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| The VMA's 2004 |
| 08.30.04 (11:04 am) [edit] |
Where was the dirt? Where was Jenna to light up the screen? Oh wait it wasn’t the porn awards was it? So we gathered as planned to watch the VMA’s last night. There was an eclectic crowd. (My roommate kept having to remind me that it was the VIDEO awards). I kept missing that concept. I was tired and drunk but I wasn’t the only one. We wanted to play a drinking game. He came up with the concept to drink every time someone thanked God in their speech. Obviously the Passion of the Christ phase is over. There were few “thank you’s”. We should have gone with drinking every time Lil Jon said “”Yeeeaayahhhh” or every time someone said to vote. On that note what the hell was with having the daughters of both candidates on there???? I felt bad because they were booing. I mean I know how important it is to vote and maybe they were just trying to get people to register but wow.
The grill was lit by 5:45 pm. The charcoal was hot and ready by 6:20 pm. He prepared these burgers that melted in everyone’s mouth. I kept telling people not to tell him they were good cause he’d get big headed but in all honesty they were delicious (I ate; THAT’s how good they were)**side note** He says that I told him 300 times how good they were so obviously the plan about not telling him failed. He made two kinds; beef patties (stuffed with Jack cheese) and turkey burgers with chopped cilantro, scallions and chopped jalapenos. The menu consisted of baked beans, fries, salad and the bomb burgers. It was quick and easy preparation.
On to other things I found out later in the night that someone was going to stop by.
So I proceeded to yell, “Oh *** is coming. I need to brush my teeth!”
In retrospect that is worse than when Baby tells Patrick Swayze that she carried the watermelon in Dirty Dancing. Someone should just slap me and though the crowd was laughing their ass off I have no idea where or why that statement came out. Along with so many other dumb things through out the night. Let me just say that I wouldn’t have wanted to watch it with anyone else. I loved the smart-ass comments. The boo’s. The hisses. The clapping and yelling when someone we wanted to win would actually win. Can I just say that as talented as Usher is I’m so over it. The best performance of the night (in my opinion) was brought on by Miss Alicia Keys (damn that girl is sexy) when she sang along with Mr. Stevie Wonder. Followed up by Christina Aguilera’s performance with Nelly. We were talking about how we are going to have to look up who won this morning cause I don’t really remember right now.
I was in and out of the living room. Talking and being social and flirting endlessly with the “brush my teeth girl”. I am such a sucker for girls. Can I just say that and of course don’t let them be unavailable cause you know I’m all over it. She is a breath of fresh air. Too bad I’ll probably never see her again. She’s a stage actress and works non-stop. Yesterday she happened to have the day off and my roommate and I have been trying to get her to come over for a while now. She finally caved in. We had a discussion about who Angelina Jolie is really married to. Look I think everyone should just get over the fact that she’s mine but none the less I baited the conversation. We were sitting on the couch flipping through the magazine that had I put out there on purpose (I happened to know ahead of time that she liked her). It’s one of my prized possessions. It’s the one where she is on the cover of GQ magazine wearing that “come get me” look. **sigh
“She’s mine,” she tells me.
“We can move on past the denial part because I always win this argument,” I tell her.
“Well if she’s married to you then you aren’t giving her what she wants cause she’s having sex with me,” she says casually.
I laugh and think about how childish this conversation really is. I mean she’s not married to anyone anymore and the chances of me ever even meeting her are slim to none. Weird how we do that isn’t it but we all have our fantasies I suppose. I’m getting of track.
A flash of brilliance comes my way, “There is only one way to settle that.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
I lean into her ear, “We should have sex and see if your opinion changes.”
She cocks her head to the side and laughs. There was a quick gleam in her eye and then it was over. For the record there was no answer so that means she thought about it. Even if it was only for that brief moment.
I wish I had more to say about the VMA’s but I didn’t watch a lot of it. I was taking calls and being random. I realize that my roommate doesn’t like me being drunk because I become belligerent he says. Which is probably true but it doesn’t happen all the time. I don’t know how to react to him when I’m drunk. It takes a certain talent with him sometimes cause he can be difficult too. (even if he wants to blame it on me).
Also thank you to those of you who asked about how I was doing and for talking to me about things. It helps to find focus in other people’s comfort.
Uhm yeah peace, love and beer!
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| Goodbye |
| 08.27.04 (10:58 am) [edit] |
There is a distinct sadness that one feels when losing someone close. I remember feeling it when my grandfather passed just last year. You contemplate the emptiness that something like that leaves behind. It’s not like breaking up with someone you love. It’s not like saying goodbye to old friends when you move. I haven’t felt sad in a long time. I forgot how heavy the feeling is. Everything you look at is different. Last night I dreamt that I was walking through a crowd. I didn’t know where I was. No one seemed to see me. Then these hands reached out to pinch my cheeks. I knew it was her. She used to do that in high school. She used to tell me that I had skin like a baby’s butt. I wanted to reach out and touch her but before I could tell her anything she was gone. I woke up crying. We never made it to the hospital. She passed away yesterday afternoon. I know that she is no longer suffering. A piece of me wants to believe that she was with us when we went to pay our respects to her family.
No one really had the right words. What do you say? We brought flowers and our condolences. Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing. Apologizing for the reason that we are seeing each other. “Under these circumstances”.
I know that this feeling will pass. The funeral is Tuesday. I am glad for the life she lived. I am happy (though it saddens me) that she had a baby girl. Her husband will have something to always remind him of her. Not that I believe he would forget. I’m glad that we will have an opportunity to say goodbye. I am glad that I was blessed with her presence in my life. I am glad that there will be no more suffering. There are many more reasons to be happy than to be sad. I have to allow myself to feel this through. So that it won’t come back to later.
Dearest Aida,
I wish I had been able to say what I needed to say before you went away. Some how I hope that you know you will be missed. I will try to remind everyone of all the things you accomplished. Things that seemed impossible. May you be at peace and know that you touched so many. Thank you for your unconditional love. Thank you for being you.
You will never be forgotten.
Your friend,
*****
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| Angel Flying too Close to the Ground |
| 08.26.04 (11:34 am) [edit] |
I’m sitting here trying not to think about the things I meant to do or say. I’m not sure how I’ll feel when I see her laying in that hospital bed. I don’t want to be sad because she lived longer than she was told. I don’t want to be sad because she did things that the doctors said would be impossible. She’s 27 or 28 now. I remember the day her and another good friend of ours got drunk at school off of Boonies. I remember how someone came to get me out of class and how when they saw me they wanted to hide that they had been drinking. I remember her smile and her curly hair. I remember how she only wore shirts that covered her neck and chest. She hated that scar but accepted it because it’s what was keeping her alive. I need to allow myself to accept and understand that her time has come.
“Jida” they would call her. Her name is Aida. She is one of the most amazing people that I have known in my lifetime. She was born with a heart condition. All her life she was in and out of hospitals. I had never met anyone with a pacemaker before her. I had never met anyone who challenged life. I had never met anyone that would take any situation and make it a positive and not let the negative overcome. She always hugged and laughed and told someone that she loved them. She wasn’t afraid.
“***** Aida is in the hospital,” she told me.
“What?” my heart stopped.
“She’s dead *****,” she said. I could hear her choke on her words.
“No. That can’t be right. Are you sure?” I asked.
“She had four heart attacks and the last one caused her brain damage,” she said slowly.
I looked around my room. I had no memories hanging up of those days. Not one thing that would make me think of the past. We all had to let go after high school. My roommate was showering. I knew that I had to tell him but I didn’t know if I could.
“Well that doesn’t mean she’s gone *****,” I said back.
“They were going to take her out of intensive care but can’t because her brain is no longer responding. She’s dying ****.”
There was a long silence. My roommate and I had been talking about her last night. She used to eat tomatoes with lemon and salt. Last night. This morning when I got the call it wasn’t the reason she had called. We were on the phone bullshitting and her home phone rang. I could here her asking questions and then she told me. It sounds cheesy how things happen. Why did she think of calling me THIS morning? I haven’t talked to her in months. Why were we talking about her last night? We hardly ever talked about those days.
I’m sitting here and I’m scared that we are going to go see her tonight. I’m scared about all the familiar faces that will become a part of my present. I’m scared that there will be a funeral that I’ll have to attend. I’ve only been to one funeral. Aida’s best friend had been murdered during high school. I remember standing at the grave as she was lowered into the ground. I didn’t know her that well but I looked at the faces that surrounded me that day. I remember them now. I remember the hugs and the tears and the promises to keep in touch. Most of us never did.
I have a picture somewhere of her with her arm around my shoulder at my graduation. Her face beaming and me holding my diploma. I remember going to her graduation and watching her cross the stage. She turned to wave before getting off. I meant to keep in touch. She did so much. She went to college and completed it with a degree. She got married. She had a baby girl (she’s two now and I don’t even know her name). I saw her in the parking lot once of the Target store last year before Christmas. I never stopped her to say hello. We can’t take anything back.
He walked out of the shower just as I hung up the phone.
“You won’t believe the phone call I just got,” I said. Everything was still sinking in.
“What?” he asks.
“Aida is dead,” I say. The words sounded muffled.
“What?” he asks. His hand unconsciously touched his heart.
“She’s brain dead. I think they are just waiting for her heart to stop beating,” I said.
We just stood there looking at each other. Maybe we were waiting for the other to react. Instead he just stepped forward and gave me a hug. He squeezed tight and I hugged him back. A part of me didn’t want to be touched. A part of me wanted him to let me go because I wasn’t ready to cry yet. That was hours ago. Now at the end of this I think it’s finally sunk in. She’s not coming back and all the things that I meant to do will no longer happen because I made the choice to put it off. I hope that she can hear me today when I apologize for not keeping my promise of keeping in touch.
Angel Flying too Close to the Ground
If you had not have fallen
Then I would not have found you
Angel flying too close to the ground
And I patched up your broken wing
And hung around a while
Tried to keep your spirits up
While you were feelin' down
I knew someday that you would fly away
For love's the greatest healer to be found
So leave me if you need to
I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground
Fly on, fly on past the speed of sound
I'd rather see you up
Than see you down
Leave me if you need to
I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground
--Willie Nelson--
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| Flashback |
| 08.24.04 (8:57 am) [edit] |
Blue Eyes if you don’t remember this I’m going to start believing that I made it up.
It was a crisp night, like most summer nights in Hawaii were. They were rebuilding the third deck of our building. My roommate and I had had to move two times that summer. Each time getting more annoyed and talking about which one of us should get married so that we could live out in town instead of in the barracks. We were always making plans. Somehow we wound up on the first floor with the cooks. For those that have never been in the military, the cooks were like the black sheep of our battalion. I don’t know what it was about them that made them so rebellious and wild but we seemed to fit right in. After a long week of scrubbing and cleaning the filthy room that we had adopted we had had enough. There we were young and the only girls on the first floor. Surrounded by all walks of life. There were the cowboys (literally) who walked around with huge belt buckles and dip in their mouth, there were the Vatos with their Mexican music always blaring, there were the thugs who were all tattooed up walking around with their uniform hanging off and everything in between. It was odd at first to be surrounded by the ‘misfits’ but we slowly became a part of the crowd. We liked to drink. We liked to laugh and watch them throw chairs into shit creek. Eventually someone would have to fish them out.
On this particular night we were sitting outside of our room. Our neighbors were providing the music and most of the beer. We all sat out there in our chairs. The breeze was soft and it felt right sitting amongst strangers. Most of them missing home. We used to tell the dumbest stories. We used to play the music loud and we listened to everything. This particular night as we threw back Corona’s, Heineken’s and Bud Light’s we started talking about the big asbestos containers in front of our rooms. It had been a long Friday, we had started drinking at 500pm that afternoon. Most of us sitting around with our cammie bottoms on and our skivvy shirts untucked. It was that kind of atmosphere and even if we were girls we were more like “one of the guys” than most of the guys were. (As long as no one asked us to start making out it was all good). I wish I could recall what made me get up and go into the room next door. One of the guys had an acoustic guitar and an electric one laying out on his bed.
Let me tell you that I am brilliant when I am drunk. Most would beg to differ but if there was anyone that could make you laugh when drinking it was me. I had a knack for it and then a little light bulb came on and it wasn’t going to go anywhere unless I went through with the plan.
“Hey Blue-Eyes come here,” I say smiling.
“What man?” she asks coming into the room.
“You want to be a rock star?” I ask.
She has this knack for going along with things. We both did when we drinking together. Usually it involved singing and jumping around on our beds.
“Yeah man,” she said with that all too familiar smile.
I grab the electric and give her the acoustic and we throw the straps over our shoulders.
“Where are you guys going?” one of the guys ask.
“Oh here we go,” another one says.
I take Blue Eyes hand and walk toward the big containers. She grabs two more beers before following me. We stood in front of the cans looking up at the top. They stood about a story high with bars that one could use easily to climb across the door panels. I take a drink from the cool beer. She looks back and yells at the guys to shut-up as the usual comments came our way.
“What are you guys doing over there?”
“Hey you guys are gonna get sick from that shit.”
I look at her and smile before yelling back, “We’re all gonna die of something!”
“How are we gonna get up there,” she asks.
“We are going to climb,” I say.
I make sure the guitar and my beer are secure before I start to scale the can. One foot after the other and then I turn around to take Blue Eye’s beer. She’s looking at me crazy like. She looks back at the guys who are now gathered together watching (I’m sure) to see if one of us would fall off. Then she shrugs and follows me up. There we were queens of our castle. We look at each other and raise our beer before taking a long ass swig. Some of the guys on the second deck had come out to watch as well. The moon was out, it glistened against the blacktop of the basketball courts just on the other side of the creek. The sound of palm trees swaying filled the air. We laughed at how ridiculous we probably looked and then I yell at them to turn the music up. There we were rocking out on top of huge asbestos cans. I can’t remember what was playing but the guys were yelling and whistling and we played fake guitar and danced. One song and then it was time to get down. We worried the MP’s (military police) would drive by and get us into trouble. We laughed so hard. We drank the rest of our beer and threw the empty bottles into the creek.
Then we had to get down, we couldn’t manage it alone so some of the guys came to take our gear from us. Blue Eyes was having a fit cause she didn’t know how she was going to get down and of course the knights in shining armor (the cooks) were telling her to jump and they would catch her.
“Fuck you guys,” she yelled back as she slowly climbed back down.
I followed soon after jumping off at the end and landing on my ass. I lay there and laughed while the blurry stars above me watched. Blue Eyes runs back to wear I was laying and grabs my arm helping me up. We walk back to our chairs and sit down. I was winded from laughing and buzzing from the beer. There was a brief moment of elation and though I missed home and my past I couldn’t imagine not being there at that moment.
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| Rocked with Gina Gershon |
| 08.23.04 (11:01 am) [edit] |
Saturday morning started like most of my mornings. I was exhausted after working a16 hour work day on Friday. I’m up at 7:00 in the morning after 4 hours of sleep to catch a cab and go pick up trash at the marina (I have two weekends left). My head hurts from not getting enough sleep. I am lagging but I always manage to keep a good attitude (like I have a choice). If you read the post from last week about Mr. Furlough, his date was a bomb. He said he was ready to leave the young ladies company after she downed two Beautiful’s (Cognac and Grand Marnier) and made fun of him for not knowing what was in an Incredible Hulk (Hypnotic and Cognac).
“She turned out to be a little too much for me,” he said laughing.
“Too ghetto you mean. It’s ok to admit you made a mistake.” I said.
“Well she seemed fine but then she starting drinking that cognac and talking about how she ‘kicked’ it with Too Short once,” he said.
So needless to say he just drank and listened wishing the date was over. There was no sex in the champagne room for Mr. Furlough but he seemed relieved that he hadn’t gone through with it. Lunchtime came around and five of us piled into a car to grab some grub. Most of them had a few beers before going back to work. I did not partake in this because I was worried that if I drank I would fall asleep. I went into the Borders store instead and wandered around for half an hour. Most of you (if you’ve read that long) know that I attended a Gina Gershon show at the American Music Hall earlier this year. I bought the DVD that chronicles the different shows she did across the US. It’s more of a documentary than actual footage of the show itself. I couldn’t wait to see it. I’m a sucker for things like that but we already know that.
So I come home and my roommate suggests that we go look for a bookshelf to complete our living room. We didn’t find any at the thrift stores. We went and bought pots and dirt to transplant some of our plants. I get silly when I am tired. Silly and moody depending on what is going on. All I know is that he was laughing a lot and I was in space. I wanted my warm shower, and my pillows and my bed. It was 6:30 pm before we made it back home. We managed to find everything we needed for the particular project. I just want to say ‘I LOVE OUR BOOKSHELF’. It brings so much more character to our place. We settled into dinner and watching TV about 800pm. A friend stopped by and so we got burritos, beer and watched Gina. No one was as excited as me. I happen to think that she’s absolutely fucking beautiful. She fits right into my older, smart-ass, don’t give a shit, lets get dirty category. ****Drooool**** So finally it gets to the SF show. I was watching the crowd diligently. I’M on the DVD!!!!! Yeah boy. If you slow it down at the end when it’s panning through the crowd as she’s closing up the show. You can clearly see me jumping up and down and yelling. I’m sure if you listen to the crowd you can hear me yelling “Marry me Gina!”. I know, I am awesome right? Anyone that understands the situation would have been there right along with my jumping up and down. After it was over I was hyped so I finished the rest of the beer while listening to music in my room. I didn’t go to sleep until almost midnight. I had a slight hang over which only a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich would be able to take away. Being the furlough whore that I am I got my boss to take me through the drive-thru so I could get something to eat. I didn’t tell him the real reason why and he didn’t ask. I just told him that I wanted breakfast and I offered to buy him a sandwich if he took me. He agreed and then we got rid of the evidence.
I am beat. Not enough sleep. Too much to think about. Me being responsible is such a process. I need a vacation. A real one. With beaches and margaritas.
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| The BBQ Whore |
| 08.20.04 (9:32 am) [edit] |
This year has been a year of whoring for me (well not really I am the Virgin Mary by all accounts right now). My brother wanted to hang out last night. He invited some friends to my place and the only reason I agreed is cause he said he’d bring food so that I could BBQ. Let me explain this little situation. When I SMELL the briquettes start to burn I get a warm little fuzzy in my tummy. I swear the smell of BBQ makes me happy in some weird way. My roommate has dubbed me the BBQ whore. I can’t say no. I want to grill all the time and I can grill anything. The grill and I have an inseparable relationship. When I go to any store I always say, “Oh I need to get that for the grill.” He tells me to get over it and won’t let me buy anything. (I do need to get some utensils though) Turning the meat over with a fork is NOT cutting it. I burn arm hairs off because of the heat. I don’t find that very funny.
Anyway someone pointed out last night that when there is a grill I am there. It’s like this attraction that just can’t be broken. I am the grill’s bitch. To be real about it I didn’t believe it but she went back three years and pointed it all out. Then it dawned on me. I have been the grill whore for years now! I even BBQ’d at last years company picnic (I know some of you remember that story). So as I was burning my arm hairs off last night I figured if I’m gonna be the whore I need proper toys. I will be investing in some supplies to keep the grill happy. I want a bigger grill. Right now I have one of those small camping grills and I don’t want mean the electric ones. I don’t believe in the gas one’s. Give me briquettes or give me death!
There were good times to be had last night. There was bbq’d chicken and grilled corn and hot links and sausages and rice (I didn’t grill the rice). There were screw-driver’s and 40’s and tequila and even though they were my brothers friends there were lots of laughs. They were 420’d out but I didn’t go there. To top it off my brother washed the dishes before he left last night so I don’t have any cleaning up to do. It was his way of thanking me for dinner I suppose. I didn’t think it was going to be such a big event but apparently I was wrong. There were about 8 of us total and there was no food left over so it worked out well once again. I’m going to have to come up with a reason to have another one soon. Nah mean?
Onto the main even of the night cause there is always going to be one at my house I think. My roommate (you didn’t really think I wasn’t going to mention the spousal abuse did you?) decided that it would be funny to push me last night and push me he did. Now let me just say that he is bigger than me by a lot. In fact he likes calling me small all the time, “Awww you’re so small.” The devil was in him last night. I swear he claims I punched him first but I don’t remember it at all and even if I did it was probably because he said something mean to me. Let me explain that I never fall when people push me. Last night however, I FLEW into a wall. Here is the reason he says I fell.
1. “You didn’t have shoes on only your socks.”
2. “You were drunk.” (I’ll give you that one cause it’s all fuzzy to me).
3. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”
To top it off my brother proceeds to laugh his ass off. I swear it was a matrix moment. I happened so fast and the next thing I know I am sliding into the wall. I was confused. I wanted to know why my brother didn’t defend me (Oh! Wait it was because he was STILL laughing his ass off). My shoulder connected with the wall and my knee connected with the floor. I now know what it feels like to be shoved in the schoolyard by a bully. It was hilarious. I can only imagine a little midget getting kicked by someone who is bigger than him and then flying into the air. I am still laughing this morning. My knee is a bit sore but I have no hang over. Life is good right now.
I made an accidental phone call last night and I am silently praying I didn’t say anything stupid and the she didn’t notice that I was already drunk. I told myself to not think about it but it’s hard to let it go cause I can’t remember the conversation. **stupid, stupid, stupid**
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| This Page |
| 08.19.04 (10:07 am) [edit] |
I realize that in my hiatus from not going out and drinking these pages have become a bit unentertaining. I don’t have drunken stories to tell. I can’t identify with the ruckus of the night or the feeling of letting go as much anymore. I have no reason to go out there. I’m not sure why I did it in the first place. I know I missed my friends from the service. I know I was trying to support someone else’s coming out of a depression. I know that I was drinking a lot more. I know that I was willing to leave pieces of myself on sidewalks or in bars. I know that I was pretending not to care about my heart. I know that I was hoping to find someone to love me in all the wrong places. The DUI’s have changed my life. I am more aware of the damage I can cause to others. I’m still learning to take care of me. I have become less self-destructive. I’d like to think that I’ve changed for the better though when the occasion calls for it I can fall back into old habits just as easily.
“We’ve grown up a lot these last year’s haven’t we?” she asked.
“I guess it comes from changes,” I answered.
“Hopefully it can only get better from here,” she said.
“Don’t think so much. Things happen the way they are supposed too,” I told her.
I guess I’ve learned that having control of EVERYTHING doesn’t make everything go smoothly. That sometimes you have to let it go and allow things to run its course. What happens at the end of the journey who knows. I try not to think too far ahead. I try to focus on the now and keeping myself content. There are moments of clarity. There are moments of darkness. All in all I am better for being able to give in to both. The things I want and the things I need aren’t so blurry.
I was thinking last night as I was laying in bed that for the first time in a while now I am satisfied in ways that I haven’t been before. I am content with doing what I want to do when I want to do it. Maybe next week I’ll be talking about wanting to die (because I am known to be dramatic). I don’t care. I don’t want to ruin the now by thinking that far in the first place. I am being responsible. I am being aware. I am no longer drowning in the past. I can come up for air for longer periods of time and it has taken me many, many empty bottles to get here. I have been fortunate enough to have people that make me want to be better. Even when I was blind to it and I preferred the bottle to a hug or a decent conversation I had people that got it without having to get it. Maybe they had more faith in me than I had in myself.
On the flip side of that I had a good day off yesterday. I had lunch at Hooters down at Pier 39 and I craved having someone to down a pitcher with. I took my sister and her friends. They commented on how one of them should get a job there. We had oyster shooters and my sister almost choked on the shot because she had never taken a shot of any thing. We got to keep the glass as a souvenir. I also purchased some reading material. I have to keep my mind healthy. I’m looking forward to drowning in the pages. The song of the moment is Maroon 5’s “She will be loved” and the whole “Walking Wounded” CD by Everything but the Girl.
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| The Heart Remains A Child |
| 08.17.04 (9:26 am) [edit] |
She leaned against the wall waiting for the rain to pass. There was nowhere to go and no one to meet. The wind danced with old newspapers across the street before abandoning them against a windshield of a parked car. She watched as the leaves floated by headed for the inevitable fall at the drain at the end of the street. There were moms yelling at their kids to stop playing in the puddles. The umbrellas were being swept up and down and up again. People walked bundled up trying not to let the water ruin their perfect hair. She smiled at the water splashing everyone along the sidewalks. She wondered why the rain seemed to cause so much chaos. She pulled her coat closer to her neck. The breeze caused her skin to goose up. She had her headphones and as she waited for the bus line to pick her up. It was still early. She had left the house almost twenty minutes ahead of schedule. This morning felt different. She looked up at the dark sky and a thought flashed in her mind. She turned her music down. There was a small café across the street and she made her way into the little establishment. The smell of coffee and pastries hit her as soon as she walked in. There was a small table in the back right by the window.
After ordering a small coffee she slid in and removed the headphones. The noise from the café slowly crawled into her. Small intimate conversations. The rustling of newspapers. The espresso machine making gurgling sounds. Laptops clicking away before the morning presentations. She had one thing on her mind. She gazed into her coffee and listened as the rain dripped against the window. Her gaze wondered onto the streets. It had never been this difficult to make such a simple decision before. With time however she had learned to not push. She had learned to let things go but right now she needed to hear that voice. It was the song that had clicked it on and now she just wanted to click it back off. What if there is not answer? What if it’s just another message gone unanswered? Did it matter as long as the other side knew that her thoughts were always where ever they were?
She slid her phone out of her bag and looked for the number even though she could dial it with her eyes closed. SEND. Ring. Ring. Ring. Right before she hung it up there was click. Her heart dropped.
“I was just thinking about you this morning,” there was a smile in the voice she could always tell.
“You are lying to me,” she said casually.
A slight laugh, “No I swear I’m not.”
There was a brief silence, “How are you?”
“Honestly I’m o.k.” there was a sigh on the other line.
“I didn’t think you’d pick up your phone but I took my chances,” she said.
“I know I’m horrible with it and I’m sorry but when I saw your name I HAD to answer it. We just got back from Vegas yesterday.”
We she thought briefly, “ How was that?”
“It’s Vegas I guess. I think it depends on who you go with. It was all right but I wasn’t that impressed,” there was s light laugh.
“Well next time take me,” she says casually.
“I’m sure if you had gone it would have been a lot different.”
“Look I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you were getting ready for work. If you get a minute call me soon,” she says.
“Actually I was just walking out the door. I’m really glad you called. Can I call you tonight?”
She took the last sip of her coffee, “Sure I’ll be home. I’m not doing much these days.”
“O.k. Bye. I’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Yeah o.k,” she says as she hangs up the phone.
A minute had passed before she realized that she had stopped breathing. A sigh escaped as she leaned into the window. The cold from the outside felt good against her skin. Her bus would be here soon she thought. She gathered her things and walked towards the door. Her mind was clear. The wind pushed against her as soon as she stepped out. She took a deep breath as she played the conversation over in her head. There was a stillness she felt as the rest of the world moved along in front of her. She put the headphones back on as she started to walk across the street. PLAY.
I dreamed about you again last night.
You never have the same face twice,
but I always know it's you,
and you're always looking better than you really do.
Than you really do.
And I walk around the whole next day
feeling like I've still got something to say.
But I don't know what it is,
and I don't know how to reach you even if I did.
Even if I did.
Do I wanna hear that you forgive me?
Do I wanna hear you're no good without me?
Am I big enough to hear that you never even even think about me?
Why should you ever think about me?
And I thought that I'd outgrow this kind of thing.
Tell me, aren't we supposed to mature or something?
I haven't found that yet, is this as grown-up as we ever get?
Maybe this is as good as it gets.
And years may go by,
but I think the heart remains a child.
The mind may grow wise,
but the heart just sulks
and it whines and remains a child.
I think the heart remains a child.
Why don't you love me?
Why don't you love me?
Why don't you love me?
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| Rachael Yamagata |
| 08.16.04 (2:54 pm) [edit] |
I heard her on the Conan O'Brian a few months ago. I was supposed to go see her in June at Cafe Dunord but I couldn't make it. Listening to her CD this weekend I trust that she will be known soon enough.
I'll Find A Way
by Rachael Yamagata
Album : Happenstance
I'll find a way
to see you again
I'll find a way
to see you again
I used to think that anything I'd do
wouldn't matter at all anyway
But now I find that when it comes to you
I'm the winner of cards I can't play
Wait for me
wait for me
Darling
I need you desperately
desperately here
And I'll find a way
to see you again
I'll find a way
to see you again
The rain is like an orchestra to me
Little gifts from above meant to say
Girl, you're falling at his feet
Isn't it lovely or stunning today
Lay with me
lay with me
I'm alive when you're here with me
here with me
stay
And I'll find a way
to see you again
Yes I'll find a way
to see you again
Why do the street lamps die
When you're passing by
Like a hand that won't stay on my shoulder tonight?
If you held me close, would you laugh it away?
Would you dare the glance that I steal to stay?
And I'll find a way
to see you again
Yes I'll find a way
to see you again
I'll find a way
to see you again... (x4)
The rain'll bring (echo)
me down.
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| His name was.... |
| 08.16.04 (11:11 am) [edit] |
I have seven days at the furlough left. That’s three more weekends and then I’m done. I wish I could explain how frustrating it is to know that the summer slipped by this year. That I wanted to do so many things but couldn’t. I am going back and forth between continuing to work for money on the weekends or taking a break for a month or so. I wouldn’t even know what to do with my time. It’s not like I have a car or anyone to do anything with anyway. Work is good for me. It keeps my mind occupied.
There is a lot going on up there lately. Random little things that are tearing away at me. I had a really good conversation with a friend last night. She told me that her and another mutual friend had been talking about how they think I have a fear of commitment and that’s why I would rather be alone and that being picky is a way for me to avoid dating etc.
I don’t like dating. The idea of it weirds me out. I’d rather fill out a survey and say, “Here this is what I have to offer.” That’s what it is anyway. Lets ask twenty questions and then see where it goes. For me I’d rather not know it’s happening. I’d rather have conversations with 30 people all at once than sit with someone that wants to know things about me. It’s un-nerving. I think I am at a point where I no longer want to be alone but I can’t bring myself to do anything about it. Though I get lots of suggestions none of it appeals to me. What would I be like with someone around all the time? Six years is a long time to not know what that’s like anymore.
Yesterday I was watching a crush un-fold in front of me (not mine for a change). There is this guy that I always talk to in the program we’ll call him Mr. Furlough. Anyway yesterday was the first time another girl had been in the program. I never asked her name but that wasn’t important. She was cute and smart and 26. Mr. Furlough is 30 years old. He has done and seen things that someone like me could only envy. He is the bachelor looking for peace of mind. He wants more from his life because he’s tired of the fast lane. He has this manner that makes him appealing. He is handsome with hazel green eyes and thick coarse hair.
She was rather quiet and rude at first (this comes naturally when you don’t want to be there). She only had one day to complete. Him and I were having a conversation while waiting for our truck to arrive. She is sitting across the path from us and I am watching her. She would casually glance over and eventually got up to sit by us.
“Don’t look so sad,” I tell her. “It’s only one day and it’s not that bad here.”
She laughs and then starts to tell us her story. I won’t get into those details either. Basically him and I be-friend her to make her last day a little more interesting. Before lunch they were buddies. Laughing and giggling in the back seat. I am in the front seat cause I rule. My boss just looks at me and shakes his head. I shrug and keep my laughter to myself. At the end of the day no one else notices that they leave the parking lot together. I am thinking he has asked her out to a late lunch and she said yes. I thought it was the cutest thing. To see something like that unfold catches me off guard. It’s all so natural when it’s not forced. That’s what I want.
I was telling someone that story later and I admitted that in some other world at some other time I would have wanted him to ask me out to dinner. He reminded me of the first guy I had ever felt anything for. I was in the 5th grade. His name was Carlos Cabrrera. I remember him clear as day. He had dark eyes and a broad smile. He was slightly taller than me and his favorite thing to wear was a white shirt with jeans. I loved the 5th grade because of him. We used to eat lunch together in the cafeteria and play soccer during recess. We’d get teased because we had the same initials (kids could be cruel) but we had a knack for shrugging it off. He was my best friend. I remember once he embarrassed the shit out of me in class when I didn’t get student of the month. He had raised his hand to tell Mrs. Wright that he felt she was wrong. I put my head on my desk wanting to disappear but inside I had butterflies in my stomach.
I never saw him after that year. We were supposed to go to the same junior high the following year but my parents had decided that we were going to move that summer. I never got the chance to keep in touch. When I think about it makes me sad. Sometimes it feels like that is what my life is full of, missed opportunities.
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| The Blind Girl |
| 08.13.04 (11:41 am) [edit] |
I was sitting in the car on the way to pick up a birthday cake for some co-workers. I was sitting there half listening to a friend talk about getting a new job. I felt bored. We were stuck at a red light. There was construction work going on so the traffic was as heavy as the air felt. I sighed and glanced to my left just in time to watch a young blind girl walking across the street. You could hear the little beep coming from the stoplight. It was that only way she knew it was all right to go. She was alone. She was wearing a purple sweater over a striped red and white shirt with a knee length gray skirt. Her socks were white. Her shoes were brown.
I watched her because as she walked across she was using her cane to guide her along her path. She almost walked right into an open manhole. What disturbed me is that the guy working in the manhole didn’t get up to make sure that she didn’t run into it until her cane went into the hole. I jumped up in my seat (it was a reaction). There was a second worker who went and took her by the hand so that she could hold on to his arm as he helped her across. He left her at the corner. When she went to move forward she started to trip over a hose that was lying right in front of her. Then she just stopped. She stood there and let out a sigh. Then a sudden sadness consumed me and I felt my tears come up.
I took a breath and reminded myself that feeling bad for her wasn’t going to help her. When the light finally turned green and we managed to get into the lane I watched her. I watched her because I couldn’t imagine not being able to see things.
I can’t imagine not being able to put faces with the names that I’ve come to love. I can’t imagine not knowing what the rain looks like. I can’t imagine not being able to see the color of someone’s eyes or not being able to acknowledge a welcoming smile. It was overwhelming for me to see that. I live for the little things after all. The things that most will easily over look.
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| It's haunted I tell you |
| 08.13.04 (8:22 am) [edit] |
We found out yesterday that no one lives in the apartment above us. In fact no one has lived there since the beginning of this month apparently. Yesterday our landlord had come to fix some things at our complex. So I ask him about the people above us. He gives me a funny look.
“There isn’t anyone living up there,” he says.
“Not to doubt you or anything but we can clearly hear people running around upstairs,” I say.
“Well I didn’t change the locks until today but I don’t think anyone has broken into the apartment,” he says.
“You know honestly I would think I am crazy. In fact I am usually the one to admit it but my roommate heard it too,” I say.
On cue he sticks his head out of the door, “She isn’t lying you can really hear people up there.”
We all laugh and talk about it and decide that maybe because of the thin walls some of the sounds carry from the other apartments. Personally it’s bullshit because it sounds like horses are running around above us. You can clearly hear the kids jumping off beds and running into the living room. So last night I told my roommate that he had to be home before 11pm and that if I was asleep in his bed it was because there were noises upstairs. I went to bed around 1100pm and sure enough as soon as I settled into my half-sleep you can hear them laughing and playing. I believe in ghosts. I have had enough experiences in my lifetime and maybe some day I will right them down but not right now. Make fun of the though if you want, I truly believe some people are touched. I will leave it there. So I turn on my radio and let the music drown out the sounds and my mind cause I can scare the shit out of myself sometimes.
I want to believe that the sounds are coming from other apartments but we happen to know that there aren’t that many kids that live there. I want to think that it’s the apartments across the way but you never hear anything coming from their side. It’s coming from right above us. I told my roommate that I was going to light all the Jesus candles from a photo shoot he did and place them around the perimeter of my bed. Everyone found this funny and if I weren’t so scared of lighting the apartment on fire I probably would have. I get a phone call around 1130pm.
“Are the ghosts keeping you company,” he says half laughing.
“Yeah laugh but I can hear them again. I turned on the radio so that I don’t get scared,” I tell him.
“You should have come out tonight,” he says.
“Oh yeah what’s going on?” I ask.
“They are out in full force. You know I never call you when I am out but I just saw like ten of them roll on by and even I was like damn,” he says.
“It’s Latin night,” I say.
“Yeah it is. Usually there are only like two at the most but not tonight,” he says. “If your brother hadn’t been there I would have made you come out. I had a feeling.”
“Yeah well pick one out and bring her home for me. She can come help keep the ghosts out,” I say laughing.
I haven’t been to the city to dance in a long time. I lost that fire for it. I lack the confidence or the drive to mingle in a world full of loneliness and alcohol. Unless you are one of those fortunate beautiful people then it’s a life full of free drinks and lots of attention. Which brings me to the never-ending saga of being alone all the time. Actually I had a pretty good conversation with a really good friend about it yesterday. Even though I clearly know who and what I am attracted too it leaves me in a lonely space. I watch from back there and ease my way in. I just can’t be the aggressor unless I am absolutely sure that it’s wanted and since vagueness is a little too common in my situations I just tend to not pay attention anymore.
If people were a little more clear and if I weren’t so afraid maybe things would be different. Oh well I have the ghosts and Jesus candles to console me now. I can tell them my woes as they jump around above me.
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| I look like a rapist |
| 08.12.04 (8:28 am) [edit] |
She was stranded in the parking lot. I had to go…yes I hung up the phone with you to go help her. I asked her to pop her hood so I could listen to it when she tried to turn it on (classic I know but hey my dad taught me a few things alright?). Any way I think it’s her alternator. I tell her that and she continues to try to turn it on. She gets out of her car just as my brother pulls into the parking lot. He does the same thing and we try to find some jumper cables. At least that way it would give her a kick and she could get it home. We ask random people and no one has any jumper cables. In the end she calls her boyfriend and he calls his buddy and the world is safe again. We get into his car and drive away.
“The next time you have some fine girl stranded in the parking lot let me know,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“Look at me girl. I look like a rapist. I haven’t shaved and I sure as hell wasn’t dressed for the occasion,” he says.
“Uhm **** I didn’t know she was going to be stuck in the parking lot,” I say laughing. “I can’t believe you said you looked like a rapist.”
“I’m serious. I am going to start carrying around an electric shaver in my glove compartment and a change of clothes in my trunk,” he says grinning.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“It never fails that you have some fine girl hanging around,” he says. “Is she single?”
At this point my fans I am nearly pissing my pants from laughter. I tell him to shut-up and it’s never that serious. I tell him about her situation and he just sighs and then I do too.
“I’m still going to do it. Eventually there will be someone else. Hook me up *****,” he says.
“Are you high?” I ask him.
I laugh all the way home. I get on the phone with a certain someone and I try to explain in short term what has happened. My brother mentions Jackie Onasis (this is her nickname) and then it goes downhill from there.
“Oh really?” she asks.
“We were just trying to help her,” I say.
“I’m sure you were,” she says back.
Granted YOU were the one that told ME to find someone for myself. Then YOU want to turn the tables and make ME feel guilty and THEN call me “whooped”. I am still assessing the situation. Cause I laughed all night after you said that and then some. My brother wanted to know who I was talking too since I was laughing so much. So now that I know how you really feel ….”HA” is all I have to say.
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| I'm Over It |
| 08.10.04 (10:41 am) [edit] |
Told you all it wouldn’t take me too long to get past this little crush thing but I’ll get to that in a second. After a few weeks of responsibility I am taking off for a few days. I’m not going anywhere but I’m not going to class tonight and I didn’t come into work yesterday. I had a killer headache to match up with a little cold. I spent the day sleeping and realized that I am much too old to pretend that I can continue to binge and still move along my merry way.
Sunday night was margarita night at my place. I decided that I wanted to have a BBQ. I have worked all summer. I was tired of just going through the motions….I needed company. So when I planned the BBQ it was last minute. There were only a hand full that I hoped would make it. It was supposed to start at 5 or 530 but no one was there at that time. My roommate and I sat on the couch and I started to think that no one was going to show. I felt like the girl in the movie “200 cigarettes”. The one that threw the party but no one showed up until she had passed out…..this is amusing. You had to be there I guess. When Cruzando left to get his “amigo” I turned on the radio and poured me a tall one. I got this new mixer glass and shaker…it’s my new toy and if I knew anyone who wanted margaritas I’d invite them over every night just so I could use the glass.
I thought it over and I didn’t care anymore who would or wouldn’t come. I figured my roommate was there and his friend (since I adore them both it was enough) No need to be greedy after all. I lit the grill and proceeded to drink in high volumes. It was a pleasant surprise when and hour later the house was full of company. There was music and a lot of food. I was in good spirits and everyone seemed to be having a good time. I don’t remember the end of the night too much but it was worth it. I was at home. I was safe and I needed to let loose.
On to the crush after being rejected on a rather friendly kind of vibe I am over it. She has been lowered back to eye-candy. She and her best friend have been invited to the house on numerous occasions. Most would say “Oh *****, told you so”. But I say, “They don’t know what they are missing.” Then it’s too late and I have moved on to be alone again. Being alone is not as hard as most people think it would be. I prefer it to being with someone. I was never any good at relationships anyway. I don’t like them. They are over rated. Yesterday as I was nursing my little hangover I kind of wished that someone had come to check up on me or just lay there with me. Anyone’s warmth would have done. If I had a fish tank I would have put the fishie in bed with me so it could make bubbly sounds. I think I am still ill and a little delirious.
For the record “T” I missed the funnies. I wanted to call yesterday so I could hear you tell me what a dip-shit I am for getting myself that sick.
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| Schooling Me |
| 08.06.04 (3:46 pm) [edit] |
The 45 year old dyke (and I call her that cause that’s how she identifies) was trying to school ME on good “fucking” (yes she used this word) music. Now as open-minded as I am and knowing that I sit at work and watch the kitten walk by me all day, every day. I have my soundtrack o.k. lady! You don’t have to RUB in the fact that you have found a new lover and that you are getting your “freak” on. Second I don’t want any visuals. You making grinding movements while standing in front of my desk is NOT o.k.
Now if you want to train the kitten on how to approach this subject you are more than welcome. In fact you are more than encouraged. As much as I really like our working relationship, you doing such movements is just going to cause me some discomfort. Not that I don’t appreciate your happiness, really at your age I am GLAD that you found someone. That means that there is still hope for me. Also you telling me that you are upset cause you got your period and you were planning on “screwing” your girl…..no.
There are just certain things you don’t share with people. I understand that people have to get things out. I really understand the excitement of finding someone to do the dirty with. I would appreciate details if lets say you were……25 years younger? You weren’t even grinding in the correct fashion and yet you want to school ME? Cause there is a correct way if you are going to attract the masses. If I do anything well that would be it.
That is all…I hope this letter finds you well into your third grinding lesson. It makes me glad that I held my tongue on this observation because I have a feeling you would have asked me for lessons and I would have had to tell you that I don’t know how to dance.
After all YOU were the one schooling ME.
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| Leaning In |
| 08.04.04 (3:41 pm) [edit] |
“You want to see what apartment I am going to go look at?” she asks.
I scoot out of the way, “Yeah go ahead.”
I tried to get up so she could sit down but she tells me to stay there. She leans over to type the site in. She’s wearing her glasses and they slide off a little as she leans in toward the computer. I notice that her skin isn’t as perfect as I had originally thought. I notice little scars on her hands as she types. She’s half smiling and I have to wonder at what? When she blinks I notice how long her eye-lashes are. She has no other makeup on except the shiny lip-gloss on her full lips. I notice her eye-brows are thicker than I originally noticed (it must be the Spanish blood). I feel myself smile. If I lean forward slightly my lips would graze her soft brown skin. In another world it would have happened. I would have kissed her then. She smells like a soft perfume mixed with soap. I watch to see where she is going but it’s taking her longer to find the ad. In my head I am hoping it’s over soon. The urge to touch her is urgent. I bite my teeth down in order to stop me from laughing at myself. She looks at me and then returns to the screen. I wonder if she noticed. I keep my breath steady then decide to scoot my chair back a little more.
“You didn’t have to move,” she says as she adjusts into a better angle to look at the screen.
“You looked uncomfortable,” I say quickly.
This time I notice the small of her back. It’s barely visible as her white blouse moves slightly up her back. I clear my throat and get up to get some water.
“I know it’s in here,” she says when I get up.
“Maybe you passed it up,” I say looking out the window.
I fill my water bottle back up and take a long drink before turning to go back to my desk. I had already made up my mind that I was not going to sit down until she had moved away.
“Here it is!” she steps back to show me.
I sit down and look at the screen commenting on color of the building (it’s the same color as the building we work in now). She’s going to go look at it after work. I can’t wait till the apartment hunting is over so she doesn’t have to show me anymore. She lingers. That is what distracts me. I feel like I am supposed to say something and just laugh instead. She smirks and goes back to her desk. I have an hour left of work. Then I am meeting my brother for some drinks. A part of me wishes he knew so I could explain what happens when she is near. I truly start to think that I make things up in my head. I haven’t been wrong about attraction. I know when it is and isn’t there. Straight or not. This time I want to be wrong. Period.
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| Eating Anais |
| 08.04.04 (1:33 pm) [edit] |
Knowning
Five years is a long time to love a ghost, to hold it so close that it wraps itself around you and becomes part of your own flesh. And at some point you realize that it’s now the ghost you love instead of the thing. It’s the precision of the incision and the shape of the scar itself that has become precious. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do once you know that, but the knowing, at least, is a relief.
posted by Demetria
I have found a site that has become my muse. In reading a lot of the posts this afternoon I wished sincerley that I had written them and experienced what was being put on the pages. In many, many ways I found myself intertwined with the words. A lot of old familiar feelings came flooding back. A lot of my own insecurities disappearing as well. I feel at ease right now. I am not so jumbled.
It's amazing what words can do......
http://eatinganais.com/" title="http://eatinganais.com/" target="_blank"http://eatinganais.com/
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| Click Click Click |
| 08.03.04 (1:37 pm) [edit] |
The heels hit the floor and things stand still. You hold your breath long enough to listen which way they are going. You let it go when you realize the sound isn’t coming your way.
You need to quit thinking about her. There isn’t anything there that’s going to be good for you. There aren’t random calls. There isn’t an invite to go out. Yeah there is flirting. At your age you are starting to learn that EVERYONE does it. You aren’t that interesting. You sure as hell aren’t going to make her change her mind. Just look at her for a minute and realize that it’s just NOT going to happen. Recognize your own answers and face the reality. Now take a deep breath and let it go. How many times do we need to have this conversation anyway?
“Why are you torturing yourself?” I get asked.
“Well I don’t exactly ask for it,” I say.
For as long as I can remember there they are like flocks. Flirting, grabbing me to dance, sitting on my lap. Am I the innocent bystander? The next thing I know my heart is dropping at the sound of their voice. Should I wear a shirt that reads, “If you are straight stay away from me.” I wonder if this is what Ben Affleck feels like. I mean look at the goon and the ladies just hang out wanting to know him. I mean his money. I don’t have that either. I don’t have money. I don’t have a car. I don’t own fancy clothes. I have a little Buddha belly that makes me self-conscious.
So today when someone asked me what was wrong with me. I didn’t know how to answer. I can’t help what I like for one and I sure as hell can’t help who I am attracted too. Anyone that says that they can is lying. I mean if she quit next week then that would be that. Cause out of sight out of mind. Or something like that. I mean that works sometimes…..sometimes.
You’ll have to excuse this post. It’s just bothering me today. Usually I don’t worry about who I am attracted too. Cause it is what it is as someone used to say.
I’m just not comfortable with it this time, well no I think I felt like this once before. I still struggle with the “not supposed to feel like this” thing. I can’t allow myself to chase dreams cause I can’t allow myself to hurt again. I certainly can’t let myself believe that something is the way it’s not. Then I would be trying to fool myself and I am not playing the fools game again. It’s not for me. I’m not good at it.
I don’t need reassurance. Sometimes things just happen the way they do. I just don’t talk to anyone about these things anymore. You don’t always hear what you want. So its better for me to just write it out. I need to write it for me more than anything else today.
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| The Furlough Whore |
| 08.02.04 (2:01 pm) [edit] |
So I am the only woman that works on this damned weekend program. The last two weeks however I will be the first to admit that I feel kind of bad for getting to ride around in the truck instead of slaving away cleaning the streets of Emeryville. I have managed to learn the secrets on how to stay in the truck. So take notes you futures DUI’ers cause I will be a legend among you.
1. Volunteer to do the bathrooms (this is absolutely necessary). One it allows you to stay near the restrooms while the others empty those nasty fish-head full garbage cans on the pier. (Have you ever got fish-head juice on your clothes??). Two it allows you to stand around for a good hour while the other pinheads are being dropped of at the other locations.
2. If you volunteer to do the restrooms (yes the thought is disgusting but in my case this pier is rather clean) you get to ride around while he checks on the pin-heads and then get dropped off to mop the elevators at the AmTrak. This buys you another hour or so. You get to buy morning snacks at the station and you get to make your morning calls.
3. When you get picked up ALWAYS make sure you sit right next to the boss-man in the front seat, right in the middle. This allows every one else to pile in after you and this also means that you will most definitely not have to get out when he drops at the next site.
4. Always make conversation when you are in the truck alone. This will make the bosses prefer you to be in the car instead of the quiet pinhead that has nothing witty to say. It is not recommended to do this when there are more than two other people in the car they will pick up in the bond and immediately try to move in on the idea.
These little steps will help you ensure a definite free ride. Knowing another language REALLY helps. Lets be honest, Spanish will get you in good with the guys. If they are gentleman they will not let you try to lift the obviously heavy bags. They will tell you to get the hoes (yes the garden tools) out of the way and then proceed to throw the garbage filled bags into the dumpster. **IMPORTANT** (make sure you are not within juice distance cause you really don’t know what those bags are throwing at you). Knowing Spanish will also get you rides home and if you are good (which I know I am) you will get lots of free lunches and beer. Those poor guys didn’t know what hit them. I have about a month left at this particular pier then it’s on to the Berkeley one.
**side note: on NO occasion should you EVER invite one of the pinheads to your house to get drunk with. Against my better judgment and because I had THREE rum drinks during our hour break due to someone having a REALLY good week at their job, it was an idea that was thrown around and after work some of the other guys bailed. So there was one pinhead and me. Not good. Especially since I can never seem to tell when anyone has a thing for me until it’s too late. In this case lets just say there was an attempt to share a kiss and I wound up with spit in my eye. He left shortly after.
My roommate tells me the next day he didn’t mean to interrupt my “date” to which I responded “I got your date”. Asshole. I also made a really drunk phone call to someone that tells me I was being amusing until I hung up on her. There was something about a tree, and the dangers of decorating and me asking her over and over why she was still awake and the spit in the eye-ball thing. I think in my heart I know I said something stupid but because she is sparing me the embarrassment of whatever it may have been that is all I know.
I suppose after an 18 hour day of work on Friday and getting up three hours later on Saturday and then not eating any real breakfast or lunch those Rum’s and nine Tecate’s put me on my ass. To think I actually attempted to try to get ready to meet some friends for a later engagement. Yeah. I attempted a nap and never got back up.
You don’t want to be like me when you grow up kids. Who needs to get laid when you have the Furlough Whore in your world.
p.s. The Work Furlough Program is the weekend work you have to do after you get a DUI. Being that not all of you are deliquents like I am I felt that I should explain what it is.
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