one eighty

I wasn't gonna write this week because I had kind of a crummy week and didn't really feel like I had anything to share. Nothing dramatic. I just either got a touch of some flu or some rogue gluten made its way into my food stuffs. I wasn't super sick either, not laid up in bed or camped out on the bathroom floor. No, I was just sick enough to feel constantly uncomfortable which made me feel increasingly cranky as the week went on. And add to that, I had an inordinate shit ton of stuff to do and because of the discomfort and the crankiness, I felt like I wasn't accomplishing any of it anywhere near my normal level and the shit kept piling on. Yeah, so crummy.

Someone I know who will remain nameless said to me, "What's wrong? You're not normally this bitchy." To which I really wanted to say, Go fuck yourself. I'm entitled to be cranky for once, but instead said, "Sorry, just feeling crummy." 

But then I started feeling better by Friday night, which I spent with my best friend. Have I mentioned in the last five minutes how awesome she is? We went out to dinner and to this art opening for a girl I know and to which I was having total anxiety about going. But it was a lot of fun and I didn't run into the dreaded ex like I thought I might, so I'm really glad I went. I would really like to write at least one post that doesn't include him in some way, but I'll just say that part of my recovery has been completely avoiding him for a while and I'm glad my plan is still intact.

Though as a backup plan, I thought that if I did run into him and if he did say hi or anything, I'd just cock my head quizzically and after a few beats, say, "Mmmmm no."

Great plan right?

Hey, at least I still make me laugh.

There to the fore, Friday was a great start to an almost perfect weekend. I say almost because what is perfect anyway? But it was great anyhow. I slept for like 12 hours that night and laid in bed almost all day Saturday, just watching TV on my Mac and not thinking at all. Then I went over to some friends' house and watched the Saints game (way to geaux, Saints! who dat!). Afterwhich we migrated and I had just such an enjoyable evening of hanging with great people, tasting cider, and laughing.

And Sunday has been divine as well. It was lazy and easy and I got to do some shopping. Bee tee dubs? Love leaving the mall with 200 smackers worth of merch and not having spent a penny. Gift cards are an incredible invention. I had planned, however, on taking myself to the movies, but decided to come home and cuddle with my cat and write instead.

I will get to the movies this week though. This is something I'm going to do now, like a weekly date night with myself (did I already tell you about this?), some nice quality time with me. And, what can I say? I make a great date. Last weekend, I saw Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and it was fan bloody tastic. I've yet to decide what to see next, though I have a few on the list. Any suggestions are muy welcome.

I'm also looking foward to dinner this week with some lovely ladies who rock my world (hi, girlies!) as well as dinner with a long lost "aunt" (she's not really an aunt, more of one of my mom's best friend) who I haven't seen since I was a teen.

That's a cool story actually. So this aunt lived in Seattle the last time I saw her so I tried to look her up when I was going up for Christmas. But alas she's unlisted and I didn't find her. But last week, I got a letter in the mail from her wondering if I was the same Andrea she knew and telling me if so to text her.  I texted her and she's going to be in Portland some time this next week and we're gonna try to meet up. Can you believe it? What are the chances?

Life, she is a strange one.

Indubitably Foul

For some in inexplicable reason, I awoke in an incredibly foul mood to day. It's completely irrational, though indubitable.

I shouldn't be in a foul mood. My computer was fixed (for the second fucking time) yesterday (Huzzah!). And my roommate painted a cute design on my toenails. And I have Shakespeare in the park and my birthday party to look forward to this weekend.  And the weather has been delightfully cooler and misty. I love that. And I should be getting a paycheck within the next millennium for this freelance work I'm doing.

But, indubitably, I am feeling foul as a bird (har de har har ba-dum-chh).

True story. I went to bed wearing my coziest happy pants and awoke in cranky pants. huh. Maybe I'm a sleepwalker.

Perhaps part of the reason for my foul mood was the most deliciously delicious dream I had this morning, which would normally put me on a fantastical mood. But when I woke up with my cat perched on my shoulder purring in my ear and I realized my dream wasn't and never will be reality and my actual reality was a fucking cat on my shoulder, I wasn't the happiest of campers. Despite that camp award I won in 1992.

Also, my hips are fucking sick of sleeping on the ground. My back isn't too happy about it either.

You know what else thats sucks about sleeping on the floor? Whenever anyone walks within a 400 mile radius of my room, the floor shakes. And that means I shake. And when I say anyone? I mean my cats. I need to stop feeding those assholes so much.

Also also? Personal dramas suck monkey ass. I rejected you, Drama. I told you to back the fuck off. I told you I never wanted to see you again. My new friends were Fun and Bliss and More Fun and we decided that you can't play with us anymore. Because you so bring everyone down. But noooooo. Here you are, muscling your way into everything. Trying to be the center of attention. Yet again. Well no more, attention whore.

And to the asshole with your bumpin' ass subwoofers in the back of your janky ass car parked right under my window for the last HOUR, you can go run into a knife. I hate you. Go play in traffic. But before you find a tall building and jump off? Turn off your fucking car. That bass just sounds like the soundtrack to your murder right abouts now.

You know what else? I'M A TRAIN! I'M A TRAIN! I'M A TRAAAAAIIIIINNNN!!!

Right. Now that's not getting old.

I think maybe I need a good massage. Or maybe a new massager. Rosie, dear, I love you and all, but a girl needs variety.

Indubitably.

This post participates in:

one order of cranky, hold the mayo

Ohmigod I'm exhausted! After last weekend and working all week and a day of schmoozing and clapping, I could nap for a year. But I won't be. I leave tomorrow for San Francisco. It's a quick trip for work and I come home late Sunday. I haven't even started packing yet. Blerg.

But I adore San Francisco. It's so lovely there. I'm sure the fog (even though it's supposed to be sunny, if chilly) will melt away any lingering stress. I need to it. I haven't slept well all week and my head is throbbing.

I had a little relapse last night. Took a bath. Played some Andrew Belle. And then promptly bawled my eyes out. And I had been doing so well.

Not that I want to complain, mind you (I do, I really, really do), but I can't help myself. I'm so tired that I can't hold the cranky in anymore. I feel lonely and beat down and I want someone to hold my face and tell me I'm perfect just the way I am.

Or maybe I just need a fabulous man who wears glitter and pleather to tell me I look fierce and take me dancing. Maybe San Fran will make it better after all. Or shopping. I could spend my savings in Union Square. I'd be broke, but I'd look fantastic.

On the upside, I'm making tilapia with a green olive tapenade for dinner and it is smelling fantastical. Now I really wish I had some alkeehol in my house so I could get the motivation to pack.

If someone would send a half-naked gorgeous single man who reads Proust and Faulkner to my hotel room in SF, I'd be your bee eff eff 4 evah! I'm not kidding. Yes, yes I am. No wait, no I'm not. Nope. Not kidding, Maybe I'm kidding. Maybe just a little. Nope, please send him. I'd like him on my bed when I arrive. That is all.


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synching up my cranky pants

Seriously fighting off a bad case of Annoya right now, Internet. Yes, Annoya is a very real affliction. It's when annoyance and nausea get together and have very irritable babies. Not that I'm irritable right now, per se.

I did actually have a very good day today. Got a lot done. The office is quiet and that means I get more done (some days I swear if I disconnected my office line, I would double my productivity. I swears.).

I had a fabuloso therapy session.

I added Mad Men season 3 to my Netflix queue (mmmm, Don Draper) and it should come soon.

And I decided to return that bathing suit that is ohsocute, but just doesn't quite fit. It's a one piece. An attractive one piece. That neither makes me look like Dora the Explorer nor Dame Edna (pee to the ess, click those links. dooo iiiit.). So this was a find. A FIND! And I've been holding onto it for a month. But the thing is, it's just a little too small. A smidge. In the midsection. Not too tight. But I have a somewhat long torso. And so like one more inch of fabric lengthwise would make it fit. But it doesn't. And the next size up is roughly the size of Texas. So I'm returning it.

I'm okay with that. I think. I can wear my bikinis for one more summer.

*sigh*

I just wanted to be all Audrey Hepburn. With my classic black suit and huge sunglasses and my hair in a chignon. So chic. Oh wells.

Anyway, that's not why I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at something right now. Something I  shouldn't talk about, especially in my bee ell oh gee (Don't know why I spelled it out. I'm not annoyed by a two year old child.), even though I doubt that thing actually deems my blog worthy to read. But nonetheless I'm irritated by said thing. And my bullshit meter is going off the charts. And I just want to pull up my cranky pants, synch them tight, and settle into a spectacular pout.

So I bought ramen (which I can't even eat the mix for because of food allergies, so I just heat up the noodles in water and make my own flavorings with hot sauce and sesame oil) and Cherry Garcia and Cheez-its. Yes, I anesthetized with junk food. Works every time.

Hey! Shut up. I ate vegetables for lunch! I can afford a night of eating my feelings a little thankyouverymuch.

And now, since I have officially crossed over from Cranky Town to Crazy City, I'll call it a night. And leave you with one little morsel of wisdom from the lips of this girl: it is a truth universally acknowledged that people are dumb.

Word.