I'm So Lucky You Were Born

...not to hijack your celebration of how great it is for YOU to be alive, but seriously, how would I get through moments like this:

ring ring ring ring

Me: [Unnecessarily long necessary greeting incl. name of company and time of day.]
Pt: Hi. [displeased] I guess I need to talk to your account manager.
Me: [pause] Like, just someone who handles [trepidation] patient accounts?
Pt: Uh, Kshhyeah! [as in helloooo I just took a break from tanning in my bikini to make this call what other kind of account manager is there no duh!]

And I was lucky enough to be able to think, "Oh I gotta write 2 of 1 (as I've newly dubbed you & I b/c it is more apt) about this." So thanks for being born. That gigantic gaping hole in my soul if things had gone differently is inconceivable.

Comments on your celebration to follow.

To be fair, it started in Brooklyn. And Friday WAS a holiday. But I knew I had no business being wrecked with CC in the first place. I couldn't even stand properly to leave at a decent hour. So we watched Cool Hand Luke and made sandwiches in the snackster. When I finally got home, it was way past my bedtime, so I turned on Psych and fell into bed laughing.

When I awoke next morning, I stumbled through the bathroom motions of splashing water in various places and rubbing goo on my teeth to get the gunk off. I looked at my toes and realized the nail polish was chipping off. And as I fiddled with bra straps that wouldn't untwist, it became clear that I did not get up early enough to pull off wearing a dress to work. So instead of completing the look, I shoved my huge feet into skull/crossbone themed slip-ons, then tied a piece of old t-shirt to my head, pretending it was a bandana. At least it matched the dress.

At work, everyone was super cool. While I'm studying for this massive test I have to take,  Paolo comes  to tell me a manager needs to see me downstairs, stat! I'm all nervous until I realize there is not, in fact, a problem. Only a cupcake. Which I couldn't finish, so I shoved it into my locker. I even took it with me after work when CC and Duchess took me to American Apparel after work. Not that I found anything I wanted, but fun times were had trying on hoodies and staring at the mini-vid of the girl making fifteen outfits out of one slinky dress.

The problem was this: everyone asked where I was going to hang out. I didn't have an answer. I got numbers and made vague promised to launch a massive text campaign after dinner. Josh and his dad meet us at Benihana. Tati and Jesus join us for festivities  cause there is nothing more fun than chatting away while a chef tosses shrimp tails into his hat with a knife. It's sweet of Josh's dad to take us out to dinner and we're having such a good time, we invite him to come along for drinks. This is only awkward after I realize that I have nine-hundred text messages to send and I don't even know the name of the place we're going. 

It doesn't help that Tati decides now would be a good time to tell me she's gay. I'm all thinking she's messing with me again, talking about some breakthrough with her therapist. Nope. She was late to dinner because the girl she was making out with is so awesome, they lost track of time. I'm looking just ahead of us to see if Josh's dad is hearing any of this as she explains the liberating feeling of having sex with a girl.

When we get to the bard, I spend the first half hour clambering to keep up with the text conversations I've started, while keeping the vibe with the people sitting in front of me. Emily shows up with someone who's heard an awkwardly disproportionate number of stories about me. We hug and I try desperately to remember what she'd said his name was. Luckily Jonathan shows up when dude goes to the bathroom so I don't have to look like a fool introducing them. Emily cuddles with Josh, we tell stories of practical jokes gone awry, Shauna shows up and all seems well with the world.

Tati's been working thirteen days straight so she's gotta go home. Then CC says she's not comin' out. Which I respect, seeing as how she bought me lunch. But I was looking forward to hanging out. The waiter goes home so we have to settle the tab and start ordering from the bar. I end up putting in $30 to cover my own drinks. Now, it's not like I ordered a round of $10 shots, so I just shell out. Jesus feebly offers to give me twenty bucks, but by then what am I gonna say? On your birthday, friends will usually take the check away from you. If that doesn't happen, it feels a little cheap to be like, "Gimme a twenty to cover part of what I just paid..."  While everyone else avoids eye contact because they don't wanna pay any more than they have already. Cause Josh took us to a mid-town bar that charges 3.75 for a flipping Sprite. 

Then Chad shows up, ready to party. So we keep drinking even though I can tell everyone could prolly call it a night. But Birthday means obligation, so  Shauna buys me a car bomb and Josh puts his dad in a cab. Then, of course, Emily informs me of her plans with Josh. Which start with an F and end with brains out. As she's leaving to move back to London in a couple of weeks, I say "More power to ya!" and promptly order another whiskey.

Once Emily took Joshua home, we decided to blow that popsicle stand and head uptown. Funny how we end up at Sip!, Tati's bar. She finally gets a break from bartending, and we go to her place anyway. This was fun times. Chad and Shauna both live uptown so we're not far from home. Shauna and I got shrimp and Chad shared the Tzaziki that came in a bowl the size of his head. We laughed until they closed at 4 and Chad covered the drinks cause he makes more money than either of us. When we finally rolled out it was pushing 5 and the sun was threatening to show itself. I left the two at my corner and assumed they were going home. 

Josh buzzed in sometime later but I didn't see him. My head was still a little spinny and it was all I could do to press the buzzer. What got me up at 11am was the sudden and irreversible urge to pee! I heard the shower come alive behind the closed bathroom door and I knew I couldn't wait it out. I trotted up to campus and went to the student center. I got juice to nurse my hangover, and only then do I check my phone. It's been on silent since the last bar and there's one new text message. It's from Chad: "I have to wake up at ten. It's almost like what's the point..."  Sent at 5:20am. Too bad I didn't get it till noon. FAIL.

So now I'm on my way to work for a meeting. Maybe some insight before all hell breaks loose Friday. Just had to share the events of the evening.  I don't even quite understand it yet. You'll prolly understand how I feel about the night. I do feel like to dropped the ball there at the end. Sigh. All I've got to show for my weekend is Cool Hand Luke  on my phone. CC put it in my iDisk. Thank heaven for the public folder. Paul Newman makes me feel better about my own failure...to communicate...

Blog needs some PICTURES!

Calling all halves! Now accepting photo submissions! Find below: "Guinness, Staircase, & Soccer" as well as "Nate at The Local"




Surreptitious Shot of Soccer fans and bartender. I wish I had a better photo of this guy--he ran out at one point and took Nate's drink saying, "This beer has WAY too much head. I apologize. Let me fix this for you." Wow.

Hey, I can HEAR you snorting 'loser', y'know!

I do not like this thought upon waking: "Wow. I should definitely have SHUT UP way way sooner than I did last night." I am not sure if that feeling is made better or worse in instances where I went to bed already thinking, "Wow. I should really have shut up." I would like to say that I am a person with patience, someone who has a sense of decorum, someone you might describe as graceful. I would like to be charismatic and energetic enough to win people over to my way of thinking. I would like to be described as effective.

Instead, I sat at a birthday party for my friend last night, drinking too much beer, eating food that I didn't want, yelling about the failure-to-workings of my office. Saying things like, "I'm glad to be leaving," when I really meant, "I'm still frustrated that I haven't done all I could to MAKE it work." The faces of the people I was talking to SHOULD have shut me up. They were reflecting an impatient, imprudent, impudent, cad. A complainer. A psycho. Though I had no choice, it was a real act of bravery for me to rise from bed this morning. It was made no easier by the fact that I was lucky enough to be perfectly spooned against ncd's back and drooling all over his freckles.

I was so happy sleeping. Sleeping transformed a guy who was one of my main stressors yesterday back into the beloved. After all, if her were not so near and dear to my heart, he would not have the ability to be such a pressing source of anxiety, right? Gosh, makes you want to write a love song, right? Something along the lines of "you put my sanity and self image in a garbage compressor just to test it's metal..." I know--pure genius.

So that was Tuesday. Tuesday is normally quite calming what with its being yoga day and all, but when that is what happens when you ditch yoga for drinks.

Have abandoned this post, but thought I should post what I have and then I'll start afresh this week. I think that should be the theme of this week: start afresh...again and again and again if necessary (and it will be).

7pm tonight I'm supposed to meet "the Crew" people at Boca Chica in STP because Sarah Perry is in town. Was in an organizational mood and ready to keep up the 3-week tradition of listening to a stack of records and seeing what it produces, but I'll gladly ditch that for a margarita and SPerry.

ncd is at the MOA with his class today. b went with. I really wish I could see that. Just before his birthday, one of ncd's students asked him if he was going to bring cupcakes and he said he didn't think so, but anything was possible. Said student then went to ncd and said, "Your brother's bringing us cupcakes for his bday." So amused was b that he did, in fact, bring in cupcakes later that week. Ha-sucka!

And for now I'll leave you with this image: last night, I didn't go to sleep until just after 1 am when I finally put down my book, Crispin, after finishing the last of the beer I was drinking. Is that wrong? It felt grrreat!

Found out yesterday that Michael went with my misunderstanding. When I originally wrote him the note telling him we'd probably have to move out (this was at the beg. of May), I stated that we'd be leaving at the end of July. ncd informed me that our lease is up at the end of June, but when we talked to Michael yesterday, he said he was counting on the end of July. This is good in many ways (buys us all some time, for example), but makes the end of July/beginning of August ridiculously busy.

Happy Monday. I cannot believe it is only the time it is.

The Truth About Cats & Dogs

So, I just had a walk through the twilight of my adolescence. 

Janeane Garafalo versus Uma for the adorableness incarnate that is Ben Chaplain.

Sigh!

What's funny is how I couldn't turn it off. I must've seen this film like seven times at the 99 cent theater in Dale City. That and French Kiss. But unlike Cats & Dogs, French Kiss didn't give me that feeling in the back of my throat like my tongue was actually a rope that slid down my esophagus, so that every time I swallowed I felt a yank on the knot that tied it to my stomach. The scene where they decide to get shitfaced and see what happens, both of them vying for his affections? I'd be a different person if my early HS years weren't characterized by that peculiar sensation that comes when you realize someone is indifferent toward you because you're not...you know, someone else.  

Josh always says he would love to go back to seventh grade, armed with the knowledge he has now. You know, to show those bastards what he's made of. To fuck with them a little here and a little there. I fundamentally disagree. If I awoke in the hell that was my seventh grade, I might actually just hitch-hike to Seattle and find Nirvana. Just to say I saw a show. I'd follow the Dead for awhile before Garcia died. If anyone asked why, I'd say "Just because I can". I might convince my parents to buy stock in Microsoft for ten years, then sell it to buy stock in Apple. But I damn sure wouldn't be concerned with the girls who pulled my hair, calling it weave. Or the boys who called me names. The teachers who hated my potential because they figured I'd never live up can kiss my ass. Just like the ones who gave me the wink-and-nod to go forth into greatness deserve my undying respect and affection. But never do I dwell on such stale trauma. Perhaps Josh hasn't had anything major to throw him into existential crisis lately. Perhaps his last point of such crisis was adolescence, and so it's where his story fodder lies. Whatever the case, I find it amusing that he craves to thumb his nose at his pubescent aggressors. While I would much rather fall to my knees in humble prayer, thanking the good Lord that I made it through, limbs intact.

¡Cinco de Mayo!

The first day of the rest of...what, exactly?