2.06.2005
Now Playing...
So this week has been a frenzy of activity - stress - nuttiness - a little bit o'booze. Had that second job interview on Friday. I feel like it went really well but I won't know until tomorrow (Monday) if the guy I talked to thought it went well and is going to put me through to the vice president. I am pratically crumbling psychically from the anticipation. And it has driven me to do weird things...like, I'm getting forgetful. Apparently one of the most insidious and instantaneous side-effects of stress is loss of short-term memory, and I am living proof that it's more than theory, it's fact. I went to buy Parliament Lights yesterday - with Just Joe and the Puppy waiting in my car - and the Pup asked for a Yoo-Hoo. I came back with a Yoo-Hoo, two boxes of candy hearts, a bottle of 7-Up...and no Parliament Lights.
Sigh.
Oh, and I had sex with the EH last night - sheerly out of necessity. I am developing (or was developing) a real phobia about nookie and getting naked (and the other stuff that reasonably follows) and finally it just came down to primal need. But YUCK, do I feel icky about it. It was empty, strange, strained... Technically it was delightful, but every time I opened my eyes, there was the EH. Ack! Next time, I'd be better off with a complete stranger, instead of someone I've been running from for the past 14 months. OMG!
Other than that my days and nights have been filled with more of the same - sofa-hopping, mild drinking, major cigarette-smoking. Dude. I need a life.
2.03.2005
One More Time
Now playing...
In just a few minutes I'll be heading out again to the fabulous and stanky Mason Jar, this time to see Eisley. Has anybody heard of them? Apparently they're managed by Coldplay's manager...and he only manages two bands. Hm. The Puppy swears they're awesome and once again I'm off to be smothered in cigarette smoke and see a band. He was right about Avail...so there's that.
And the job in Portland called me yesterday! I have another phone interview tomorrow with some back-end guy (my, that sounds naughty) - he does the IT stuff for web content and wants to talk tech. (Did I just say "talk tech" - help me.) Anyhoo, if that goes well then it's another phone interview Tuesday - with the VP of the company, and if that goes well then they'll fly me up to the Motherland.
An-y-hoo, I have to take it easy tonight because A) I have that interview and B) I just got my car back from the body shop. Yep, 16 years of drinking and at 33 I banged it up. Humiliating, pathetic, expensive lesson to learn. Only a flesh wound.
While I'm at it, has anyone seen that train wreck of a show called "Love is in the Heir"? And does anybody else LOVE IT THE WAY I DO. I'm convinced it's all a set-up even though apparently she's some relative of the Shah of Iran. But I knew these crazy kids in high school who said their family was royalty over there, too, and had to come to the States. ... come to think of it, they were probably telling the truth, too. I mean, these people are butt nuts and have no grasp on reality. The kids I used to know had this crazy mother who was obsessed with Bono. She kept photos of him everywhere - in her bathroom, in her wallet, on the dashboard in her car. When you flipped down the visor there was a picture there, too, of Bono.
BONO, PEOPLE. Bono. That's all I have to say about that. Just....Bono.
And finally, I heard that one of Bush's initiatives going forward is something about giving pharmacists the right to refuse to fill prescriptions for the morning-after pill on Moral Grounds. Isn't a pharmacist's job to make sure the right pills go in the right bottle? I don't think it's to decide who is making decisions that the pharmacist considers morally wrong and then refusing to serve them. For one thing, it's not like girls are lining up for RU-86. We're not sitting around, doing our nails, talking on the phone to our girlfriends like "oh my gawd, I was totally going to go church yesterday with Suzy but then like, Stacy called and she was like 'Come to this bar - I totally don't know any of these guys and I totally think we should get high on drugs, then denounce Jesus, and then totally have sex with them! It'll be great - we totally won't know who the fathers are and then we'll totally go to the pharmacy to get the morning-after pill!'" No, no no no, that is not going to happen. And for another thing, what happens if refusing to serve people on moral grounds sets a precedent and extends to all professions? What if your bus driver refuses to let you on the bus because he saw you smoking a cigarette and he's morally opposed to second-hand smoke? What if your waitress refuses to bring you your steak because she's a vegefuckingtarian? What if your dentist decides that your shoes offend him?
Huh? Huh?
Farg. I'm all worked up, now, see? I need to leave anyway. FARG.
2.02.2005
The Real Reason Bush Should Keep Tabs on How We Breed
but first: Now playing... Dios, "Dios."
And now, here's why people should be licensed to rear children: my friend X received this email from some dude she dated like once or twice. He totally knows who she is, but played the "duh" card and sent this ridiculous gem:
So, I'm going through some old emails and came across this name. I'm having trouble placing exactly who this is but since I have some friends coming into town for the Phoenix Open that I have to entertain, I figure that I'd give this a shot since you are most likely a hot girl. If you are a hot girl or even just a fun girl, please write back. I would like to inquire into your plans for this weekend and if you would like to visit a gentleman's dance club.
That is all,
Kevin
What do you think Kev's chances are with my friend - or with any girl with an ounce of self-esteem, for that matter? IF YOU ARE A HOT GIRL OR EVEN JUST A FUN GIRL, WRITE BACK. Wha?!? Is he in the fourth grade or something? I haven't seen anything that pathetic since some guy my freshman year in college told me he could see himself in my pants. And then, as the grabber, he asks her very politely if she would like to accompany him and his posse to a STRIP CLUB. Why, of course! Gosh, Kevin, you didn't even need to ask, you know a little old girl like me would be pleased as punch to watch strippers rub their breasts on your face, especially since it's so flattering that you don't remember me, your friends will naturally assume that we've slept together, and I'll probably have to buy your drinks!
Oh, Kevin, please, just cut it off. Cut off your man-member, as it is obviously the larger head on your body and nothing but pure, retarded evil. Stop it now, Kev - stop the madness before you hurt somebody.
