When making out with a stranger, and said stranger says he does not want to take off his shirt, it is not alright to say, "It's okay, I like big guys."

Now, bring me tea and crumpets!

I had a great b-day weekend, followed by the worst week ever.

I was so happy to hang out with some old friends on Friday. They have toddlers, so I feel secure in calling them old friends. I am always worried when I see friends from a past life that things are going to feel awkward and unfamiliar; maybe even pushed in an effort to get these new lives to try to recognize each other. There may gave been a small glimmer of that feeling for me, but mostly years just shed away and I felt comfortable. It felt right. Thank you, Becky, Al, et al, for giving me a great kick start to the perfect weekend.

Next off to the Beer Cellar with my IBP family. I would love to give you all a complete run down of everything that happened, but I can't remember. I know I had a great time. I know that I ended up at a friend's house, my truck ended up at yet another friend's house. I was really hungover, but it was worth it. Tony, the oranges did help me to feel better, thank you.

I spent Sat night with James at the clubs. I was a little weary at first, literally, because of the hangover, but then everything shifted into overdrive and I had the time of my life. We went over to a friends house and ended up watching movies all night. I watch Magnolia while myself being pretty fucked up. It was great.

Sunday, I spent eating dinner and playing cards with Gevais and the Chase girls. You guys, I wouldn't know what to do without you. You are the best.

Tuesday, I caught strep throat. I have never felt this sick in my life. My fever got up to 103. I forced myself to get up Wednesday morning to go to the doctor, only I realized I had left my wallet at my Andrea's home, who lives outside the beltway. So I drove all the way out there, then all the way back, trying not to vomit. Finally saw the doctor and got my pills. Back home. Dennis is out of town all week in NYC, so at least he is in no danger of getting sick, but unfortunately for me, I am all alone. I hate it. I keep falling in and out of consciousness. Well, that part I actually like. Today, I am feeling a little better, I just wish the fever would go away. And, I wish something interesting would come on the TV. God, I am bored.

Life lesson #32: NEVER use super glue while naked.

So, tonight is the last night of me working the night desk at the Alley theatre. If I didn't have the worst cold known to man, I would be doing cartwheels around Bayou Place right now. All I really want to do is go home, get into bed, and watch reruns of The Golden Girls.

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Also, I have a birthday coming up and no idea how I want to celebrate. Any suggestions? If anyone wants to buy me a prostitute, it would be greatly appreciated.
That's just a joke. Kinda. Not really.

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Have you ever looked at your hands and thought, "these can't possibly belong to me"?

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I was thining today how funny it would be if gay marriage was legalized and we could go on Divorce Court. Can't you just imagine how funny that would be? "Your Honor, he would go out to the bathhouse everynight." "Well, he wasn't giving me what I needed at home, your Honor."

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Finally, I want you to know that I am seriously considering getting really drunk tonight, even though I have a cold and should go home to bed (and stop smoking). But, no. Not me. This is who I am, I don't do what is good for me. I'm like a spoiled child rebelling against parents that don't exist. Wish me luck.

Did I just use the phrase "mere microcosm?" That can't be right.

I am hungover. You would think from another wild night out of the town, but . . . oh no. I had to work at the Alley last night (of course) so I did not get out of here until 11:00 p.m. I had taped the Olympics because I wanted to watch the ladies figure skating competition. (I know, sometime I can be really really gay). Long story short, I was up until 2:30 a.m. at a friend’s house throwing back beers and watching figure skating.

I had a blast. I have to tell you, I went into the night hating the Russion, Slutskaya. But, then they played this retrospective on her life and career; turn out she has had more tragedy than Elizabeth Taylor. Her mother is dying from some kidney disease and she herself has some vascular disease that causes great fatigue; the doctors told her to stop skating but she powered on. Why does it always seem that the Russian skaters all have these horrific stories? Anyhow, I ended up hoping she would win over the annoying, arrogant Sasha Cohen. Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her. I am glad that the girl from Japan won; she deserved it.

On a side note, I am so manic about my blog. Somedays I think about quitting again and then otehr days I can't stop thinking about things I want to post. Of coruse, this could just be a reflection on my entire life and a mere microcosm of all things about me.

Wow, it has almost been a month since I have posted. What is up with that? I can report that I still do have a soul, despite several weeks working the front desk at the Alley theatre. I know I talk a lot of smack about how much I hate it, AND I DO, but I should also be grateful for having this opportunity to make some extra money and not have to do anything at all. I can say all of this now, because my latest tenure here will end on March 5th.

Commence dance of joy…….. now.

My friends and I have thrown some money into the pot and are betting each other who can lose the most weight over the next six months. There are four of us and at first we were playing every man for himself. That didn’t work out, so now we are in teams of two. Everything is going fine except for one thing: I cannot get out of bed in the mornings. I am really starting to believe that there is something seriously wrong with me; either physically or mentally. You know how some people can get up in the morning and maybe hit the snooze bar once. They then get out of the bed and yawn and stretch a little. They are up and ready for the day. This is not me. I hit the snooze bar about 15 times. When I finally get my eyes open, I say several curse words before throwing the covers back. I sit up and I feel like I have been hit by a truck; never have I felt rested and excited about the day ahead. I stumble around, finally getting to the shower. Then, it is rush rush rush because by this point I am late. I am always late for work. Always.

Nobody is allowed to talk to me until after 10:00a.m. My roommate, little Miss Mary Sunshine in the mornings, has not really ever learned this rule. Some days, I wait in my room waiting for him to leave just so I don’t have to talk to him, see him, or hear him talk. I want to kill people in the morning. He made the mistake and saying to me a few days ago, “Mornin’ Sunshine!” I almost hit him. Instead, I went into the kitchen and made some oatmeal using up all the remaining milk. Then, I watched him as he poured himself this heaping bowl of Special K cereal, sprinkled on some Splenda sweetener, and reached into the fridge for the milk. I silently ate my oatmeal. He turned and said, “You Bitch. You could have told me we were out of milk. I just giggled inside and walked off

Even the people at work have learned this rule. Nobody at work talks to me until I talk to them first. It’s funny I guess.

Bottomline, why am I this way? Do I have sleep apnea? Is my mattress not soft enough? Maybe it is all psychological. Maybe I am just a lazy fucking idiot. Whatever the reason, I want it to stop.

Maria Todd is a neat freak. She drives a gold BMW and gets to park in the Alley Theatre driveway when she attends a show. I guess she gives them a lot of airtime on 104 KRBE in the mornings. Anyway, she always comes to the desk, tell me has parked there, I go outside and put a pass on her windshield, and then stare into her car for about 15 minutes hoping to find something interesting.

Nothing.

I saw on the news today that, historically, this week is this most depressing week of the year. Someone actually did research on this. They figure if you add up the post holiday blues, the depths of winter, new year resolutions being broken, the holiday bills starting to roll in, debt rising, etc., then you get the most depressing week of the year.

Huh, and I thought it was just me.

I just wanted everyone to know that I think that the process of completely losing my mind has begun. The next time you hear from me, they may only let me write letters with really really dull pencils.

In life there are certain things you learn over time.

Never cut your hair when your drunk.

Never take a straight girl to a gay bar, they will get hit on more than you.

No, you can't defer your student loans until you die.

A #1 with cheese, whatasized, with a Dr. Pepper will not make your problems go away.

Making fun of people is fun; Karma is for pussies.

Never go food shopping when you're hungry, only go when you are full and on a tight budget.

Money IS everything.

If you are nice to a person just once, they seem to expect it every single time. Ug.

No matter how many channels they offer you, there is never anything to watch.

It's never a good idea to tell your bossjust exactly how hungover you are.

and

I will only accomplish about 20% of everything I ever want to do in life before I die.

In life there are certain things you learn over time.

Never cut your hair when your drunk.

Never take a straight girl to a gay bar, they will get hit on more than you.

No, you can't defer your student loans until you die.

A #1 with cheese, whatasized, with a Dr. Pepper will not make your problems go away.

Making fun of people is fun; Karma is for pussies.

Never go food shopping when you're hungry, only go when you are full and on a tight budget.

Money IS everything.

If you are nice to a person just once, they seem to expect it every single time. Ug.

No matter how many channels they offer you, there is never anything to watch.

It's never a good idea to tell your bossjust exactly how hungover you are.

and

I will only accomplish about 20% of everything I ever want to do in life before I die.

Sorrow and Thanks

Why does it seem that everyone I know has had their father pass away recently? It really is uncanny. My heart goes out to you all, Becky, Dennis, Rich and Dwight, Windy, A.J., et al. The whole experience has just seemed to top off what has been a rather somber holiday season for me.

I do want to thank two people in particular, Andrea and Karen, for making x-mas the best it can be. You two are awesome and I don’t know what I would do without you around.

It feels like a good time for letting go. I am not sure of what. I know I just want to “let go.”

Merry Christmas and Fuck You, Too

I feel so sick today. I am not sure what is wrong with me; it could be authentic illness from the cold weather or it could be my body recovering from the weekend. Either way, I am just not myself. Also, I have cried three times for no reason. I fear that this is the way I will feel the rest of my life. I’m also angry and jealous of people who have great families. Fuck you. Really.

I’m taking Amos to the vet tomorrow for some long over due shots and some basic TLC. Can the vet confiscate your pet if he thinks you haven’t been taking good care of it? Just curious. I bought his a flashy new collar today and he has an appointment at the beauty parlor this Friday. Furthermore, I am finally getting him some dental work in the hopes that will clear up some, if not all, of the HORRIBLE dog breath. Of course with my luck, I will spend all this money on him and he will kill over dead or get hit by a car next week.

X-mas is Sunday. I am ignoring it. This is no small feat considering where I am working every night this week, the annals of A Christmas Carol at the Alley Theatre (I tried spelling annals as anals but it, but spell check wouldn’t let me even though I knew I wanted it to be anals). I fucking dare someone to come up to the desk tonight and ask me a question. Bring it, BITCHES!

Eat my blog.

So I am at the Alley, again. Tonight there was no choir. Tonight we had a middle school all string orchestra. Now, I hate to make fun of children (that’s not exactly true, I kind of love it), BUT, the whole thing sounded like one long cat fight. Or maybe not a fight, maybe it was that sound cats make when they are getting busy, you know what I’m talking about. Basically, when cats have sex they sound like “Away in a Manger” as performed by the tone deaf middle school student I just suffered through.

Tomorrow, I make my return to Blanco. Those of you who have been keeping up with my blog for the past year may remember the events around last New Year’s Eve. I can’t wait, it should be lots of fun and I will try to keep you all posted on the merriment.

Seriously, I am really ready for this year to be over with. This one has been tough for me. The holiday season is always tough for me. I seem to turn into this other person in December. I start have manic episodes and most things usually end horribly for me in December. I feel very detached from everyone. I feel very alone.

Enough of that. January can’t come soon enough.

God Bless Us, One and All!!

Tis the season, at the Alley Theatre, where they roll out Christmas Carol to the delight of many uneducated, rude, suburban, boring, easily-amused theatre-goers. For the rest of us, it is hell.

I had forgotten how many people I hate see Christmas Carol. I don’t know them personally but they know who they are.

First, there are the choirs that come from surrounding schools to fancy us with their incredible singing abilities and spread Christmas joy like a jackhammer to my skull. Actually, in all fairness, the fist time is nice. The second night is mildly pleasant. From there, my experiences with the death choirs slide off in scale until eventually, on December 26, the final choir comes in some vain attempt to sing carols the day after X-mas and you watch weary eyed people, people who have by this time had enough of the holidays as I have, stare at them with the same kind of Marilyn Manson hate that I have had, well, by tonight.

Next, come the families. You know who I am talking about: hordes of snot-rubbing children, grannys is wheelchairs, overly dressed mom in their green and red sweaters. The kind of people that X-mas has vomited on and someone forgot to clean up the mess. Every once in a while, I catch the eye of some college age person home for the holidays and obviously dragged here by said family. We look at each other for that moment; each with the same amount of pity. As by ESP, I can hear a faint, “Please kill me.”

I can’t forget about the company x-mas parties. What crazy fuck comes up with the idea to have their company x-mas party at the Alley and see Christmas Carol? I don’t want to discourage the Alley from any revenue, but ECK! People who come here for these parties seem to think that they own the place; they own the night. Woo Hoo, PARTY!! Really? You’re at the Alley, drunkboy. How great can your life be?

I must really have my Scrooge hat on tonight! Damn! I just referenced the damn show. Bah Humbug!

Much of my life, too much, was lived to please others. I forced myself into molds fashioned for me by society. I lost touch with what and who I really was. I lived a life of self-destruction, sometimes resulting in the destruction of other lives I touched. I paid a great price for having this illness. A person with a college education certainly should have some kind of confidence and credibility, but I earned nothing to talk about, and was part of the poor and disrespected. It was a difficult and painful place to be, one that was certainly not my intention, or because of any carelessness on my part; just a lot of unpleasant circumstances; a very humbling experience. But because of this, I discovered something very exciting about life. I realize that the object of living is not to live forever. We all eventually die. And also, that we can’t take it with us. We don’t take our money, clothes, labels, and prestige with us. But I’ve discovered something we do take with us. I believe that when we get beyond this life, we will be clothed in who we are in our hearts and our minds. I plan to be fully dressed; not nude, stripped, and foolish like those who focus on material things. The most important things in life are not things.

-Marcia Kyle Townsend (7/27/54-12/01/94)

Dear Dennis

A few people wanted to be sure to say Happy Birthday to you today:


HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

What the....?!!!!

So I had this dream last night that I was trying to get this blonde woman to go out on a date with me. (I know, right!). Her hobbies included eating sticks of butter, making grass skirts, and watching animlals fuck. I am pretty sure it was Katie Couric.

Hmmm...

HAPPY THANKSGIVING