I don't normally have synesthesia, but my parents got me a contact lens case from MoMA and the right lens cup lid is chartreuse and the left lens cup lid is bright orange and every time I look at it, it seems backwards. The right one should be the orange one. I don't know why, but I feel it rather strongly.

Again with the so tiredness.

*if you can ever call my dog "normal"

strange world

Today I worked the Wednesday Matinee shift, also known as "afternoon of the little old ladies who don't tip." Yee-haw. It somewhat sucked, and I was completely out of it. Probably because I was out last night with my boss and SUC at the North Halsted Halloween parade, which was fabulous. Highlights included drag Madonna pushing a black guy dressed as a baby in a shopping cart, two parents dressed up as farmers with their baby as a pumpkin, an impressive Howie Mandell with really atrocious drag briefcase girls (inside the briefcase labeled "Deal" there was a large dildo, and in the briefcase labeled "No Deal" there was a tiny little dildo), and the silhouetted dancing guy from the iPod commercials. Much fun.

I think I need to start dating. Not that my past dating experiences have been so fabulous (for those of you who know the stories, Applebees and "sweet sweet nectar" is all I have to say), but there has to be a better way to deal with this recent crazy boy-lust phase I'm in.

How long do I wait before contacting Playboy again? Or perhaps I do with them what I think I should do in the boy department - go out in search of other options instead of sitting around holding my breath for the unknown. Yes, that is good advice. I should take it.

Crazy shit: just got IMed by Birdie's internet boyfriend* who couldn't figure out who this random name was on his buddy list, and in trying to figure out who I was we discovered he knows my cousin who lives in Colorado! Random!

*not really, but too much to explain otherwise

Reasons to lock me up

I hate that moment when you're already behind the wheel of your car and you realize you probably shouldn't be. Also, why am I currently in love with everything that so much as resembles a boy? Anybody keen on the alignment of the moon or butterflies flapping their wings in Myanmar? Because it's to damn random to be anything else. Freud warmed up to BL as I drove her and SUC to their apartment after a night of Halloween festivities. Were I the one in charge, I'd totally give her a raise. Then I stopped at two McDonalds on the way home to get two cheeseburgers because I needed them and they were delicious. Think if we slo-mo the instant replay we can pinpoint the exact moment when I lost my mind? It needs to be significantly less cold out.

no comprendo

Things I do not understand:

1. My body
2. My dog
3. Boys

Happy Halloween.

Lyla v. Annabell: Dance of the Misplaced Id

I thought Lyla was Annabell's id. She is not. She is not even close. The act of playing Lyla is an expression of my id, but Lyla is a character. She has no opinions of her own. She is whatever the caller likes and wants. She is a compilation of expectations and stories from things I have read and seen and heard. That's why it doesn't bother me when Lyla shows up in Annabell's life, but it freaks me out when Annabell shows up in Lyla's.

Lyla in Annabell's life is my love for improv and my admitting to an almost academic study of sex an sexuality. Even that was a little scary at first, but once I mastered the art of compartmentalization, Lyla became my funny little hobby. She was something I did, not something I was.

Annabell in Lyla's life is a bit scarier. Certain major components were always there, like my age and looks and fictionalized versions of my non-sexual experiences. But even for my experiences I always have to add in an element of untruth to keep things from getting too personal. And the once or twice my honest-to-god fantasies/kinks popped up, I completely freaked out after the call. I had to give myself a good long whatthefuck before I was ready to be anybody again.

For the phone sex job and my day-to-day sanity, this compartmentalization is probably a good thing. It seems healthy and important to maintaining my double-life project. But it has also created a new problem: I no longer know what Annabell likes and thinks and wants until it pops up in Lyla's narrative and weirds me out. I've done such a good job of suppressing Annabell's id in Lyla's world that I can no longer access it (my id) in my world. It peered out the other night in a nice safe Annabell place and I didn't know what to do with it. I got lost in my head, stuck between Lyla's stories and Annabell's actions and not knowing what were Lyla's versus Annabell's actual desires. I overthought without thinking out and ended up frozen.

The moral of the story? I think Lyla needs a short (hours? days? hopefully less than a week) vacation while I air out Annabell's id. Remember and/or figure out what I want and like and desire. And who knows - maybe being aware of my true id will make for an improved compartmentalized Lyla and an entirely better Me.

All dressed up, no place to go?

Work is exhausting. I got out too late and was too tired to go to see my improv teacher's band playing with my other improv buddies. My legs hurt.

I put together my whole halloween costume today. It's hot shit. I'm quite pleased with myself. I think all those years of Safer Sex Night being right next to Halloween has me eternally combining the two ideas, but then again I've always liked dressing like a ho bag whenever possible. But while this is one of my less creative costume ideas (sexy cop has been way overdone), the true greatness (I am so modest) of this little get-up is in the details. Now I just need somewhere to go and something to do while wearing it. That's one detail I probably should have taken care of sooner.

I am the most tiredest person in the universe.

Straight up, with a twist*

I learned how to bartend! I shadowed SUC's girlfriend (my Boss Lady, henceforth to be called BL) and she taught me all kinds of stuff, like how to make a Long Island Iced Tea and what "with a twist" means and how to deal with the foamy-ass tap and the regular drinks of various cast members and house managers. It was totally fun and she's a great learn-by-doing teacher, which is good because I am a learn-by-doing learner. Earlier in the night I was training with the 54-year-old spunky tough-as-nails grandmother and oldest of 12 children, who his hilarious and cooky as hell. I'm sure she will be a fairly consistent provider of stories because she is a total character. She regularly gets into fights with bus drivers and drinks a bazillion Pepsi's a day and is fascinated by our lesbian co-worker and asks her things like "so do you people have monogamous relationships?" in a genuinely naive way. Oh, there will be stories, I am sure.

It's before 7 AM and I am up because the dog was so itchy/scratchy it woke me up. This is after getting home at 2 AM from work, mind you. He's finally off his antibiotics so I gave him his allergy pill in a bit of hot dog and now he's fast asleep and I'm wide awake. My feet seem to have stopped hurting, which is good because I wore my spiky-healed black boots yesterday and then had to walk a mile in the cold rain to pick up coffee, milk, lemons and limes for the bar (an errand for which I now know better than to volunteer in the future). On my feet all night behind the bars, then another mile back to the El stop at the end of the night because the busses run infrequently at that hour and it was faster to walk than to wait. Spiky heals, I tell you.

Another long night ahead of me, with working again starting at 5:30 and then my improv teacher's band is doing a show at a bar that I'm trying to go to with some of my classmate buddies at 11. On the plus side, I'm definitely more alert (even without coffee, which I'm trying to cut back on again) at this nocturnal job than I ever was when I had to show up before 8 AM. Go go gadget internal clock.

*ok, fine, no twist.

Things thought and found

Boys are distracting. Very, very distracting. Especially when I start craving them, the way I do steak. Yes, male population: you are a piece of meat to me. May I chop you up and eat you now? There is something completely carnal and undeniable about it.

Thing I thought was funny: Ikea Product or Lord of the Rings Character?

Thing I find amazing: The difference between two beers on and empty stomach and two beers on a full stomach. Because two beers should not have me even remotely toasted, and yet...

I shrunk my dog's super-cute hoodie in the dryer and it no longer fits him. So I brought it for NBF's dog and it fit her and she looks like the cutest little thug ever. Sad to give it up, but glad it will be well used by another.

The other morning at lunch my mom said (with tears in her eyes) she finally understands that it's ok for people to hurt and that she's sorry she didn't realize it sooner. That's a huge step for her and I'm very proud. It's weird that I'm several steps ahead of her in the whole self-realization thang, but I've always felt like our roles are reversed and I know she's felt that way with her mother. I suppose it's foolish to assume our parents will be our teachers and much better to think of every generation as an improvement on the last so that humanity can move in a positive direction.

Drunk and doing karaoke on Saturday night. It was fun. I'm baffled by the number of people I know who have done cocaine. I have no desire to try it. Ever. Maybe it's just because I've got my migraines and enough other medical fun shit, but I just don't see the appeal. Not to mention chemical high seems overrated. But karaoke is fun and alcohol is more than enough social lubricant for me. Guys get touchy, but then again so did I. Stupid boys. Why do they have to be so delicious?

My halloween costume is 90% complete. I love Halloween. Any excuse to dress up (preferably slutty) is fine by me.

NBF and I went to the most amazing place on earth the other day: Lost Eras. Two huge floors of costumes and antiques and totally random crap. Like an entire wall of antique fans. Another one of antique radios. A rack of fairy tale costumes. Stacks and stacks of hats, including every era and rank of the military. Unfathomable.

I think I pass out now.

WELCOME HOME, PENELOPE!

Oh, so much writing to make up for...but now I must be off to work!

Cell blog (one entry now that I got to a computer)

I miss my computer very much. I'm writing this on my cell phone. I got sick of making nbf check my email for me, so i paid the $5 for phone internet. Slow typing. Lots going on in my life right now. Paul simon was fantastic and my dad was thrilled and really cute and grateful, especially since i "allowed" him to dance. He has no rhythm so the rest of my family won't let him. Amazing how happy it made him.

I have a new job as a bartender at a major chicago theatre. SUC's girlfriend is my boss. She seems fabulous, and my cousin-in-law works there too. I get to see shows while i'm on the clock, too.

In other employment news, I got $400 worth of Nike gear including Nike+ shoes and a running jacket and fleece pants and a hat and gloves. A lot of the girls were on the fashion police thing, too, but mostly brunettes this time. I got made fun of for using the word "impeccable." total flashback to grade school when my vocabulary was a frequent teasing target. I hate that.

TJ & Dave was amazing last night, though Dave was out of town. A guy from the promo training was there and is apparently involved with 826CHI and is on an improv team. Small world. He's also ridiculously gorgeous. I'm still terribly intimidated by excessively beautiful non-stupid people. It's silly but I am. Like the way people get around celebrities, but I save my stammering for unknown Perfects.

After theg show SUC's friend asked TJ some toolish question about "TJ the improvisor versus TJ the person" and I burst out laughing. Mean, yes, but I couldn't help myself. I ended up having a brief conversation with him about migraines. Pretty self-centered of me to care less about celebrity and more about finding another person with my malady, but we determined my self-obsession long ago.

This is a lot to write on a cell phone. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get to a real computer so I can email playboy. I've been thinking a lot about my thing and a weekly or monthly column/blog is probably the way to go. That way i can talk about submissive calls one week and Lyla vs. Annabell another week and tricks to keep guys on the phone another week and the different ways calls end another week and so on. There are more than enough topics.

My computer had best get its butt back here soon.

I'm going to Graceland

HP and fax machines and Penelope are a collective pain in my butt. I'm at the library right now because that's the only way I had to check my own friggin' email. I do not do well without a computer at home, as I seem to no longer be able to write with a pen and paper.

The playboy.com editor asked to see my blog so I sent him the link, not remembering I had mentioned it/him just a few days ago. I am brilliant. Not that I said anything terrible, but people tend to get on guard (touche!) when you talk about them, no matter what you say.

My dad and I are going to Paul Simon tonight for his birthday. I'm excited. I'm supposed to meet him downstairs in just a few minutes. My stomach is a bit cranky because I fed it Popeyes at around 2 PM. It tastes so delicious and then I regret it within the hour.

Yesterday I spent a long time cleaning and reorganizing my closet. It still looks horrible, but I got a new plastic drawer thing and another multi-tiered skirt hanger, so that should help.

I'm working another promo this week. 24 1/2 hours over four days at $18/hour. Work is good.

Now, I'm going to Graceland.

Sordid and Sorted

I just started the first of my five loads of laundry. I know there will be five because I sorted them into four big piles in the middle of the floor and then one was clearly a double load so I sorted it further. Right now the delicates are already in the wash, then there's a load of bleachable whites, a warm heavy-duty but not bleachable load, a heavy-duty cold load and a regular cold load. I think my laundry behavior is quite indicative of my general feeling towards organization: I like categorizing and sorting as long as it's all over the floor.

Penelope (my computer) is dead. She should be undead in a few days, but the power cord finally became 100% useless and HP didn't have me in their computer as having paid for the 3 year I can hit it with a hammer and it's still covered warranty, so I had to fax my warranty proof of purchase and a bunch of other crap that I fortunately still had and in theory they'll come pick up, fix, and return Penelope good as new.

I'm at my parents house for the next three days but without my parents. My brother is 17 years old but because he is not 18 my mother thinks I have to be around as a legal adult. I think that's stupid. I'd be happy to be here to keep him company, but this is all just further proof that my mother needs to think of her children as incapable of functioning on their own. And she's all friggin' worried about us, too, like that my brother won't wake up in the morning or do his homework. Fortunately, he's all for proving to her that he's better off without her nagging and reminding him to do things every five minutes, so he plans to get all his work done and even get ahead and then leave it in a nice neat pile with a smiley face post-itted on top while he's out with his friends when they get home. I think it's brilliant.

In the less-than-brilliant category, I left my flash drive at my apartment and I'd made a pact with one of my improv class friends that we'd turn in our Triumphant College Return applications by Saturday and my essay crap is all on there. Grrr.

It is absolutely freezing here. Red, my dog and I went to my brother's soccer game this afternoon and it started snowing. I had my dog layered in a sweater and his fleece-lined coat and he was still all shivery. I'm a terrible doggie mama.

bewildered

My dad is dense on the outside; my mom is dense on the inside. I love her, but I find her infinitely frustrating. She is a waffle.

And speaking of waffles and things that perplex me, Boys. That is all I have to say.

dog paw

Happy birthday to my dad. Not that he reads this, but still.

I'd left tonight clear of plans so I could go out for my dad's birthday, but my brother has a date and his girlfriend can't do anything tomorrow night so the birthday festivities are being postponed. I was annoyed, since I did have plans for tomorrow, but now they'll just have to end early. I was on the phone kvetching about such things when I saw my dog's paw. Big icky cyst/boil thing between his front two toes. It's huge and gross. I freaked out and called the vet and we were there and being seen in less than an hour. The vet looked at it and x-rayed it and poked it with a needle for the biopsy. After poking it it started oozing and I now have dog blood on my jeans. They had to throw me out because my dog was spazzing (understandable, I must say) and they thought it might be easier if I wasn't in the room. They also did all his regular annual vet things while we were there since he's due in about two months anyway. Now, he's got one of those collar things on so he can't lick his paw and twice a day antibiotics for the next two weeks and I've got a $371 bill. Ack. I just keep telling myself it includes all his vaccinations and heartworm tests and whatnot, but holy shit. I need to do the dog insurance thing. I know my particular vet is very expensive, too, but they're really good with him, and he's my baby.

I watched Heathers last night. Crazy, crazy movie, but I enjoyed it immensely.

computer, email, aquarium

Today I only left my apartment to walk the dog. That was dumb. I did get a few things done, but I get stir-crazy. My computer is being stupid again with the power cord not staying properly so I either have to hold it or get it "just so" and then leave it to charge. It's making me a bit nuts, but I don't want to call HP until I've backed everything up and I can't back everything up until I get a flash drive, so the real solution is to get a flash drive, but that is expensive and I'm hoping to get my phone sex check first. Almost $200. Then the Fashion Police check for almost $600 should follow shortly. Then I can monetarily breathe a bit again.

Exciting email I just got: the writer/improver girl from the fashion police gig knows a playboy.com editor and offered to "hook me up." I already responded with the official "hell yes," as that would be a very good way to start publishing my phone sex schtick. Sure, it's not the New Yorker, but Playboy (even .com) is pretty damn good and perhaps more up the topical alley, and I could probably use it as a jumping-off point for turning it into a book if I so desire. I don't want to jinx anything, but this feels like things falling into place, or at least something in the right direction.

Last night E and I went to the aquarium open house and it was awesome and we got to pet a shark and see the baby beluga (which is now kind of shedding and gross looking, but it's still cool) and look at all sorts of behind-the-scenes stuff and watch them feed caiman lizards and the anaconda and I am the biggest dork ever. It's funny, I don't even like fish that much, but I love the aquarium. I really do. It makes me giddy.

My scalp is all itchy. No dandruff, but itchy. Any suggestions?

Weekend

Saturday was the last day of the second session of my improv class. BB and the girl who annoys me so much do not plan to enroll in the next level. I am exceptionally pleased. BB had moved from my annoyance list to my pity list weeks ago as his inability to comprehend started frustrating him more than anyone else, but it was getting painful to watch. More than once he looked like he was going to cry. He'd hit a wall and wasn't about to make it through. The scenes between him and the Slayer-obsessed Nazi enthusiast (the real characters are the ones I could never make up) were the worst. Like autistics trying to make love. But never again.

After class the usual improv crew went to SUC's restaurant and ate sushi and drank and say around for hours. It was delightful. As the conversation ventured into the realm of sex, I found myself having a lot of trouble participating in the discussion. Phone Sex Girl couldn't talk about sex. But it's a topic about which I've gotten so used to making up random shit that I've become completely uncomfortable with the truth. It's much more fun to play the sexual dynamo without regard to reality or consequence. My relatively inexperienced self doesn't know what to say among friends. Bah.

We eventually dispersed and I met up with NBF. More drinking ensued, as did pizza. NBF had run the breast cancer 5K that morning and is already about 3K from being a night person, so at 11:30 PM he'd crashed and was ready to go home. I was not. I was wide awake and hadn't been out in days, so I called around and SUC said he had to close his restaurant but that I should come and hang out at the bar there. So I did. More alcohol and social interaction, and then I loomed around the restaurant office while he did all the official closing stuff. I'm sure the booze helped, but the company was good and I had a strangely fabulous time just talking. I got home around 3:45 AM. By the end of the night, I'd spent approximately 10 hours drinking. Not that I'd had so much, but it was like a slow IV drip of alcohol and I have the tolerance of an 8-year-old.

Woke up at like 8:30 AM extremely thirsty. I drank water and wrote that thing about "the grave burden that comes with having too much in our heads for our tender hearts to bear" and went back to sleep. Around 1 I answered the phone rather startled. Apparently Him had called four times. Even without alcohol I am a sound sleeper, so you can imagine how out of it I was. According to Him we were supposed to meet for brunch around 12 or 1. I recall no such setting of the time, but who knows. And what does he want for his birthday lunch? Mexican food. I was completely out of it and unable to make decisions beyond "I want coffee." I'm sure I was a fabulous conversationalist. And nothing is quite so fabulous after a night of boozing as raw onions and salsa. Really stupid. I didn't throw up, but that was a small miracle.

I got home with just enough time to change, throw things in my backpack, grab the dog, and head to my parents' for pre-Yom Kippur dinner. Thankfully, it was all extremely easy to digest. Kol Nidre services were long but good. I like this rabbi. He talked about love and the importance of community and human relationships. He's not a great speaker, but everything he says is completely heartfelt. I like that.

Monday we got to Yom Kippur services really early (like pre-Torah service with all the daily minioners and uber-frummies) and my stomach decided it was going to be cranky, so I left early and went home and crashed.

We went to my aunt's for break-fast, as we do every year, along with my aunt's two best friends and their families. We were supposed to get there at 6. We walked in the door at 6:04 and everybody was already eating. Conversations included the "right" way to put on a tie, how $750 is such a good price for getting your hair straightened by people you trust that it's worth getting a cheap plane ticket to New York City, my cousin's lopsided backhair, and single-cup coffee makers. My brother weaseled his way out of coming this year, so I was the youngest person there, but we're finally at a point in our lives that the 4-9 years isn't such a big deal. But these people (my cousins as well as their friends) live these lives of obscene wealth and privilege. That's where I feel the most different, even though I'm currently being supported by Mommy and Daddy, too. Some are still fabulous people. Some are not. But while my mother tends to have no tolerance for the people in her generation, I'm getting much better at accepting the Shiny Happy thing for the few requisite hours.

The weather was terrible and when I tried to drive home I discovered even the bigger roads were flooded, so I gave up and spent another night at my parents'. My dad came downstairs around midnight, unable to sleep. We ended up doing the Chicago Tribune Sudoku until 1:30 AM. Stupid, but exceptionally cute. Yay for daddy bonding time.

Today, I forgot to take my pills and didn't realize it until around 7 PM when the withdrawal symptoms started kicking my ass. Now I'm awake from having taken them too late in the day but I'm still feeling the weird-headedness of the withdrawal. Stupid Effexor.

At some point when we were at my parents' my dog actually got onto my parents' bed and licked my dad's face. For any of you who know my dog, this is huge.