Tuesday, October 31, 2006

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.

Monday, October 30, 2006

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.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

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.

Friday, October 27, 2006

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.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

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.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

WELCOME HOME, PENELOPE!

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

Thursday, October 19, 2006

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.

Monday, October 16, 2006

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.

Friday, October 13, 2006

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.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

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.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

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.

Friday, October 06, 2006

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.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

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?

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

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.

Monday, October 02, 2006

An unfortunate ark

Thunder storm. Streets are flooded. I'm stuck at my parents' for the night. Blech. I don't sleep well here.

That is all.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Reflection*


I get so excited when I find people "like me:" my fellow analytic creative brooding types. We're the hyper-self-critical misfits who think things to death and live inside our heads but then feel everything too strongly. We're loners out of ego and self-preservation. Except every single one of my real friends has some degree of this quality. The Boys I've liked since I was 5 were all more extreme cases. That's my "type." I used to just call it "a hint of melancholy," but it's more than that. It's the grave burden that comes with having too much in our heads for our tender hearts to bear. Ay me!

So why do I seek out people "like me?" Is it the need to be understood and the satisfaction of understanding someone else? Or something more egotistic, lining these people up like a hall of mirrors?

On an unrelated note, Happy 25th Birthday, Him! I distinctly remember his 14th birthday and thinking 14 sounded so old. Now 25 doesn't sound or feel old, but it's that whole quarter-century mark that seems substantial.

Mmm...granola bar...

*corniest post title ever
 

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