Which is better? Being unhappily surprised or developing a tick from hearing alerts that I created to avoid unhappy surprises?
My pack-rattiness, paranoia, and social avoidance issues are beginning to hurt my back. Damn cell phone ringers and photo caller ID. The sound or sight of these alerts make me physically ill, but when They call, I can avoid the unfiltered surprise. Argh.
7.27.2004
I believe I've been sucked into a parallel universe where what I never thought was possible is oh so true:
1) No cable. No Buffy. No I love the 90s.
2) I need to sleep for at least 7 hours a day.
3) Work consists of ordering people around, meetings, talking on the phone, and drinking coffee. I am a middle manager.
4) I workout. Regularly. I even swim (says the girl of lead).
5) I find Aqua Teen Hunger Force amusing, not just at 1am.
6) I cook. The Chick-fil-a drive-thru people don't recognize me.
7) I find addictions to reconfiguring and painting Warhammer figurines endearing.
8) Calls at midnight are not drunk dialings, but bored "what movie are you watching" moments.
9) Target no longer has a hold on me.
10) Getting drunk and laughing at my friends' stupid antics is no longer fun.
11) I want to throw things away.
Oye, old age is catching up to me. Anyone have a shovel?
1) No cable. No Buffy. No I love the 90s.
2) I need to sleep for at least 7 hours a day.
3) Work consists of ordering people around, meetings, talking on the phone, and drinking coffee. I am a middle manager.
4) I workout. Regularly. I even swim (says the girl of lead).
5) I find Aqua Teen Hunger Force amusing, not just at 1am.
6) I cook. The Chick-fil-a drive-thru people don't recognize me.
7) I find addictions to reconfiguring and painting Warhammer figurines endearing.
8) Calls at midnight are not drunk dialings, but bored "what movie are you watching" moments.
9) Target no longer has a hold on me.
10) Getting drunk and laughing at my friends' stupid antics is no longer fun.
11) I want to throw things away.
Oye, old age is catching up to me. Anyone have a shovel?
7.20.2004
Anger abounds. Full of fun (pain) and sun (shining hot pain) and mind-numbing frustration (self-explanatory), I give you my weekend:
I float....gasping, in an endless pool of slimy, suffocatingly salty water. A 50 pound weight on my chest and only two old disease-ridden parrots for company. One parrot, I will call him Cabron, is alternately stuffing fried fatty foods into my mouth or ripping open my belly and settling amongst my gushing innards. The other bird, Pendeja, is pecking obsessively at my head, punching a hole in my skull and eating my brains, pausing only to squawk the absurd or the obvious,
"The Lowes on the right there, that's where Lowes is."
"There are only two people, white and black, you're white."
"He left his motorcycle in your driveway....he's married."
"There are oranges in Florida."
"Your father likes sluts and he's an old man. That bitch."
"Horses....they eat the grass."
I drove 28 hours, to Florida and back, loading and unloading heavy furniture, in the span of 3 days. All because I got guilt-tripped by the spawn of the devil. Wait, that would make me the spawn of the spawn of the devil. Hmm, accurate, given the rage.
At least I got a nice set of table and chairs, not in the least bit faux-chrome or velour. Things are looking up.
I float....gasping, in an endless pool of slimy, suffocatingly salty water. A 50 pound weight on my chest and only two old disease-ridden parrots for company. One parrot, I will call him Cabron, is alternately stuffing fried fatty foods into my mouth or ripping open my belly and settling amongst my gushing innards. The other bird, Pendeja, is pecking obsessively at my head, punching a hole in my skull and eating my brains, pausing only to squawk the absurd or the obvious,
"The Lowes on the right there, that's where Lowes is."
"There are only two people, white and black, you're white."
"He left his motorcycle in your driveway....he's married."
"There are oranges in Florida."
"Your father likes sluts and he's an old man. That bitch."
"Horses....they eat the grass."
I drove 28 hours, to Florida and back, loading and unloading heavy furniture, in the span of 3 days. All because I got guilt-tripped by the spawn of the devil. Wait, that would make me the spawn of the spawn of the devil. Hmm, accurate, given the rage.
At least I got a nice set of table and chairs, not in the least bit faux-chrome or velour. Things are looking up.