pretty crabby

Cruel February, so quick to cash and carry 28 stacks of days.

It's been raining since Friday and I am getting really bored of it. Today I feel as gray as it is outside, I could just sit here and cry for awhile and that would be okay.

I miss the sun. I miss painted toenails and opened toe shoes. I miss swimming and salt and sand. It is times like this when packing up and moving somewhere warm seems like the best idea you could ever have. Who cares if California is about to fall into the sea... it's so lovely there. More than once in the past few days I have said "I am moving to Mexico." Yesterday I said, "we could get a chicken! And eat eggs for breakfast!" Then we could have a dog that would run on the beach. We could have skin like leather and bleached out hair. What would be wrong with that?

In two weeks I am going to Las Vegas for four days. I know it is going to be a whirlwind of activity and I probably won't even get much time to sit in the sun or smell desert air but it will be a CHANGE OF SCENERY and that is all I want right now. I KNOW I am lucky and I have a blessed life but when your boss makes you cry and your friends can't even return your messages it just makes me want to cash in my chips.

And Vegas is full of chips. I hope I have some opportunties to cash them all in.

To start again.

Resolved

When do you come to a point when you stop?

How much effort do I make for people who make no effort back? How many times should I lie in front of the bus just so someone can run me over. (That's rhetorical.)

I think I discovered my New Years resolution. I think it is stop giving when it is clear people do not want what you have to give. I'm tired of caring about the people in my life so much more than they care about me.

Irreplaceable

Dearest Asshole(s);

I am not sure exactly why you chose my dad's house to break into. There are many other lovely houses on the block, and not that any of them deserve to be broken into but what made you pick their house? Is the corner more convenient for your getaway car? Do people even HAVE getaway cars? You took the nicest piece of his luggage to pack up HIS things in, so maybe you just got on the fucking bus. I'll guess we'll never know.

What kind of criminal takes old family photos?

You took a box full of things that I have played with since I was little. Things I have known for my whole life. Things my dad bought and was given and held onto through many moves and many lifetimes. What are you going to do with them??? Are you happy you have my baby teeth? They are meaningless to you and I am sure you will just throw them away. You'll throw my dad's history away. You'll throw pieces of me in the trash. I hope you got what you needed with paintings and pictures and mementos.

What are you going to do with these things?

Why couldn't you have just taken the TV?

I know, and my dad knows, it is only stuff. I am so glad they weren't home, I am glad they are all okay.

But it was HIS FUCKING STUFF.

It makes me think, we're all just taking little pieces of each other. Every day, that is what we do. And that makes me really sad.

Rot in hell, you fucking dickwad.

Better not tell you now.

I am a week to 31, bitches. Prepare yourselves.

This morning I was complaining because thirty-one is not a nice number. I was fine with 30, it is all round and pretty and monumental.

31 is just there. It's the cranky girl on the bus who can't find the gum in the bottom of her bag. It's the last crinkly page of the newspaper that never folds right.(I don't know what any of that means, but what the fuck, it is hot out and I am leaving it there. Screw you, backspace.)

It's just... thirty one. It's boring. And so far, I am not impressed.

Okay, maybe it is the last week of 30 that I am not impressed with?

I don't really want to get into what is going on but I feel like I am getting beat up from the inside out. I feel so tired. I just want to lie down and close my eyes until 31 has kind of lightly passed me over, and when I get up everything will have magically FIXED itself and I won't have to dela with any of it. Yeah, that's realistic right?

Last week I was complaing because I wanted things to happen and now I want to take that back. Bad things are about to potentially happen and I don't even feel like a part of my own life. Basically I am on the outside of a relationship that I should be at least having half a say in. Because I am half of it. But now no choices seem up to me and clearly I was wrong when I thought I would at least get a vote.

I don't know what to do with that. I keep considering different options and the choices I DO actually have and, fuck me, but I don't like any of them.

Nothing feels good and a big door to my future just slammed shut in my face. So, happy birthday to me? I hate how self-pitying I sound because I know I am a blessed person and I have a whole hell of a lot. I am grateful for that...but it is hard when you feel irrelevant in your own life. I don't know what to think about that. I am not sure which way is up.

Sometimes it's all you can do.

I am having a bad day. I feel like crying and there is no real reason why. It started yesterday and has carried over and I want to blame many things like the rainy cold weather and the asshole who SCREAMED at me on the phone this morning because "don't you keep things on PAPER?! You only have things IN THE COMPUTER?" Well, yes. Welcome to the modern world, sir.

Mostly I hate feeling so blue because my brain keeps saying things like "but so much is good! Be happy!" and I am annoyed because then I feel sad and also kind of guilty.

It also makes me sad when I call people crying and their response is "well, is everything okay then? Guess I'll get back to work!" I realize the world does not stop for me but sometimes I would just like a little sympathy. Just someone to say "I'm sorry, I hope your day gets better!" I wish I could go somewhere and burst into tears because the slow leak I have going is just not really condusive to my job as The Happy Front Desk Person.

I want attention and sympathy but I guess sometimes there is just no time for what you want. And that kind of makes me sad too.

Cracker Jack

Ow. My only real news it that I have a huge unpoppable (new word) zit on the side of my head. Like right where my temple is. What the fuck? I can cover it with my hair (which is getting shortter and blonder all the time, fyi) but it hurts. If it gets any bigger, it may turn into a nose.

On TuesdayI had the crabbiest of all days and went home and basically pouted and sat staring at the wall. I avoided all phone calls (except one from my pregnant friend because I figure if a pregnant lady needs to talk you need to listen) and watched the last episode of Americas Next Top Model (helpfully rerun from last week!)

Do you ever just get so blue and inconsolable for really no reason? I wasn't depressed, I was ANNOYED at everyone and I could just tell that nothing was going to make me feel better aside from maybe just going to bed and getting up the next day with a hopefully NEW AND FRIENDLY attitude. I think being friendly all day to strangers is sort of taking a toll on me and when I figure that balance out perhaps I will stop being a cranky bitch in my "real life".

My morning started with this phone call:
Me: "Good morning, Name of Company".
Strange Man: "Tony (something ineadible)."
Me: "Excuse me?" (no one here named Tony)
SM: "Tony (mumble mumble)?"
Me: "Is that who you're looking for?"
SM: "NO. Tony SIRWHATEVER! That's who this is!" (um, who talks like this?!?)
Me: "Oh. Okay?"
SM: "I called there earlier!"
Me: "Well...are you looking for someone specifically?" (there are 30 people in this office, YOU NUTBAR)
SM: "No. TONY SIRBLAHBLAH. He's a patient there!" (didn't you just say YOU WERE HIM?)
Me. "I think you have the wrong number sir. This is a real estate office."

Yeah.

Is it the weekend yet?

Real Men

Hi, Jim Belushi?!

I saw you this morning on Good Morning America talking about your new book.

So... I won't be buying it.

It looks like a crock of shit but also the part where you talked about how men don't go around saying "I'm sorry" except when they were verbally or physically abusive? Well, that's a great attitude! Unless you knock the shit out of the woman you love or call her a cunt or something you aren't going to say your sorry? What if you fuck up and make a mistake and do something shitty? No, not sorry? Alrighty then.

You must be super popular with the ladies. I remember how much Julie Newmar seemed to love you.

In conclusion; shut up.

I think there is an empty spot on your dead brothers coattails. You better get back on that right quick there, Jimmy!

Sweet misery

It has been raining here since Monday and I am bored. Bored of rain. Like, okay, yeah yeah, I GET IT. I am about to start pruning up like David Blaine after three days of insanity (see below). Everything is green green GREEN and he lilacs are blooming and that is nice at least.

On Sunday, Alex and I went to pick some from this somewhat remote/ghetto area. I stood on an abandoned tire next to a discarded wig pulling lilacs off the bush. You have to work with what you've got, ya know? Sunday night I kept waking up and smelling that lush lilac smell and thinking "yay!" as I rolled over and went back to sleep. Lately I keep having work dreams (which is ANNOYING. I don't want to think about work when I am SLEEPING) and the smell and the dreams all blended into this sort of weird drunken haze. Which may have been left over from Saturday night when I went to a Kentucky Derby party and WAS in a drunken haze.

The Kentucky Derby is a brief ass thing, isn't it? It was fifty people smooshed in a room jumping up and down and screaming for two minutes and I STILL don't know who won. I also got to have a somewhat drunken relationship discussion which turned out rather well. I don't particularly ADVISE having relationship summits when drunk, but it helps if you are a shy bottled up girl like I am. (really, I am)

Lastly, David Blaine. OH, David Blaine. I watched about fifteen minutes of his I AM THE BUBBLE MAN special and I was annoyed. Seriously. First of all, what is the point? Not the point of the holding breath thing because I get it, that is a record (although I have no desire to break any world records except maybe the record for the person who was on vacation the longest or who drank the most margaritas without getting plastered or something) but why did he need to be in that bubble for a week? And he's ALL ABOUT 'oh, I'm in rough shape' and 'it's been so hard' - so, GET OUT OF THE BUBBLE THEN. Your feet are PEELING OFF! You FREAK!! Plus, he has this monotone voice where he sounds like he is asleep and he is saying things like "this is so exciting" in the most FLAT BORED voice you ever heard. Is he sedated? Am I? What is going on?

Finally, a mouse died in my office the other day. Under the floorboards. And man, did people FREAK OUT about the smell! I mean, it doesn't smell good but it's not the end of the world and people were losing their shit like they were about to get the bird flu and drop dead. Also, they are all self employed - they can LEAVE the office at any time. I think people just want something to be riled up about. Anything! Hey, you're annoyed about this - SO AM I! Let's commiserate!

Just do it away from my desk, okay? Or better yet, START YOUR OWN BLOG.

Dirt, it's what's for dinner.

Okay, so I have been thinking about this for a long time and the time has come for me to say it. Are you ready? It is sort of revolutionary but here goes; I absolutely hate anti-bacterial products.

Here is something you may not even know or realize - REGULAR SOAP IS ANTI BACTERIAL. Getting rid of germs and beasties is what your old fashioned man made BARS OF SOAP are there to do. Add hot water and you have a regular GERM KILLING MACHINE. Do you know why we are getting bombarded with things like e-coli and the fucking weird alien bird flu? Because germs will FIND A WAY. They will find a way around your anti-bacterial dish soap and tissues (and WTF because you are BLOWING YOUR NOSE into them so all you need to do is THROW THEM AWAY and wash your hands and BE DONE WITH IT. God!) and come out stronger on the other side. It's like Jurassic Park or something where even the all female population found a way to make babies and Jeff Goldbloom got all serious and said "life finds a way!" Or was it Sam Neal? Who cares! Germs are the dinosaurs of germs! Or something that makes sense!

Styro and I had this long conversation the other day about how we are so tired of people and their sterile bubble lives. Everything must be clean and devoid of dirt! Wash your hands before you come inside! Leave your shoes in the hall because GOD FORBID YOU BRING A GERM INSIDE THE HOUSE. I concluded that if and when I have kids, I want them outside all the time! They will live outside! I will FEED THEM DIRT! And they will not be sterile pasty children who crumble under the weight of a cold. They will be HARDY and germ ridden! Aren't you psyched? Don't you want to come over like RIGHT NOW and play with my non-existent dirt babies? Yeah, I thought so.

So, by doing my part I will continue to buy regular tissues that do not repel my snot into the air (because seriously how does an anti-bacterial tissue EVEN WORK?) and soap to wash my dishes which does not render them a completely sterile surface. Yes, the cat hair stays. Do come over and have a burrito! Just remember to wash your hands before you eat it.

You know, if you feel like it.

Hanging on the telephone.

I don't have much to say. I am crabby today.

Have I mentioned that I hate it when people don't call me back? Well, I do. It is my number 1 grievance on a long list of grievances. Yes, I am demanding, but I am obviously aware of that. And how long does it REALLY take to call someone back? Two minutes? To say "Hi, I'm so busy! Can't talk now! Hope you're well!" That is all I need. Seriously. Just BE KIND enough to call a person back. It's just NICE.

So, you hate the phone, you say? You hate even having it anywhere near your head? Here is a thought - TELL ME THAT. Oh, you don't feel like taking calls right now? I forgot that I can READ YOUR MIND, so obviously I already know this. Maybe you could let me know in say two to three hours that you are feeling overwhelmed and you don't want to talk. You could send me a text message! Or a telegram! Or shoot up a flare! ANYTHING! Just wondering if you're alive. THANKS EVER SO MUCH.

Humbug.

Well. At least it is Friday. But I think there is just one thing that will really cheer me up now.