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I'm sad today
12.23.04 (8:31 am)   [edit]
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I have to work tomorrow night, which means I cannot be with my family. I need to be with them sometimes. It’s the first year in a very long time that my dad gets to stay home and celebrate as well. I won’t get to see the kids open their gifts. I won’t get to drink some of that warm punch that my aunt makes. I won’t get the midnight hugs and kisses that I need to feel right now. I need the money or I would have asked to switch days but considering that Christmas Day is probably going to be slower than Christmas Eve I made the choice to work.

I’m sad that I couldn’t buy the gifts I wanted because I don’t have a car to go shopping with. No I don’t really NEED one but to find the things that I wanted would have been nice. A lot of the gifts will not be given on time but it’s the thought that counts and I have to be all right with that.

I’m tired and haven’t had the best sleep lately. I’ve been home early enough but it’s all tossing and turning. I’ve been drinking too much but I promised myself a big change for the new year. I’m sure I have said that before somewhere but it just needs to happen. My life has officially become boring. While my roommates are out doing what they do, I sit at home and read books or clean house or watch television or play video games or play on the internet. There are days that I just want lay in my bed.

I need to fix my room but don’t have the drive for it. There are boxes that need to be broken down, dishes to be put away, dishes in the sink, the recycling by the trash needs to be taken out, the laundry in the other room, the bathroom needs to be wiped down, the living room needs to be vacuumed, the counters need to be wiped down, the floor needs to be swept and mopped. Maybe I’ll do it after I work the 15 hour day tomorrow and get up bright and early Saturday. That’s only if I don’t get woken up at 2:30am when my roommates troll in after having a night out on the town. But that’s only after I clean my office at work and break down all the boxes, vacuum the office, clean the bathrooms here first.

I need to watch what I eat, watch what I drink, exercise more, stop waking my roommate up to take me to work so I can walk there instead even though it’s freezing outside and everyone else has a car, which is by no means their fault cause I’m the one that’s overweight.

I am making a fucking vow to never call you again. You can’t pick up the phone and tell me when I good time to drop off the gifts that I got for your daughter (which I didn’t have to do). I’ve only been calling you for the last week. The only time you want to call me is when you don’t have anywhere to go. I’m fucking done with it. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me thinking that we even have some kind of friendship. I’m not sure what the fuck I keep holding on too. I mean really what is it? You treat me like I don’t matter and maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m the one that makes you not want to be around me but right now I’m erasing ALL your numbers. I don’t have them memorized because they are new. I don’t care.

On that note this site is done after this post. It lost all my 2003 and half of the 2004 archives that I had. It’s not worth it. I really hate that I can’t look back on anything that I’ve written both good and bad. I know that my blogging days are over when all I have to write about is the bullshit that happens instead of the “good times” that a person my age should be having.

I’m frustrated, tired, sick and lonely.

“Dramatic” you may be thinking. Yes, absolutely but it’s the way I “feel” and that is more important to me than how you think I am acting.

Oh and for you that really think that I have issues. I'm having an early lunch and you know what I am going to do??? Yeah I'm gonna take two shots back and then a beer with nachos. With LOTS of cheese!
 
Forget her
12.19.04 (2:35 pm)   [edit]

"Don't fool yourself
she was heartache from the moment that you met her
oh my heart is frozen still
as i try to find the will to forget her somehow
she's out there somewhere now"


Jeff Buckley--Forget Her


I have always complimented. I have always told the many, many stories. I've made the many, many comments. I find women to be striking. I find men to be a piece of the element. I've written about "Blue Eyes" (from the fashion show).


Last night when she walked into my bar my knees got weak. I saw her walk by and I recognized her instantly (I never thought I'd see her again). Her bright smile. Her eyes. When our paths crossed we both did the double take. I know she recognized me easily when she smiled. She leaned into her friends and said something and they both turned around to look. I was standing there holding four glasses in my hand. The gay boy patting my butt and all of a sudden I was worried about if she saw it or not.


I bought their first round. I wanted to congratulate the people in charge of the design for their success. One by one they said thank you. My job required me to hand out fliers about our party that is happening tonight. I walk around for a little while handing them out to random people before building up the courage to walk back over to them to ask them to come. I get her name and a brilliant smile again. I don't usually think about asking anything personal about someone when we're out at a club much less when I am work. Never in my twenty-seven years have I thought about putting myself out there. I wanted to know who she was. What does she do? What does she like?


Last night however was different. She was walking toward the patio area and I made it seem like I was going to pick up a glass. She stopped and said hello. I took it and ran with it. She looked me straight in the eyes (most girls don't do that). We had a fifteen minute conversation about where she goes, what she does, how she liked the show, will she be there for the spring show. If I didn't know any better she made herself seem interested. The eye contact. The smiles. The short but constant hello's.


About the same time that I start talking to "Blue Eyes" I get a call from "Her". I didn't know it was her number but she called to let me know she had changed it. We talked briefly about what she was doing. Why she had called. I tell my roommate that it was an Omen.


I will write this much. I don't believe in "love at first sight". I don't really take into consideration when people look at me. I am the basic anti-social when it comes to girls that I am interested in. I am the one to buy a drink and walk away but last night I felt that if I didn't do it I'd regret it. So at the end of the night when the lights came up I said goodbye to her friends and watched her walk away. I called her name once. If she didn't here me then that was ok with me but did and she turned around with a smile.

"I need to ask you something," I said. My heart was beating. What am I doing? "Are you seeing someone?"


She got this look in her eyes, "I'm kind of seeing more than one person."


"Look don't feel bad for not giving me your number. I just kicked myself for a while for not asking you the first time," I respond.


She brushes my hand, "Thank you."


I am confused but not hurt. I couldn't expect anything more than that of course. I take a lock of her curly hair, "You should call C***. I don't usually tell anyone that but I really think you should get your picture taken with him."


"Ok," she says as she squeezes my hand.


I sqeeze back, "Maybe I'll see you around."


She gives me a hug, "I hope so."


So now I am here literally dreaming of her. I want to erase last night. Only cause I feel that I should have not said anything at all. I read it wrong or did I?
 
Who can I call?
12.17.04 (1:19 pm)   [edit]
I’m sitting here on the eve of our company party. I feel sick to my stomach. My sister crying on the other line. My head spins. She made me paranoid yesterday. She told me last week about her dreams. I kissed her fore head and told her not to worry so much that this time things were going to be different.

Who can I call?

I’m sitting her and I’m grinding my teeth. Holding back tears that I will not shed. Not this time. It’s my sister that I’m thinking of. I remember what it feels like to finally break. To have everything you believe shattered. I’ve thought about death and how recovery isn’t easy. I thought of why she couldn’t be addicted to her pain killers instead. Anything but the liquor.

Who can I call??

I could go down the list. Then I think What for?. You want them to feel sorry for you? You want them to take it away? You don’t have that cushion with the relationships you have now. It seems like everyone is a wall. I don’t like walls. Lately everyone seems cut off. So far away from each other. Even me. Even if you are sitting right in front of me. I’m not really looking at you. I’m just looking at you.

Who can I call???

Finally the silence says back. No one.

Yeah that’s right. No one…..cause everyone has something else to worry about.
 
Come have some coffee
12.16.04 (10:14 am)   [edit]
“Hey come have some coffee,” she tells me.

“No I’m good,” I tell her. I’m already drinking way too much as it is. Last night I was told that coffee is not good for the lining of the stomach. I have never heard this before. I know that coffee is not good to have an a regular basis but now even more so it makes me conscious every time I take a sip. Like I needed ANYTHING else to be conscious of every time I put it into my mouth. But this is not about that.

“Really I think you should come have some coffee,” she says again.

I look up at her and she’s doing that not so obvious glance with her eyes. The “come look you idiot” one. The one that we all use when we want someone to see what we are seeing. So I get up because I am now curious. We have new neighbors. From what I can tell they are older, yoga loving, hot body, pilates doing hipsters. (I’ll explain how I came up with this as the story goes). They have really big windows without any type of curtains or shades so one can usually see what’s happening next door. Of course since I wash the dishes I get to see what’s going on most of the time. It all started when this same co-worker came in one day while the neighbor’s started moving in.

“Have you seen the girls moving in??” she asked.

“Yeah they look pretty cool,” I say. (They had Buddha heads and really amazing artwork lying around in the office. I told you that you could see everything)

“Ok well have you seen the Exercise pants girl?” she says.

“What?” I ask laughing.

“The Exercise Pants Girl. The one walking around with the great ass in spandex. Didn’t spandex go out years ago?” she says.

“Why are you looking at her ass?” I ask her.

“Well for one it’s nice and mine doesn’t look like that. For two it’s kind of hard not too in the spandex,” she responds (she is absolutely serious and I am struggling to keep a straight face.)

“Well maybe she works out and you know you get what you put in,” I answer.

We are standing by the window having a complete conversation about our neighbors spandex wearing ass.

“Look. There she is,” she says quickly.

Of course I’m going to look. I founded NASA remember??? (Nice Ass Starer Anonymous) She has a great ass. I mean she obviously works out. It’s written in the way her body moves. Her whole physique is strong.

“Hmm you are right. It’s nice,” I say.

So for a week now we’ve been spying on the neighbors. I know it seems ridiculous but its true. My co-worker has dubbed the exercise pants girl “The Nymph” because she’s really petite with short stylish black hair. Which brings to mind that I really think she needs to come out of the closet and just be the gay woman she was meant to be.

This is the list I have composed which brought me to the conclusion of them being hipsters:

-Their carpet was done in an orange and green checkered pattern.
-The Nymph takes of her shoes off when she works
-The Buddah heads
-There is a yoga mat by the door in the other office.
-They wear low-rise jeans with professional tops. (Very cute by the way)

I forgot to mention the hot older guy that likes to switch his shirt in plain daylight so you can see his muscular figure in the middle of the day. It’s my favorite time. It reminds me of the time all the girls would be back 15 minutes prior so we could watch this older Marine run by our office all sweaty and half naked. Yum. Wait I’m wandering again. Back to this morning. I get up and sure enough The Nymph is wearing cute jeans but she’s bent over looking at some report with a co-worker I’m sure. So there we are two girls (one straight (yeah right) one not so straight (that’s me)) taking in the scene.

“Wow she does have a nice ass,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says.

If I could stand outside of myself I am almost positive that it would have been one funny scene. We stood there for more than a minute absolutely admiring this woman’s body. Not in that perverted way but really just admiring her muscles and contour of her figure. It felt funny and I looked at my co-worker and started laughing.

“What would she think if she turned around and saw us completely checking her out,” I said.

“We aren’t checking her out dude. We are just looking at her physique,” she answers.

“You aren’t serious right? We are absolutely standing here looking at her ass. Plain as day and we aren’t even trying to hide behind the bushes!” I say back.

“Pssshh, I wasn’t checking her out,” she says as she walks away.
“You are ridiculous!” I yell at her.

I come sit down and write you this story because by definition we were TOTALLY checking this woman out. We had decided to share the scene with The Really Gay women in our office. BIG mistake. She reminds me of those boys that run around during recess pulling on girl’s hair. She starts bouncing off the walls and making a ruckus. I didn’t think grown people really acted like that. I mean I can feel my inner child all the time but you don’t see me giggling and jumping up and down like a kid in a schoolyard.
 
In My Dream
12.14.04 (11:42 am)   [edit]
There was a soft lull in the dimly lit room. My back was turned towards you. I can’t turn around because you may not really be there. My head rests against the cool wall. I wait because that’s what I am good at.

”Why are we here again?” Your voice breaks the silence that I’ve come to know.

“Why are we always here?” I ask you.

It hurts to breathe. I may miss something you say.

”I can’t give you what you need. You know that.”

“I do and you always find a way to remind me.”

”What do you want from me?”

My mind races with all the answers I want to say, “What ever you are willing to give.”

”You say that but I know that it’s not good enough.”

Everything is soft. The air. Your voice. The smell of the stillness. I don’t want to shatter it again. Let’s keep it like this.

“Do you miss me?”

”What would you like me to say? That I think of you often? That I wish things were different? That I need you?”

“I don’t want you to lie to me,” I say softly.

”Then forget me.”

“If it were that simple I would have already.”

”I love you and you know that but that’s all it is.

“Is that all I’ll ever be? Just a feeling.”

”Yes.”

“Of course, I forget sometimes.”

”You let yourself forget.”

The room is cold now. The wall is no longer comforting. I know you are gone. I turn around to find nothing but blackness. My eyes cannot adjust because I don’t know what I am looking for.
 
Cream
12.13.04 (12:47 pm)   [edit]
It’s 11pm when we get to the door. Before that we had taken a bottle of Triple Black Vodka to the head in the car. I’m not as talented as I used to be when it comes to hard liquor. The liquid burned on the way down and I felt a sudden warmth in my tummy. I shiver slightly and tell J that I’m not drinking that whole thing.

“I won’t make it to the door if I do,” I said. I cough a little and the after taste is completely horrendous.

He laughs at me and takes another swig. He is trying to control his reaction for my sake but I can see his skin goose up a little. One more down and we are out of the car. The night air hits me. I put my hands in my pocket as we walk toward the door. I’m thinking ”What am I doing out?”. Then I see the curly haired, pouty lipped, fishnet wearing go-go dancer standing on the inside of the door. I look at J and he reads my mind and grins from one ear to the other.

“I think I’m getting buzzed already,” I say. “Might as well have put an IV in me and called it a night.”

He shakes his head at me and soon we are inside the bar. I needed to get to the ATM machine. I am standing in line and then it dawns on me. There are nothing but girls in here. Girls that feel the same way I do. I can hear the bass coming from the dance floor. I am taking in the scene. I can feel my inner gayness screaming to get out. I gotta be cool. I gotta be calm. I gotta be collected. When all I really wanted to do is run around like a mad woman and grab the first cute girl I saw and take her to the bathroom to do dirty things with. It’s not like me to feel that way. When I am out I am there to keep company with my friends. Have a few beers dance a few songs. It is my nature to be shy and smile when I make eye contact and that is usually where the story ends.

We order two long islands and walk into the first room. The bass line is pumping as the hip-hop music spins. The room is dimmed with blue lights vs the usual multi-disco lighting that you find in all clubs. The go-go dancers are gyrating to the rhythm of the beat as most of the crowd watches. Their bodies glisten with sweat. I don’t know why I know but the stage lights are really hot when they shine on you. It must be hot up there. I think to myself amongst other things. I tell J to walk up to the second floor so we can see the crowd better. Once up there we lean over and watch as everyone comes together in one fluid motion.

We eventually move on to the second room. Once in the hallway you can hear the music shift rhythms. We walk into a dimly lit green room. The energy in there is on high. There is something to be said about Latin music. It makes my heart race. I am automatically already shaking my hips. I look back at J and give him a smile.

“This is my room!” I yell.

There is this fast energy that comes from watching them move. They spin they stop they get back into the rhythm. It finds you. It calls you. It moves you. We find a seat on a black leather couch by the DJ booth. We spot a cute male/female couple dancing and we wanted to check the vibe. It’s fun trying to figure out who is what in places like these. Gay? Straight? Curious? Lonely? All of the above perhaps? J gave me “the” look. The guy was handsome in that homo-thug(this is a real term by the way) kind of way. He had on a blue button shirt with a wife beater on underneath which hugged his chest nicely. His Dickies had a crease going down both sides and he was wearing a blue web belt. J was drooling and I tell him that I’m gonna go check out the last room. It has a “No Men” sign on it and he stays downstairs.

The red room is different. It has it’s own bar but the feel up there was a lot more undercover. There was a place in the back where the girls where stripping. I promised the DJ that I would come say hello before getting there. The music wasn’t as intense up there. In fact it felt lonely up there. Most of the girls were glued to the strippers on the little stage. Some had dollar bills out. I didn’t stay long enough to really see any of the dancers. I bought the DJ a beer and told her that I was going to go back downstairs. I met up with her later and explained that the vibe was a little off up there. I thought of old men with fat-fingers. She laughed at me and told me that it’s not for everyone. I don’t mind strippers. I don’t mind strip clubs or maybe it was just the mood I was in that night. I didn’t want to be up there with the other lonely souls sticking dollar bills in a straight girl’s thong who wouldn’t even look twice your way on any given day.

I walk back downstairs and tell J that he is not missing anything. By now mind you I am getting buzzed. After the swigs of Vodka and the long island which I sucked down as soon as we got in there I was tipsy. I told J after the third drink that I couldn’t drink anymore. I didn’t want to come off as an asshole while I was in there. Every time I would go to the bar however was another story. If you were standing next to me and you were cute I was buying you a drink and if your girlfriend seemed ticked off I’d buy her one too. Cheers to all! Have a good night! Maybe we’ll dance later! Then the homo-thug is standing next to me. His shirt is off and you can see his tattoos. I comment on them and ask him why he’s there. The conversation goes something like this and it gets explicit.

“I came with my cousin. I’m from LA but she wanted me to come with her to this,” he says over the music.

“Oh so you’re straight?” I ask.

“Hell no girl. I’m wondering where all the cholo’s are so I can get my dick sucked,” he says laughing.

I choke on my beer, “Well you are in SF and most of the guys here are really twinkie.” (yes I know that not ALL of them are but come on?)

“Hell no girl I need me a thug. Someone that can just uh-uh you know,” he says as he thrusts his hips forward.
I laugh and buy him a drink, “Well good look finding it here.”

He grabs himself, “Damn man and I’m horny as fuck too.”

I laugh and he walks with me back to the dance floor. As I am walking in J notices who is standing next to me and his eyes are darting back and forth. Perhaps a little confused. I hold up two beers and shrug my shoulders. The thug and I part ways but not before he kisses me and tells me that he hopes one of us “gets some tonight”. From there the night is in pieces. I know that J and I danced all night (this was even more evident Sunday morning because my back hurt all day). I know that I saw some familiar faces and we mingled and moved on. I know that someone grabbed me in the crowd and gave me a big hug after we told each other not to tell anyone we saw each other there. I know that I danced with her and her cousin the rest of the night and left J to fend for himself. I know that at the end of the night I had gone to say goodbye and I gave her a peck. I believe she thought I was trying to make-out with her cause she leaned in again.

I was so lit but coherent all night. I think it had to do with the dancing and the sweating. We got home just as Cruzando was crossing the bridge. I tell him we’ll wait up for him and then we trade stories. We got to bed around 5am and didn’t get up until 1130am the next morning. I had a slight hangover but nothing a hot shower couldn’t cure.

I’m glad I went. I don’t usually agree to go but the night was good for me. Nothing truly extraordinary came of it but it was me with a good friend having a good time.
 
The Fashion Show
12.10.04 (9:52 am)   [edit]
It took a hot lady to get me out of the house. I went on a whim. She asked me to go and after a little coaxing I said ok. I should have been going anyway to support my roommate but I was being selfish. Sometimes I do that and I forget to think of others. Regardless I was excited. As we were getting ready he brought the camera out and brushed the dust off. He gets this light in his eyes. He’s organized in that disorganized way. He plays with the flash to make sure it works. He loads the film. He counts the rolls of film and throws in extra batteries. I tell him he looks like a guido with his two button down ruffled peach shirt, hairy chest and the gold chain that hangs off his neck. He laughs but continues to make mental notes of what he may or may not need. He stops to put one hand on his hip and bites his nail on the other (he does that when he’s nervous or making a mental check list).

I make a call to see where my escort was. She tells me she’s on the way. I’m excited. I like her company. She’s smart. Mostly when her guard is down she’s funny and sweet but that is rare. She reminds me of the feline species. Not the homely cats but the one’s you see in the jungle. Beautiful but if you get too close she’ll bite. There is something about her that I like. I haven’t been able to pin point it just yet.

We get to the theatre. Cruzando is inside. He tells me that we have a table by the stage on the first floor. Just as we get in they close the doors to the theatre. There is no more seating. I tell them we are with the photographer and they let us in. We find my favorite couple sitting at our table. They are cozy and gorgeous as always. We make introductions. We order a pitcher of beer and watch the show. There are women everywhere. Of all kinds. Of course I’ve got my eyes on the ones with the heels on. I’m waving at my husband as he runs back and forth from the stage. I don’t think it would have been something I would have attended had it not been for the invitation from The Mistress (that’s what my roommate calls her so that’s how I’ll address her on here) and the fact that he was shooting.

I had a really good time. I was excited to be out. With good company having good times.
After the show we were standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Cruzando to finish up. There was this short blue-eyed girl standing across from us. I hadn’t seen her during the show. I think she was on the other side of the theatre. I saw her looking once as I was scanning the end of the crowd. I don’t think of it when it happens. I usually think they are looking at whoever is standing next to me or behind me in this case. I was leaning against one of the girls and she was leaning against a wall. When they called for the cast to go back to the stage for final shots she walked between my group and my roommate who was standing across from me. I was standing there. My hands in my pocket looking around the room.

“Damn she looked at you twice over,” someone says.

“Yeah she did,” my roommate adds.

“Who?” I ask.

“The one you were looking at earlier,” they answer.

“She was looking at me?” I ask.

“Yeah. Twice.” Someone says.

“Oh. She’s kinda hot huh?” I say.

Cruz starts to head back towards the stage, “Come on.”

We line up and head back too. I love being his groupie sometimes. Because I am a retard and sometimes I don’t get things I totally messed up the chance to meet her. He tells us to come up front and hold his lens for him. Ok I think and grab his bag to go sit with the girls on the couch. He tells me after that it was plot for getting me closer to where she was. DOH . Another one bites the dust people. She had a great energy on the stage as they were posing. I comment to him about giving her his card. Hopefully she calls and I’ll get to hold the lens properly this time.
 
Why is it so funny?
12.09.04 (10:46 am)   [edit]
This morning I woke up groggy. I got lit last night for no reason in particular. I took a Vicodin (I am officially out) drank a bottle of cheap wine and then had some uhm other substances.

I remember trying to understand the actual dynamics of using a bong. My roommate and our friend were explaining it to me but I lost it somewhere in the haze. I felt like I was in school again and they were looking at me like I was from outer space cause I had questions. We watched the Billboard Awards and of course Miss Keys sang her song and I crooned right along. I feel bad for whoever watches television with me. I sing to everything. I’m sure most people want to knock me over or pray that I have to pass out soon but I usually don’t. My roommate decides he is hungry and they go grocery shopping at 930pm. He is in his pajama’s. When he comes back he’s got six bags in his hand,” Never send me shopping again when I’m high.” I just shake my head. I’m sure we talked about things but I can’t tell you what. I know that I was harassing our friend cause that’s what I do sometimes. It was all in fun though and I’m sure she’ll forgive me.

I think I am still high. One because everyone is really funny this morning. Two my eyes won’t open all the way and I even used eye drops to clear the redness out. There is no hang over just a really heavy, goofy feeling. The kitten has come to my desk and offered me a bagel with cream cheese. She then proceeds to tell me that my hair has grown really fast and then she touches me. A few minutes later she comes to get her yogurt out of the fridge and proceeds to lick the tin cover. I don’t understand. I mean I do because I guess people do that all the time. Right? I just want to bite her. That's all just once.

I haven’t decided whether I like being high or not. More experiments are needed before I can decide. I know I like the general effects because I love laughing so of course anything that makes me giggle is going to be a good thing. The combination of last night however is not a favorite. I went from being buzzed to feeling numb to not knowing how to feel and then I had to go to bed.

My postings have been so random. I need to work on a story I think. I was supposed to go to a show with Cruzando tonight. He is shooting a gig for a butch fashion show. I’m going to pass. I know he won’t be alone and it’s not really my thing I guess. I’m going to stay home and watch movies and stay away from substances.
 
Sitting Across from me
12.08.04 (7:52 am)   [edit]
He is about 6’2. He has light blue eyes and a sharp jaw line. He always has a five o’clock shadow that I want to run my fingers over. Usually he wears sweats or shorts to class. You can tell that at some point in his life he has shaved his legs. He has short, curly brown hair. He is a personal trainer at the gym here in Berkeley and he is delicious. Not in that I want to marry you kind of way. It’s more like that come home with me and I’ll see you around after kind of way. Last night he came in with his million dollar smile. He was talking about failing his real estate class. Last night he also wore jeans for the first time and when he sat across from me I couldn’t help but notice how they hugged his thighs. I stared at his shoes for the rest of the night. Letting my eyes wander up to his knees and then back down.

Through out class I thought about wrapping my legs around his Abercrombie waste. I thought about how I needed someone to just break me. To take everything away. Maybe it was his jeans and how he wore his hat real low. You could barely see his baby blues. We are supposed to be taking the make-up classes together. If I hadn’t been such a crybaby about having to go I could have been done yesterday.

I wasn’t in the mood for anything. After 5 shots of tequila, a vicodin and 2 melatonin I still couldn’t get any solid sleep. When my alarm went off this morning I put my pillow over my head and pushed the clock off my bed. I listened to the rain against the window and I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to lay there with my pillows and my warm blankets all day. Instead I am sitting here at my uneventful job typing this story because I have nothing positive to say.
 
Tonight
12.07.04 (3:01 pm)   [edit]
After the two and half hours of riding on public trans and walking in this cold ass weather and my boring ass class tonight I am going to go home drink Tequila, pop a vicodin, and play my video game while the music plays in the background. Fuck my doctor. I'm gonna do what I want.

damn it.......
 
My So Called Fat Life
12.07.04 (8:22 am)   [edit]
Listen here kids. My life these last two years has been one roller coaster after another. I went to see the doctor yesterday due to the fact that this hacking cough will NOT go away. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t something more serious. I am a sickly person. Something is always wrong with me. It’s always one or the other headaches, backaches, allergies, colds or coughs. I have a weak immune system. I am one with my faulty ass body. But I don’t recall giving it permission to absolutely blow up into a butterball.

Dramatic you may say? Oh no. I have gained 50 pounds since I have been out of the Marine Corps. Yeah that’s right 50. Now I can blame this on a number of things but I won’t because I’d just be trying to fool myself. The doctor has told me that I need to change my diet and take better care of myself. While there is nothing seriously wrong with me she gave me a number of things that I need to start doing to help me not be so sick. Just like everything else it is my own doing. I knew that I wasn’t taking care of myself. Not having a proper diet or exercise routine and sitting on the couch all the damn time was bound to catch up. I knew it. I needed to hear it perhaps but not really. Yesterday I went to bed at 9pm. I felt exhausted and depressed.

Who wants to here that they have to lose weight (yet again) and even though it is for positive reasons I hate feeling like a lard ass. I would post my weight on here but the number is ridiculous. It makes me sick to my stomach when that number rolls around in my head.

Change….change…..change……I’m tired of it all. Bleh……….
 
Tickin Away
12.03.04 (1:13 pm)   [edit]
The clock above the bar
Is telling me it's 12:15
It's not such a gentle reminder
That I'm where I shouldn't be
I just keep waiting for something to happen
Waitin' for somebody to come walkin' in
Somebody as perfect as you were
So I can try it again
(But) chances are so hard to come by
And the second one is impossible to find
The clock keeps runnin' and the odds keep getting higher
That it's all just a fantasy of mine
But I shouldn't be thinkin' about it
I shouldn't be worried about it
It's just a clock on the wall
But it's tickin' away
It's tickin' away
It's tickin' away
It's tickin' away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
There ain't nobody in the world like you, baby
If there was she wouldn't be coming in here
But I shouldn't be thinkin' about it
I shouldn't be worried about it
It's just a clock on the wall
--Tim McGraw


I was sitting here this morning with all kinds of things running through my mind (oh that’s not new I know). Then it dawned on me as the song posted above played that I haven’t sat in a bar to wallow in my drink in a long time. Yes I know I am still drinking but it’s not longer alone and it’s always in good company. I miss it. I miss going to the jukebox and playing whatever I wanted in a dive bar and just sitting there letting both the music and booze take me where ever it wanted to go. It didn’t matter who was in there or what they were doing. I would watch people. I would wonder what it was that made them laugh so loud. There was always at least one old man sitting at the end of the bar. I wondered if that’s where I would wind up if I wasn’t careful enough. Sometimes someone would come sit next to me strike up a conversation. After a while they’d buy me a drink. I’m a good conversationalist when its called for other times I’m just good at pretending I hear you. The best part was when they would slide the dollar bills over to my side so that the jukebox could keep playing. “She knows what she’s doing. Go play something *****.” I’d look at the bills. I’d wonder if they all felt the same way. I’d play all kinds of moods and the more we drank the easier it was to slide in and out of them.

I didn’t worry too much about the hang over until the next morning when it hurt to open my eyes and the sweat smelled of alcohol no matter how many showers I took. I swore off liquor long enough to re-cooperate and hydrate only to do it again a few days later. What amazes me as my own changes come along is that I know that I am not alone. I know that there are people out there that do it everyday. In and out. Day after day. I suppose I chose to label myself as an alcoholic because when people tell you something day after day you start to believe it.

I forget where this post was going……maybe I’ll elaborate later. Maybe I won’t.
 
Blue Balls
12.02.04 (9:03 am)   [edit]
So in my many random and some how enlightening conversations that I can have this one really made me laugh today:

(ME) : I’m really glad I don’t have a penis today
(HE) : We would all be in trouble
(HE): Hey what about your imaginary one... you better hope you don't get imaginary blue balls
(HE): I heard your tits could swell up for three days
(HE): the only way to relieve it is excessive masturbation....
(HE): In your case..... your screwed and not in the way you want
(ME): wow where did all that come from
(HE): I though it would be funny
(ME): creative for sure
(HE): but funny right
(ME): hmmmm….it would definitely explain the increase in breast size these last couple of years

I am thoroughly amused.
 
Snot Bubble
12.01.04 (10:17 am)   [edit]
I’ve never had a snot bubble before so you can imagine my surprise when this morning as I walked to work (yes walked I only live 20 minutes away by foot and it’s exercise) when my nose released one bubble. I had my headphones on, two sweaters (cause it was really cold this morning and I’m still sick) and just walking along listening to Portishead. You know as always just minding my business when I breathe once and there it is this bubble. It pop’s and I am reminded of the little boy from “Bad Santa” when he first meets the elf (If you have not seen this movie and have a sense of humor I suggest you do. It’s hilarious).

The reason it was bad was because a) I didn’t have any tissue on me b) I wasn’t anywhere that I could pick any up c) I had snot coming out of my nose. I don’t know what caused it to happen (the obvious answer would be that I am sick) but usually it just runs or something. It’s not supposed to bubble up like gum and then pop. It happened so fast. So I did what any normal person would do. I scrunched my nose up and took a deep breath through my nostrils trying to get as much of it up as I could. Then I took a piece of paper from my notebook and dabbed at my nose. Drastic measures for drastic times.

I came into work to wash my face in case I had snot on the side of my cheek or something. I hate being sick. My nose looks like Rudolph, I have dark circles under my eyes, my body is achy and I just don’t plain like it!