As one of the founding members of the Perpetually Broke club, this is just a heads up that I probably won’t be around too much in the near future. My internet access will probably be cut in the next few days as I haven’t had the money to pay them for like two months now. I’m hoping to have it all resolved quickly, as currently twitter/tumblr/somethingawful are my few means of consistant entertainment as I don’t even have a working tv connection.
Anyhow, I’ll check in when I can at work, tweet from my phone and if anyone needs me they’re welcome to text as at least I have that if nothing else.
The clock is mocking me. I thought we had become pretty good friends but today he ticks forward quickly then stops suddenly and slows to a crawl. If work undulates like this I think I’ll be seasick. I’m already sort of half way there.
I’m trying to muster the energy for the worlds quickest shower. A pick me up, at least the hope of one. Cold water hurts so bad it feels good. It could just be the anemia that makes it so or my inner masochist. Probably the latter.
I’m counting down the days til my birthday, though I can’t tell you why. Rarely does anything fun happen on my birthday. Less so these days when food has become a luxury. I’m wrapped up in idiot fantasies I suppose. One day, something amazing will happen to make up for all the terrible.
I collapsed this morning. Nobody else seems concerned so I’m pretending not to be. The bruises on my shoulder and hip say otherwise. I was only out for maybe a couple seconds, enough though. I’ve never fainted before in my life.
I’ve been out of it most the day but dragged around a good part of the morning not completely against my will but enough. I’m lying down. I shouldn’t be. I should be chasing the little one but I’m afraid to. What if I faint with him while we’re alone?
That I’ve been the fucking queen of depression. There are a lot of things I want to be stoked about but I just haven’t the damned energy. I think I’m well overdue for a real vacation, not just away from home but gone, gone.
I’ve got cabin fever and it’s catching up with me.
Okay, so I dreamt I was walking with my friend from 4th grade when I had to cut through a backyard to avoid a rabid dog. As I did, I was approached by two talking rabbits, who then stole my wallet and were playing "keep-away" with it. I then chased them as my friend told me he had Scooby-Doo's home telephone number and could get them on the trail of my wallet. What do you think that means?
Another stolen wallet? Jeez, you must be rich! It seems like something a normal 4th grader would dream so it seems to me that you secretly hate your mother (identified by the wallet thievery and we all know wallets symbolize the vagina) and was in love with your friend as that’s the first person you run to instead of the police.
If you could do one thing, any one thing in the world with absolutely no repercussions or consequences, what would it be? Bonus: Why?
Travel around with nothing but a change of clothes. I’ve always wanted to get out of California, or at least Southern Cali. I was born and raised not 3 miles away from where I live now. I’ve grown to loathe it so. I would love nothing more just to get away. Even if just for a few days. Though I’m fairly sure if I ever escape, I won’t come back.
I’ll never forget the first time I met Shane. She was (is?) married to Bobby Hewitt of former Orgy (band) fame. Also, a porn star and namesake of an entire porn series. I knew who she was married to before I knew anything about her. The first time she came in I was terrified simply because of who she was married to. Silly in retrospect, but I was a kid at the time and very prone to letting my mouth run when I shouldn’t.
Anyhow, she comes in and starts talking to my co-worker who I am totally feeding questions to. I’m hiding in the back just in case he should happen in. I hadn’t done any proper makeup and I sure as hell didn’t want a rock star seeing me that way.
I made Jose ask her about Orgy, again, in retrospect stupid as fuck. She told him they had broken up because of Jay Gordons massive drug habit.
I was taken aback. This was a band I had enjoyed for a couple years, had two awesome albums and all this sudden not only are they broken up but at least one of ‘em is a fucking crackhead!? Outrage!
I refused to listen to them for awhile. I was pissed at Jay more than anything. I’m sure their original break up was about more than that, but it made me angry anyway. How can you throw away music like that for something so… nothing?!
In the weeks and months that passed, I met Bobby myself. Started making small talk, had a postcard signed that I still have framed in a drawer somewhere. He found out I was in a band and wished me well and such. Like all good rockstars are supposed to.
He was easily my favourite customer for ease of transactions, politeness and lastly because of who he was.
He told me when they got back together. I bought their new CD that night and was disappointed beyond measure. The whole sound had changed and Jay had made the entire album about himself.
I’d love to run into Bobby again, but I think if I ever ran into Jay I’d be far too tempted to kick in his pretty boy face.