Pee Day Ramble

Today was Pee Day. My dog christened it by peeing all over the back porch stairs (that don't get rained on so I had to clean them on my hands and knees, which was just awesome for my dizzy bullshit). I then spent the day peeing into a jug and cleaning my hellaciously messy life and feeling like crap and sleeping. It started raining this evening, so that may have contributed to why I felt so awful all day, but it made cleaning the house harder. Still, I almost completely unearthed the futon in my office/spare bedroom/world's biggest closet; I just have to figure out what I'm doing with all of the alphabet blocks still spread out in order across the bedspread. Then there's the rest of the room, which is coming along (I found a good chunk of the floor) but remains more closet than living space. We're having a condo-wide yard sale on the 29th and it would be so much more convenient if it were, say, last weekend and all the extra shit in my life already disappeared, replaced by money, but no such luck. Instead, I have to try to clean with the sale in mind, organizing things enough that next week is somewhat easier and I don't spend the entire time trying to re-sort everything all over again.

I looked up the weather for the wedding and it's going to be a high of 60 degrees. This means I have to figure out my coat options, which should be no big deal but at the moment feels like one. more. thing. I'm way too nervous about this wedding, or, more accurately, seeing people at this wedding. I don't know how I'm going to get along with the people I haven't spoken to in years who were once my closest friends, and it terrifies me. They used to mean so much and I'm not sure how to take our relationships, past or present, and I'm trying to be as optimistic about it as possible but now that I can't just get shitfaced and have everyone declare everything happy and fine (since I still can't drink) I'm not sure anymore how I most hope things will turn out (a sober mutual declaration of "All is forgiven, all bad is forgotten, we're cool" is a hell of a lot harder and less socially acceptable somehow), I'm not sure what the best possible outcome would be. Without knowing what to wish for, I have trouble calming myself down with optimistic happy thoughts. But the wedding itself should be my happy thought. My friend who's getting married deserves to be happy so. much. And I'm now driving up with Birdie, which means two hours of quality Birdie time I didn't think I'd have. That's a big happy thought. I'm just being Captain Negativity and dwelling on the parts that have me freaked out. I just don't know what people will think when they see me 20 lbs heavier, the only one single, and half-broken by migraines with some new weird malady that's got me peeing in jugs. At least I haven't lost my sense of humor. Or my depression. I had that when I knew them, and they loved me then. I have lost the chip on my shoulder, but I think I could use it right about now because it was a nice protective coating. Still, I have to remember that it's not like this weekend is about me anyway and everybody will be coming with their own shit, too. Maybe we're all fat now. Is it terrible that I kind of hope The Former Boy is fat? I do. I really do.

Enough rambling about that.

It's a little funny that I'm going to a wedding considering I spent Friday wanting to jump a married man. We're friends and we have a really fantastic time together, but he's married so my crushing is useless. Why do I torture myself?

Effexor withdrawal is the worst thing in the universe, genocide be damned.

Prozac withdrawal seems to be not so much terrible as floaty fluffy weird.

Why am I going through Prozac withdrawal? Because after my pharmacy spent 6 days calling my psychiatrist for an authorization on the refill and I blew through my three day emergency supply, and then called my dear darling shrink myself on a Friday evening, hoping to inspire some sense of urgency, it wasn't until 10 PM that he finally sent me a text message saying no more or less than "Prozac called in." The pharmacy at my Walgreens closes at 10. It opens tomorrow morning at 9. I went online to check me account, and they still have the thing "pending physician approval," but if I'm the first thing they see when they open, maybe I can be drugged and not insane early enough for some quality estate saleage.

The end.

Dammit dog, walk yourself.
Ok, fine. It's a damn good thing you're cute.

Love in the Time of Migraines

Why do boys make me stupid? Or feel stupid? Or feel like I act stupid? Or something. Dog wanted to go out. I figured I should stop by Neighbor Guy's place to make sure he's still alive and see how school's been going. His lights were all on and his dog was there but he didn't answer the door, so I started to give up and leave when I hear his voice behind me. He's walking with Possible Boy, who as of this morning hadn't seen him in a week, either. And I'm in sweats. First thing Possible Boy says is "Your hair looks really cute like that."
My dumbass reply: "I think I had it like this this morning."
UGH. Punch self in face.
And he really wants to be friends with my dog. My dog. He's so patient. He doesn't get annoyed, and it's not even the humoring me because he wants in my pants or sufficiently cares about me for other reasons. He actually wants my dog, who barks at him without pause and tried to bite his elbow as he crouched down to appear less threatening, to like him.
Right now, he's at the bar. I know this because he said that's where he was going. They've got live Irish music tonight.
Thing that would've been good to say: "Maybe I'll go drop the dog at home and join you in a little while."
Thing I said instead: "I'm going home to read more of my book."
Hide behind the pages of Love in the Time of Cholera. Live vicareously through Fermina Daza instead of creating my own story.
Sometimes it's fun to be ridiculous.

Cold Comfort Ferrari

NBF is back from his South American Christmas and New Years and I am very happy. I missed him way more than I expected to. I keep telling myself it was because I was sick for much of the time, battling the nastiest cold I've had in at least 10 years (I still have the remnants) and just wanting live human companionship that required minimal effort on my part. I have other friends who are zero effort, but they do not live in my neighborhood. I've been working on cultivating my other Chicago friends, and I have some great other Chicago friends, but they still require calls and plans and wearing pants, and when NBF moves, that's a big hole he will leave behind. I knew that already, but his three week absence made it clear how much it's going to hurt.

My car died again. No clue why this time. I was driving down Lake Shore Drive when it started feeling funny, like the acceleration was jerky even when I wasn't accelerating or something, but no lights were going on and we were almost to where we were going anyway and I pulled into the turn-off lane and started to break when all the lights came on at once and the car died right there and wouldn't start up again. The City of Chicago tow truck people came before I'd even found the phone number for AAA and towed me onto Lower Wacker so I'd be out of traffic (no tickets or impounding or anything, it's just their way of getting you off the highway so you don't cause more problems...very smart in my opinion and the woman who towed me was very nice) and I then got a four hour time window from AAA that they wanted me to spend in the freezing cold in the car waiting for the tow truck. NBF spent the first two hours with me, no truck. Called AAA back and they said I could wait in a cafe and they'd give me 15 minutes warning before the truck arrived so I could get back to my car. NBF went home to walk the dogs and I went into Descartes on Michigan Ave to drink hot chai late and knit until the tow truck came about half an hour later.
The driver of the AAA truck was probably in his 40s and while we drove through snowy rush hour traffic, he rambled and I coaxed his life story. He's a single dad who ended up raising his two daughters after his wife of 15 years turned out to be batshit. He didn't say batshit, but the woman flew off the handle and had multiple affairs and didn't really fight for custody or anything then tried to blame her older daughter for not just saying in court "I want to go with my mom." Mind you, I only heard his side of the story, but from his side, she sounds pretty batshit. He's also extremely happy and proud that his daughter made it through high school considering what a rough time she had with the divorce and everything and that she's not pregnant or into drugs, and while he hopes she will some day go to college or something, he's glad she's come this far. It was nice to hear. He just seemed like a really solid, decent guy trying to make the best possible lives for his two girls. It was a good story.

Now I have no car again. It would be easier if I really had no car and just lived my life carless and maybe belonged to iGo or something for the times I needed a car. It would be easiest if my car didn't randomly die on my every other month. I don't know what I do wrong. I take it for its regular oil changes. I feed it premium gas. I even got it exciting snow wipers this year. Still, it insists on hating me. Maybe I should blame the entire country of Sweden. Next time, I'm getting a hybrid Camry. The Camry gods are punishing me for straying.

My sister moved to Portland, Oregon. Portland is the new Brooklyn. I'm still looking at condos here in Chicago, even though it's freezing and I think I'm crazy and still can't really believe I'm looking at condos.

Now that it's 2009, my 10 year high school reunion is officially next year. If I don't do something awesome really soon, I'm going to have to make a baby so I have something to show for myself. I was so scarily driven in high school and the people who actually remember me probably expect me to be a Fulbright scholar or have a Pulitzer or something by now, instead of spending a good 8 years trying to figure out how to reconcile what I want with what I think I should want and how to make what I want happen without feeling guilty for not doing what I think I should want or do.

Warm sleepy dog on lap is a wonderful thing. Too bad I don't feel like that's enough to show off, and that I need something to show off, because warm sleepy dog makes me happy. I'm just still not strong enough in what makes me happy. Bah.

and then it was 2008

I spent New Years in a ballgown* in the international terminal of O'Hare airport. On purpose.

After three weeks with his girlfriend in Florida, NBF's flight was scheduled to arrive at 11:25 PM on New Years Eve. Had I not seen the sign for the airlines when I dropped him off, I wouldn't have believed his domestic flight was really going in and out of the international terminal or that this "discount carrier" actually existed.
With all my recent migraine hell, I wasn't going to make any big booming New Years plans, and my one other big non-booming NYE possibility fell through, so I agreed to pick up NBF so long as I was physically capable of driving. A week of my family mostly behaving themselves and then an energy jolt from being back at my apartment again put me on enough of an upswing that I even drove to Target in a snow storm hoping they had better evening gloves.
I put on my funky Jessica McClintock ballgown and did my hair and make-up and packed a bag with:

• cheap champagne flutes and cheap champagne to match
• sparkling blood orange cranberry juice for my new booze-free self
• marijuana as my partying alternative, packed neatly into my first aid kit because I think it's both appropriate and funny
• cherries, because I had them in the fridge and they were portable and delicious
• these Trader Joe's raspberry brie filo appetizer things that taught me 1) my oven has no temperature numbers on its knob 2) it still works and 3) so does my smoke detector.

I checked Imaginary Airline's Website before I left and discovered NBF's flight now wasn't getting in until 12:12 AM, so I took my time. My dress fell all the way to the floor and I thought about wearing my best snow boots, but ended up in my black dress boots as a compromise between form and function. I drove through what was crappy driving weather, but I was in no hurry and my new car is super comfortable with its seat warmers and anti-lock breaks and Garrison Keillor the radio and hardly any other cars on the road and everything so beautiful and still and white. I could have been miserable and cranky, but instead it was one of those strange moments of pure joy where you just have to laugh at the beauty and perfection and ridiculousness of it all.**
Garrison and I counted down at midnight on the exit ramp to Terminal 5. In a ballgown. In the snow.
Terminal 5 parking is entirely outdoors. I found a spot right by the entrance, grabbed the champagne and food, lifted my dress above the sludge, and went in.
The terminal was warm and almost empty. I put my coat and purse and food down on some seats near the middle and wandered back and forth within 20 feet of my little "base camp." The monitor still said the flight was due in at 12:12. A man slept on a few seats nearby. I wondered if he'd missed the new year. A man and a woman stared at me. I smiled. After all, I was wearing a ballgown. Another man walking passed, also staring, said, "I'm sure whoever you're here to meet will be very happy; you look wonderful." I thanked him. I wanted to say, "Yeah, and the dickwad isn't even my boyfriend!" but I didn't.
I called my parents to wish them the obligatory Happy New Year. They were having fun with their annual party and my dad as drunk as he ever gets. We hung up and it was 12:24. I noticed a bunch of people over beyond where the bar was. I thought it was just restrooms back there and the bar was closed, but maybe there was something going on. A champagne toast? People coming out of the flight?
I picked up my stuff and walked over. Heads turned. I felt like a warped version of Cinderella walking into the ball, except this turned out to be a solitary "domestic baggage claim" in the international terminal and the closest thing to Prince Charming didn't even notice until I was right next to him.
We waited at least half an hour for the bags to come out. Another hour driving home in the snow, counting down with NPR to New Years on the west coast. Then I ate all but one of the brie things, we drank our respective sparkling beverages, smoked a bowl, and he and the dog fell asleep while I lay awake and convinced myself I knew what he was thinking and overthought every turn of his head and move of his arm for at least an hour before finally passing out myself.



*Ballgown is now one word because I think it should be.
**C.S. Lewis talks about those a lot in the appropriately titled Surprised By Joy. They're like microbursts of happiness. When I try to explain them, some people know exactly what I'm talking about, some smile and nod, and others think I'm crazy. I consider them much more logical than and a welcome balance to bouts of depression and sadness. Why is unprovoked sadness common but unprovoked happiness crazy?

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...

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"

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.

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.

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.

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.

Weathered

I hate this friggin' weather. It goes into my head and makes me ouchy and uncomfortable. I'm missing karaoke with my improv class buddies because my head is just not up to it. I slept most of today. Like probably 15 of the last 17 hours. Not cool. At least when I get like this it's clear I wasn't just feeling mopey, I was pre-migraine. As my dog would say, "Mrrff."