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