Sunday’s feel like funeral days to me. they are mopey and dull and looming ahead of them is 5 days of living without saturday. Sunday is a day for mourning saturday. My sunday’s usually consist of trying not to waste the day counting down how many hours I have until work starts. depressing, huh? They are just so drab and although they make great lounging days there is a darkness to them–like sitting at a funeral and wishing it would get over so you can go eat and leave.
Usually my Sundays consist of:
1. sleeping until 11 and then feeling guilty b/c I didn’t get up earlier. I hate being unproductive. but seriously, if i were awake before 11 i’d just mope about listlessly.
2. laundry.
3. making a yummy meal. i view the sunday meal as sort of a death rowers last meal. only, if all goes well and I don’t expire at my place of work during the week, i get another last meal next sunday.
4. reading a book. and occasionally writing.
5. wincing every time i think of going to work
6. not getting dressed. I wear a white trash t-shirt that says, “What? I’m out of bed and dressed, what more do you want from me?” my boyfriend hates it and i can’t help but keep it around even though i hate it too.
7. staring off in oblivion. almost all sundays include some form of hangover. this hasn’t changed for about 8 years. 1/2 of sunday is a fuzzy headache and a blank, empty stare at the wall –this is actually in-depth contemplation of my station in life.
8. brain straining. thoughts like this: if i did just get up and leave could i honestly be a cleaning lady in hawaii? would hawaii piss me off just as much as this place? how come the US health care system is so SHITTY–why do i have to have a job in order to have health insurance? that is why so many americans stay in jobs they hate.
9. non-alcoholic calming. after the brain straining i have to come back to terms with being myself and going back to a predictable, unwelcome week of blah blah blah.
10. channel flipping. sitting in that part of sunday that falls before or after oblivious staring. usually falling on the food network and watching that annoying ass guy with the dyed blond hair… and ninja warrior.
that’s how my sunday goes. how do you spend your sunday?
In an act of girlfriend duty today I went to see the movie The Dark Knight. My boyfriend shook in pure excitement in his seat and he kept saying “this is going to be so bad ass”. I haven’t a clue what excited him so, the $10.75 for IMAX tickets, the $4.50 for a fountain soda or the fact that the people 2 seats away brought in their 6 month old baby–but he was all wound up for BATMAN. woowee.
I put my negative attitude intact and kept the eyeball rolling to an “only when something unbelievable happens” condition–it was a good pact with myself b/c there wasn’t any way possible I could have rolled my eyes for a straight 2.5 hours–15 minutes in and I was pass-out-dizzy, so I didn’t roll my eyes again. It reminded me of the time I played the Deadwood (western on HBO) drinking game. I was supposed to take a shot of whisky at every swear word–EPIC FAIL. When “fuck” is said as freely as “the” I couldn’t even lift the glass to my lips anymore. Much like my eyes were a pinball in my head when Batman turned cell phones into sonar machines or when he fell/jumped from a penthouse window to land on a taxi and leave A-OK. The taxi wasn’t as strong as Batman. It got a little … dented. But hey, when he showed that taxi who Batman was my IMAX seat shuddered, so everyone wins.
I actually managed to enjoy this grim tale. When Batman’s car self-destructed into a motorcycle that he blazed off into the Gotham underworld on–I felt justice well up in my eye. yeah bitches, thats right batman has a carcycle!! eat that.
Hello out there.
I was gone and now I’m back to the internets. Ignoring my blog was somewhat painful and ignoring all those blogs that I read every day was even more painful. I have so much to catch up on. I feel like I did in college when I missed a week and came back to stacks I never thought I could comprehend. It makes you want to quit. But quit I will not. Ahoy.
My parody of this silly, silly saga. I was reading along and had this nagging feeling that i could not ignore. I had to mock.
It is just another day in dreary, misty Cutlery County. I peeked out my little window. The earth was dark and squishy from constant rain and I thought to myself “that it is probably slippery”. I tended to fall down often because I have a psychological disorder that keeps me from having a brain. It’s called….something, I can’t remember but it is a very serious disorder and causes me to fall down stairs, run toward danger and realize way too late that I am doing something I shouldn’t be. This is how I met Deadward, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. Read the rest of this entry »
not for lack of inspiration have I not been blogging–there is almost too much to stop and think about. i’m almost afraid to stop and think about it. there has been some good, great even. there has been the muddle and then, of course, that broken bramble called Hell.
On June 9th, I went to the DMB concert. This year I stayed sober so as not to miss the concert by ambulance ride to ER. I’ve never been that girl before, I’m usually the drunk one that goes off to puke it off in the woods and come back for more. Not last year. A mix of 90 degrees, hours of tailgating on asphalt, beer, jungle juice, pot, xanax, no food or water and a medication that causes seizures fucked with me. Yeah, yeah, i deserved it. Luckily last years set list wasn’t this year’s. OH MY GOD.
having tickets that allow you to pass by 10 guards who each take a flashlight to the location line of the ticket, nod, and step aside to let you keep proceeding down the aisle TO THE 6TH ROW, is something I could learn to get used to.
Dave Matthews stood directly in front of me. I could practically smell his breath. Some deadbeats in Row 5 never showed so my 6th & center arrangement was sparse and loud. just the way i like it. I had to pee but every song that came on was too worthy. I finally had to bust to the bathroom when he started up Gravedigger. It was raining out. The day had a thick, humid gym towel around your neck feeling at about 93 degrees. the rain mixed with darkness and Dave’s knowing voice humming out “so that I can feel the rain” became one of those moments of peaceful content that come around about once a year, like Christmas or a Victoria’s Secret sale. Funny where these can strike–a line to the ladies room never made me so happy.
Today I am leaving for Pomona, CA., for a work conference. For 4 days I’ll be doing that, laptopless, and then I’m taking 6 days with a rented Focus to check out San Diego. Last night I packed for 3 hours. I’m scared that my suitcase will be very heavy and I’ll be charged an extra fee for its heft. Also, I’m scared that I don’t have enough. I don’t know how the hell to pack for this trip. It’s 73 in San Diego and hot as hell but work related in Pomona. Sigh.
I have to leave soon and i still have to pack my non clothes items. I just couldn’t go without telling you, my 5 readers, that I have not flown the coop entirely. Wish me luck in Cali.
4 girls congregate in circle, talking so that I can only hear S’s and T’s. They are all wearing a short jean skirt with a frilly tank top with mid-riff sweater. you know the sweater, you’ve all tried one on, took one look in the mirror and said “i look like an ass”.
well, they looked okay on these girls because these girls are shaped like hangers. hangers always have the greatest looking outfits.
they all giggle, coo, hair toss, tug at various sections of clothing and girl 1 walks away. girls 2, 3, 4 all wave and say goodbye as #1 goes out the door smiling.
2, 3, 4 rehuddle and laugh uncontrollably, I distinctly hear “skank” and “you’re way better looking than ….”and then they each take turns walking out the door mocking the way girl 1 walked out.
??????
I am reading a book by Eric Weiner; The Geography of Bliss. The author travels to different cities around the world investigating levels of happiness. So far I have learned that Iceland and The Netherlands both are very happy places to live in. People here claim to have, for the most part, overall contentment. He does a fun job of explaining the atmosphere of the people and giving the reader a feel for why these people act this way.
In Switzerland it is illegal to flush your toilet after 10pm (according to this book anyway).
I’m not sure if this is a way to conserve water or to quiet the hysteria of midnight flushing–or what the consequence may be for rebellious flushers sinking their 1AM doodoo. Is this a crime the regional forces would come hunt you down for or is it something that causes your neighbor to have to give you ‘a look’?
Are there toilet police?
Also, I found out that one of the decisions that usually results in the most amount of satisfaction and happiness is …..breast implants.
I’m still not finished reading this. It has kept me occupied for days and is actually quite enjoyable. I like the statistics and little known facts and now I know that if I should decide to move to Iceland and get a boob job I probably won’t run into any depression.
How about you? Where were you when you were happiest?
The past couple of days have been crass to me. Without going on and on by bemoaning the plethora of events that zapped my inspiration and energy, I’ll just tell you that I had to run, yes run, up the stairs to my bedroom at 6pm yesterday so I could hide under the covers. I was afraid the universe would tackle me with another blatant attack.
It’s up there, the Universe, leaning over Itself, staring through opera glasses to judge–is that Amy down there lolly-gagging and smiling? Is she trying to be happy???
**BOOM** **ZAP** **POW**
all street lights fail, beer bottles explode, internet connection down, dishwasher dead, credit card unpaid, pants don’t fit, boyfriend clueless, spider on KITCHEN table skitters toward me…
I’m not joking. all incongruousness vied me within about 2 hours. it was literally like someone with power saw that my day wasn’t flawed and they Had to put a stop to it. well, my unflawed wagon is fixed. it’s totally fucked up now. thank you.
there is goal-tending. multiple fouls, with every movement in basketball there is some sort of whistle loving referee there to call out the damn sloppiness. there are players who are “old as shit” and ones bigger than Goliath, Garnett should be on Heroes. there are allioops, bench stats–(how warm the bench gets?) there is a lot of this: lanky orangutan arms thrown toward the sky, mouths gaping, heads shaking back and forth cartoon style (think the Wylie coyotes head as the ringer inside a bell) eyes darting from coach to ref in disbelief–This is bullshit, I did not just ram my Goliath orangutan mustang of a body full force into yours, skid you across the acre of waxed floor boards and then float by innocently like a turd just flushing on down the toilet. Not on purpose anyway. Coach are you going to do something about this??– *shoulders raised like the hair on the back of a dog ready to fight*.
The coach is consumed in a sweat induced, red faced eyeball brawl with a referee who doesn’t care. The referees are clearly thinking about when the hell this game is going to finish so they can get home and watch Golf. works sux.
…and oops, all that shite about fouls and instant replays and jeering and pointing and pushing and violations and time-outs, that was 30 seconds ago—the crowd is up…balloons are waving, sneakers screech worse than Saved by the Bell’s pubescent jew, rebounds OH OH, they’re up and running and OOOOH he’s hanging off the basket, he’s dangling like a decal in a rear-view mirror. the crowd is a mosh pit. something great must have happened, some unheard of play–is he a paraplegic and these were his first steps? did The Beatles just walk in?
wait, is the court getting an Extreme Makeover????
no, no, i see. 2 points were scored. oh wow, now they are tied. how unbelievably miraculous.
oh hey, it’s half-time. lets talk all about ‘being aggressive’ with the men in 3 piece suits who only talk about basketball because they can’t play it, lets analyze what goes through the minds of the high top wearing men, lets re-watch how they run here, no there, now back here, wait–up here, now he fell down but He’s UP, so are his shoulders. he’s appalled! How could you call that?? He did nothing of the sort. This is preposterous.
words like “leverage”, “jump shot”, “gamble”, “dominate”, “rebounding”, “defense”, “worn down”
ok. done.
the itunes commercial with Coldplay is only going to play 2983 more times and I’ve only seen 3430 of them.
miss Rialeilana, the Polynesian Princess herself, gave me some love in her blog.
Thanks Ria! So now i have something to write about on this memorial day monday…besides moping about 3 days off having gone by as fast as a kid with the cookie jar. 3 days of work would never have flew by like this…Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday move by glacier style…but Saturday, Sunday and Monday? right. they are over. over like george bush….the french roll…saying ‘thats hot’….over.
anywho..the 5 things “meme”.
I’m new to blogging and I feel too self-conscious using the word “meme”. why? because i don’t honestly know what it means and it is one of those jargon words that i feel i haven’t earned yet. so, much like i don’t shoot my mouth off about ‘modding’ my xbox—you’ll never see that word in my blog again.
*collective sighs of relief*
5 Things in my bag:
a pen to cross off to-do list items
my free credit report (never use freecreditreport.com)
BC pills–I never remember to take them so I carry them everywhere
my camera–i never know when I’ll run into brad pitt
a check for $46.31 that I’m veritably unable to actually remember to cash
5 Fav things in my bedroom:
I could try to make this interesting by saying stiletto heels, lube, a ceiling mirror, a sex swing and me–but I sold the heels on Craigslist, the lube got thrown away when i moved because i didnt want my mom to find it whilst innocently helping me, ceiling mirrors are only in by-the-hour hotels and I forwent leasing that room for this lousy condo, I did just see the sex swing at the Hustler store in New Orleans but I couldn’t justify taking it on the plane with me.
so the bedroom? it’s not the most interesting place.
5 Things I’ve always wanted to do:
take a sex swing as carry-on luggage
eat a giant steaming pot brownie for breakfast
beat up a one of those Paris Hilton type girls at the mall and then watch a crowd of people clap about it
buy a steak dinner for a homeless person
write a book that has a quirky cult following
5 Things I’m currently into:
not liking Hillary Clinton
Goodreads
taking the bus (gas is $4.19 a gallon and climbing)
Heroes–unfuckingbelievable, but good like pot in a brownie–i’m guessing.
Frutezia, it’s $8 wine–tastes like alcohol induced Clearly Canadian. delicious.
That’s it for 5 Things. I think after being tagged I’m supposed to tag others but I’m not really one to participate. Was I tagged? I don’t know.
Sorry it’s almost Tuesday.
a day reserved for commemorating those who died doing service for their country makes me crave beer and potato salad. how crass. I guess bbq’s and $4 gas is our way of thanking dead soldiers for keeping us free. A friend of mine, when asked what she was doing for the long weekend, answered “going to the graveyard”. the graveyard? is that some new goth bar?
no *ahem*. apparently that is what you are supposed to do on memorial day, put flowers on graves in remembrance to those who died serving our nation. whoops. bbq’s should start taking place in cemeteries–then maybe the reason for this whole holiday would make a little more sense to people like me who just get it confused with Labor Day.
