Protected: Putting the needle down

Adventures in Dipshittery – VFW Invasion Edition

After a certain point in a night out I have to switch from drinking pint glasses of straight tequila on ice (known at this bar as a margarita, but not recognized as such anywhere else in the world.) and start drinking water so that I am in some kind of shape to drive home.  This is a good thing for me and the other people on the road, but when I am drunk and talking a lot and it’s smoky my throat gets dry and I tend to guzzle water like it’s going out of style. Consequently, by midnight or so my bladder is usually pleading for mercy, and I start making trips to the bathroom every ten minutes.

This weekend I was sitting at a table with guaca_molly, and had to excuse myself for a minute. I hate doing that, because I really hate it when people leave me sitting alone. Being left to sit alone at the bar is the suck, because at best you just look kinda friendless, and at worst you look like you need/want someone to hit on you, and some hapless drunken fuckwit usually obliges. Either way, ick. And this table we were at is in the drunken fuckwit hot zone. Seriously every time I sit there I am approached by a freak. But guaca_molly is pretty hardass, and I had to pee really badly, so I ran off for a minute to take care of business.

When I got back she looked a little shell-shocked, and said that I had to sit down and listen to her story, but not act like she was telling a story in case the person she was telling the story about was looking. I sat down, but before she could really tell me what was up this little motherfucker comes up to our table, all sporting a grossed-out goatee and looking like some kind of white trash explosion of unwashed hair and deep-fryer grease. Now, like I said I was pretty drunk, so here’s what I remember happening, although it may be conflated with the story guaca_molly told me later: Continue reading »

Sunday Evening Ramblings

Have the day off tomorrow, which makes me happy. Stayed home tonight and did nothing, all on my own. The first time I’ve done that in a while, and the first time in a longer while that doing that has left me content.

I used to never need anything from anyone, and then suddenly I felt like I needed everything from everyone, all the time. Today I had some stuff from some people, and then didn’t need anymore from anyone, so was content with my own company. A balance between this need/no-need business would be a lovely place to live, long-term.

Now I’m just ruminating on the way that things can seem so big and dramatic and intense in your head, and then you find your people and you talk with them about it, and you laugh with them about it, and suddenly those things really aren’t as dramastical as all that, after all.

Being able to laugh about a thing gives me power over it, gives me context, helps me understand it. I poke fun at all my life’s ridiculous aspects, of which there are untold legions. I laugh at things all day long, to help me stay sane. It’s just that I somehow keep forgetting that it’s the things that I let become secret, the things I refuse to share, that I can’t find funny. Then those things take on an exaggerated importance in my life, by the very fact that I won’t admit they’re there. I don’t know which comes first, taking them too seriously or keeping them secret, but I know they’re intertwined and that they feed each other, to my mental detriment.

So here’s to friends who share my sense of humor, who won’t let me take myself too seriously, and will just straight out laugh at my shit when it’s funny. And here’s to laughing along, and letting go of things you rather stupidly hid in the first place.

Friday Shenanigans – Bring Your Own Glass

Considering how rip-roaringly, staggeringly, gigglingly, sneezingly drunk I got last Friday, I suppose it’s not a surprise that I don’t recall with absolute clarity the exact events of the later part of the evening. However, I just remembered the most interesting part of the early evening, when Matt had to throw someone out of the bar.

It’s not exactly a rare occurrence that Matt has to eject someone from the illustrious environs of everyone’s favorite dive bar, but it’s almost always amusing when it happens. Matt has such a way about him when dealing with obnoxious drunks; it’s quite lovely to watch. It’s part of what I love most about Matt: his almost unshakeable calm and presence of mind while he’s working, even when he’s as staggeringly drunk as the rest of us. It’s impressive.

As I’ve said before, I am irresistibly drawn to people who are calm. If you’re totally unflappable, I totally want to sit next to you. That’s mostly because I myself am excessively flappable, and want to bask in the presence of people who don’t seem to be freaking out all the time. It’s why myself and MyTodd™ are symbiotes, and why I have such preternatural fondness for Dave who won’t Twitter. Those are some chilled out guys. It’s usually hard to get them to express an actual real-life emotion, much less evince any form of upset. I need that around me. People who are nervous and excitable and freaking out all the time (I am looking at you, RD) make me jittery, and I don’t like to feel jittery. (Re-reading this I think it’s possible my ultimate companion might be some kind of emotionless cyborg.)

So, Matt is like MyTodd and DWWT, but on an Enterprise Level! He’s professionally chilled out and calm, and good at making people feel welcome and happy and not-jittery. It’s a trait you’d love to have in a really good therapist, and more than you can rightfully expect from your friendly neighborhood barkeep. Nevertheless, he’s got it.

So Friday night, quite early, some old drunk staggers in. He looks vaguely familiar (and no, not because he’s one of my close friends, who are also mostly old drunks now that I think about it.) and I think I’d seen him in there being old and drunk and smelly some other times. But he bellies up to the bar, and everyone is prepared to let him be old and drunk and smelly as long as he does that in a nice, quiet way. But no. Nothing will do but that he insert himself into our conversation, after first talking to Matt for a while (sample conversation):

OD: “Did I tell you I am moving to Texas?”
Matt: “Yeah, you said that before. When are you going to go ahead and do it?”

We were hardly discussing anything earth shattering, I was still goggling over KK bringing her own wine bottle and glass with her. Because that is about as classy as it gets, really. And we were also discombobulated by the fact that BeanieStu had stolen our registered corner of the bar (because he thought that if he sat in our seats he would have a chance to get all bromantical with Matt – but of course that’s not how it works.) So we weren’t really paying attention to the old drunk. But the guy kept trying to converse with us, no matter how steadily we ignored him. I think MyTodd™ might have also been whispering to us about his favorite story with that particular old drunk guy, which entails him doing  an ass-plant on the concrete outside the bar one night, then trying to play it off when people proffered help,  whipping out a cigarette and acting as if he was just purposely having a quick lie-down on the pavement. As you do.

Anyway, he finally got so obnoxious that Matt addressed it with him, and the guy said “Hey, it’s a free country, if you don’t like what I am saying, why don’t you just throw me out then?” to which Matt replied “OK, how about I just throw you out then?” which baffled the guy for a minute. This was long enough for Matt to grab up his cigarettes and beer as the guy spluttered something. See, Matt has the loveliest, non-confrontational way of ejecting an objectionable patron. He doesn’t touch them, he just takes their drink outside and sets it on the picnic table. Then they have to follow it. It’s really effective and low-contact. One time he took a guy’s drink AND his change and led him out of the bar crooning “Follow the money, follow the money.” to the poor befuddled dipshit who’d just been fondling Jessica.

See, this is why we love Matt.

So Matt courteously poured the guy’s remaining beer in a plastic glass and started walking it and the guy’s pack of cigarettes out. Of course the guy didn’t think much of his own suggestion anymore, and now felt like he’d rather not be kicked out of the bar.

OD: “If you take my beer outside, there’s gonna be a fight!”
Matt (deadpan): “OK, bring it on then.”

Of course I am excitable and start looking around to see who can back Matt up if he has to fight the Old Drunk. And none of the bar’s patrons at that time looked as if they were particularly up to the task, except for BeanieStu who looked disinclined to offer assistance, and RD, who was nowhere to be seen. Of course my worrying about it was for naught, since Matt could certainly take Old Drunk unassisted, but still I like to worry. As I was fretting the guy sheepishly staggered out the door and into the frigid South Grand evening, collecting his sad plastic cup of beer along the way.

And for the absolute capper (at least for those who know the history) here comes RD a moment later, saying “Hey, what happened? Did I miss someone getting thrown out? I was in the bathroom!”

Of course you were, RD. Of course you were.

There’s really no moral or punchline to this story, it was just fun for me to see Matt doing some Basic Drunk Wrangling™. Luckily he didn’t also decide to wrangle my drunk ass later that evening, although the entertainment factor of my letting another girl there twice stick her face in my cleavage and then (apparently) play my breasts like bongos probably worked in my favor. I was three miles into hot mess territory last week.

Tonight – moderation is the key!

Seriously!

Hope That’s Working Out for You

Last night MyTodd™ called me at 3:30 or so to see what I was doing for dinner. “Looking for it” was the only correct answer, since I had not eaten lunch and was just that moment pondering whether to have a very very late lunch, or just give the whole thing up for a bad business and eat a very early dinner when I got home. He suggested that he come pick me up at 5:00 p.m. and we go tool around town and find some food to eat, and I found myself inclined to acquiesce to that proposal. We ended up at Tucker’s in Soulard, and though I had promised that I was hungry enough to eat anywhere, I was disappointed that the menu seemed to be “Meat”, “Meat with a Side of Meat” ,”Red Meat with a Meaty Sauce” and “Meat Medley.” I settled on a burger, and he got a steak. OMG, someone should remind me that a Quarter Pounder is actually only 4oz, because this burger was 9oz. That was a lot of meat. It was tasty, but I don’t eat red meat that often, so it was a heavy meal.

Anyway, we had a nice time, catching up on our respective weekend activities. We sat right in front of the window, one floor up overlooking the sidewalk below which was really nice and vaguely European in feel. That part of the city has lots of random men in black leather coats walking around, and according to MyTodd™ most of them were Armenian mob bosses and their bodyguards. So we ate meat, people-watched and gossiped. It was quiet in the restaurant, because it was still pretty early. The bar was a little busier, I suppose with happy-hour style people. When we were almost done with our dinner we were interrupted by a loud voice coming from the other side of the room. “SORRY!” the voice proclaimed. Turning our heads we were startled by the appearance of a disheveled late-30-something woman with spiky hair and smeared eye makeup. “I’m sorry! My friend just died. A good friend.” she slurred, lurching toward the stairs down to the bar. The woman was wearing some kind of age-inappropriate miniskirt and heels, neither of which looked like they were going to serve her well for an evening of drunken lurching.

“I’m sorry, sorry to ruin your dinner.” Continue reading »

Today I am grateful for

My head has been all over the place lately, and today it seems to have settled back somewhere near my shoulders. Despite the way it must sometimes appear, I actually prefer feeling somewhat sane and unlike I am about to have a freakout any minute.

My head is resting firmly back on/near my shoulders. I can't say the same for this poor unfortunate Nordstrom model from another planet. (via Photoshop Disasters)

So that means today I am grateful for:

• Good friends who will listen to you rehash the same event three times in one day, and still pick up the phone when you call the fourth time.
• People who don’t always agree with my negative observations of myself and others, and tell me so.
• Being told twice by two different people that sometimes women have the right to play the douche card for no reason, and that it’s not the end of the world when I get jackassy.
• People who are laid-back, roll with the punches and can take things without falling down/apart. I have  a lot to learn by observing, since I don’t feel like I can absorb things with the equanimity I desire.
• Drugs that let me sleep through the night
• That February, that bitch ass month, can suck it and die in LESS THAN A WEEK. Fuck your cocksucking ways, you horrible, horrible death-month of disaster.
• Hot water
• Warm blankets
• Dog kennels

That’s all!

Protected: How My Night Behaves

Rise of the South Grand Lycans

I was going to type up a whole description of my Surprise Sober Saturday Shenanigans this weekend, but once I started I realized it was too boring for anyone but me to care, and I already knew what happened.

I will say this, we discovered that on Saturdays South Grand is populated by 67% Lycans. The amount of shape shifters in the place was startling. Some of them were possibly metrognomes who just looked like lycans, but I think a lot of them were the real deal. The copious amounts of body hair and the beady-eyed, slouching stares give them away.

Then, toward the end of the evening, a small cadre of long, lithe vampires came in, palely seeking their leader. We thought we were going to be in the middle of an Underworld-style slayfest, but the death dealers must have all been elsewhere, because they retired to the corner of the bar, and things remained peaceful.

My absolute favorite quote of the night came from @SgtHotpants. When I told her that MyTodd™ and I had determined that most of the people there were lycans, she responded quizzically “What? They all face north?”

Anyway, it was fun.

Find Some F*cking Balance, Already

One of these nights I am going to rediscover the midpoint between a) soberly loathing everyone I see and b) falling-down drunkenly not minding them as much. But that night was definitely not last night.

Progression of the night was something like this*:

1. “WTF do you mean there’s no parking? Fuck this whole street full of people.”
2. “Oh gross, Backstreet is here and is the first person I see. Bleh.”
3. “Yay! Matt and Todd!”
4. “OK this end of the bar is fine, I like these people. Can I get a drink over here?”
5. “Yay! Dave!”
6. “Yay! Jessica!”
7. “Oh! Mix CD from Jessica, sweet.”
8. “WTF do you mean the men’s bathroom is broken? Great. Love to share the ladies’ bathroom with the guys. As if the bathroom situation here wasn’t fucked up enough already. Umm, no Dave, we’re not going to pee together holding hands across the table. No, not even if I have three more drinks.”
9. “Why are there so many people standing behind me? Stop standing behind me you horrible standy motherfuckers. Go away. Preferably somewhere dead.”
10. “Who’s Todd talking to? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not THAT GUY. Yeah, I still recognize and hate you with your beard shaved off, dickweasel. And your boyfriend, by association. Ugh. And HER too? And I even have to pretend to like her. Do I have to talk to her? I am going to pretend to be invisible. Fuck this noise.”
11. “Give me another drink please? Also I think a tranquilizer might be in order right about now, to take the edge off of how much I hate you all.”
12. Drink, drink, talk, drink. Hate on people.
13. “OK, whatever, these people suck some serious ass, but I don’t even care all that much. Hey, can I get another drink over here?”
14. “Yay! Molly!”
15. “Wait, where did Todd go?”
16. Txt to Todd: WTF I hate everyone where are you?
17. Txt from Todd: I am nine feet away, calm yourself. Don’t hate.
18. “OK, Todd’s within an acceptable range, although not visible. Can I have another drink please?”
19. Drink, drink, talk, drink. Hate on people, add people to list, talk, drink, talk. Begin greeting people I loathe with hugs and kisses.
20. “Oh, these are all my favorite people! What wonderful people I know! How wonderful life is! Srsly!”
21. “I am not sure if I can drink all of this drink, I feel a little oddball right about now.”
22. Sip drink, talk, talk, glance askance at drink, avoid drink, talk more.
23. “Oh, people are the best and most fun! What interesting conversation! How witty we all are! Life is so delightful!”
24. “Wait, I feel seriously strange right about now. Can I have some water or something?”
25. Txt to Todd: Srsly WTF? Where are you now?
26. Txt frm Todd: W/E! I am coming back!
27. Todd comes back!
28. “Todd! Hello Todd, only person I love in the whole world!”
29. “Todd I feel like maybe I need to go stand outside for a minute.”
30. “Todd, it’s really fucking cold out here, I feel like we need to go back in.”
31. “Four. Cheez-its. No, no dinner. Did I skip a step? I don’t want to be here anymore.”
32. Sit, talk, chat, talk, drink water. People come and go.
33. “Yay! Hotpants!”
34. I don’t feel well at all. At least I don’t have hiccups.
35. “Todd, I really wish I was at home in bed right this minute.”
36. “Mangia? Are you fucking kidding my shit? No. Home, bed, please.”
37. Home.

So I am going to chalk last night up as mostly FAIL. I had fun, but then felt so bad at the end that I couldn’t even enjoy the fun I was having. I don’t know what happened to the perfect therapeutic drinking level balance that I was rocking for the last 6 months, because that was really working for me. I think that the worse my work-week is, the more I think drinking is going to fix it on Friday, which is (duh) obviously not the case. And I resent trying to have fun and then being forced to talk to people I don’t like, because I can’t talk about anything real with people I don’t like standing right there. They always try to jump in with their opinions, and I want to punch them in the face for their presumption. My brain has learned that drinking=not minding people as much, so then I drink more faster because I really want to not hate everyone.

But next time I’m going to just count on my hatred of everyone slowly dissipating through the night as I relax, rather than wanting it to be immediately gone and pounding down drinks until that happens. That process = a world of bad stomach feelings, pronounced dizziness and sometimes hiccups.

Also I have a really strong feeling that someone gave me a Girls Gone Wild DVD last night and I left it at the bar. However I also have an equally strong feel that was a dream, because I can’t imagine who would do that or why.

Also, when I talk about hating everyone, I don’t mean YOU. I mean, you’re one of my favorite people! Of course I don’t mean you! It’s the others. The others I loathe, precious.

*texts are paraphrased because I don’t feel like going to find my phone and figure out what they really said. That’s what I remember of them. Also some details have been glossed over and/or omitted so as to protect the dignity of your friendly neighborhood superBadGirl.

Protected: Things that are confusing

Antisocial Networking

People baffle me. Particularly the way that they use social media/networking, and how they conflate the various sections of their lives online. Don’t get it, can’t understand it, possibly never will. I suppose I can be considered as keeping kosher with my personality – the different areas of the life I lead (work, family, friends) must be kept from touching and mingling with the other parts, on pain of my feeling nauseated,vaguely sinful and ashamed.

I don’t want to go out for dinner and drinks with my colleagues. I don’t want to run into my employees while out at the bar. I don’t want my family to meet my friends, I don’t want my online friends to know my offline friends. No political and religious conversations with my coworkers. No family at work, no coworkers in my online social network – no crossover is what we aim for.

That’s why Facebook befuddles me so hard. All of you people using your real name and real picture and posting links and comments on each other’s walls whilst joyfully commingling the dairy and meat of your social circles… just eww!

For one thing, that content is never going to go away – so how can you possibly be yourself? The real me and the work me and the casual friend me and the good friend me aren’t the same me! I don’t talk about the same things and in the same way to any of those audiences.  And I really don’t want future employers (or my mother) finding my online crazy foulmouthed ramblings. And if you think Facebook’s privacy/security is actually secure – well you’re wrong. They’re in the business of monetizing your personal data. Hackers and employees’ lost laptops aside, that vast stash of raw data they’ve accumulated is going to be mined. Believe it.

Nonetheless, I am not immune to the pleasures of finding old HS friends online and laughing about how you always hated them, and how dumb their family photos are. I have old colleagues I’d like to stay in touch with, but not share my intimate life with. I am interested in a purely voyeuristic way in linking up with old college buddies to see what they’re doing now. So for that you have to use your real identity, so they can find you and spill all their crazy at your feet.

But I also want to interact authentically with my actual monkeysphere. And to do that I can’t be the “real” me, because all the old colleagues and HS idiots and college buddies are not privy to the real me. Eyeballs off.

So it’s a conundrum, sort of. Which I’ve solved this way:

If I’ve ever worked with or for you, or gone to school with you (HS or college)  – if you’re my sorority sister or someone I met at a seminar, you’re friended under my real name acct. and chances are you have no idea who superBadGirl is. (which means you’re not reading this, so fuck off anyway.)

If I’ve ever gotten drunk with you and/or sent you filthy text messages, if I met you online, if we talk/chat on a regular basis, if I’ve ever cried on your shoulder, or made you look at LOLcats, you’re connected to my superBadGirl account.

They’re both real, they’re just two halves of the whole real.  Of course, some of you poor saps know both halves of me, and I had to choose one for you. So if I had you connected under my real name and unfriended you today, it’s because I have you on my other account, and those two cannot commingle without me having to call a rabbi.

The rest of you, who mash everything up together into a big old squishy life-burrito and then happily munch it all down… just eww. It makes my brain itch just thinking about it! Don’t come crying to me when those pole-dancing photos of yours come up in your job interview 10 years from now.

Christmas Wrap-Up — Part 1 “The Eve.”

Oh Christmas. You most fun and joyous of all holidays. (Aside from every other holiday, including flag day.)

OK, fine it wasn’t that bad. Since I have now learned to go with the crazy-ass flow of my family and their nonsensical antics, I had a peaceful day filled with laughter, which didn’t even involve alcohol or chemicals. That’s pretty impressive, now that I reflect upon it.

Christmas Eve saw myself and MyTodd™ wanting to create a new Christmas Eve tradition for ourselves, since his family no longer gets together on CEve, and mine never did. He had to work early on Christmas day, so no late-night carousing for us. We decided to have an early dinner, and then go ride around looking at Christmas lights with the top down on his convertible. It was chilly, but we were going to work that out through the application of copious amounts of butt-heat and regular heat. We were also going to cheer the houses we liked, perhaps singing a joyous carol, and hurl day-old cupcakes at the houses we didn’t like.

With this plan in mind, we set off for Mangia, where neither of us had eaten for years (ever since the “pasta that tasted like paint thinner” debacle way back when they first re-opened.) But all these people had been raving about their damn food, so we decided to see if they were just lemmings, running off a paint-thinner slicked hill to their own gastronomic doom. Turns out they weren’t kidding, as everything was delicious. We even ate dessert. Was somewhat weird and awkward having people I know bringing me food. It seemed rude somehow, like having a house party and telling your friends to go ahead and wash your windows while they’re over. But I’ve never been one to comfortably conflate the personal and the commercial, so my minimal discomfort was to be expected.

Food done, we decided to stay and have one drink before our cake-throwing festivities commenced. Yeah. Well it turned into 4-5 drinks apiece, and we stayed all evening. It was fun though, since it seemed that someone we knew came into the bar every 20 minutes or so, so we had a steady stream of friends popping by, and we didn’t even have to go anywhere. We headed home by 10pm though, like the old fogies we are.

Miscellaneous Weekend Wrap-Up Ramblings

This weekend passed too quickly, as they all do when they’re a paltry two days. Full week of work this week (though Friday is pretty much all party.) Two days the week after that, and then off for eleven days in a row. Thank you FSM.

Went shopping Friday after work and I think I have finally resolved the shit-sucking tights dilemma of 2008. Unfortunately I had to solve it to the tune of $28/pair tights, but these things are awesome so I suppose it’s worth it. I also got some insanely cute knee-highs with bows, though I can’t imagine when and where I will wear them. Can a woman with bows on her knee-highs be taken seriously in a work environment? Something tells me not so much.

Nothing much to report on Friday night, random lip kisser struck again, so I guess I am just going to have to get used to that. He’s pretty harmless, but dude – it’s cold and flu season. Seriously.

Ended up sitting next to R, who is so entirely aggravating I don’t know why he doesn’t get punched in the mouth more often. At one point he said that I was being as mean to him as Molly always is, and I had to point out that perhaps Molly is mean to him for a reason. And P.S., please don’t try to talk to me about fucking web marketing when I am out drunk on a Friday evening. The last thing I want to think about is goddammed web marketing, and what’s wrong with you anyway? Web marketing at midnight on a Friday. Piss off.

Ran into Mussssssster, who was trying to explain my chart to me, all about the conflict between my intellect and my emotion, but who the feck doesn’t have one of those? Anyway, I was drunk by then and don’t remember most of what he said. How come everyone always tells me how much I’m in conflict with myself without coming up with some kind of strategy to ameliorate that? What do I need, a Cuisinart for my psyche?

Not the actual tuque in question, but you get the idea.

Apparently random WayOut hat guy from this summer was back in the bar, but Matt wisely waited until he was gone before even letting me know he was there, so I didn’t have to freak out—even though Matt said he was trying to come over to me. Ugh. Apparently the human body barricade strategy is working well for me, because nobody but my friends was rubbing up on me—until the very end of the night when Red Tuque felt like he needed to be grabbing up in my hair, explaining to me that I had a lot of it. Thank you for that newsflash you headwear-challenged piece of shit, and also please enjoy a fist to the nutsack. Get your hands out of my fucking hair. Jesus.

Umm, other than that it was fun?

MyTodd™ had an after-hours, but I was not feeling any of that. And he had fucking Backstreet over there, without stabbing him in the neck and dumping him in the alley, even. He’s definitely getting marked up on his report card this year for fraternizing with my enemies. Also, I hear that a mutual friend of ours who is in a seemingly committed relationship fucked Backstreet in Todd’s basement. I can’t decide what is more nauseating—fucking Backstreet, period or fucking anyone in a south-city spider infested basement. Lack of taste and discretion all around. No ambulances were called, and that’s usually a good end to one of MyTodd’s™ get togethers.

Saturday I lazed around and did some gooey-butter-cake baking, and then went to a party in the p.m. with a bunch of people I barely know. Without MyTodd™even, so I get a gold star for that shite. I do believe I had a nice time, and everyone was nice to me. I tried not to frown at anyone accidentally. Actually, I had to take so many calming drugs to make my attendance possible that I don’t remember clearly all of what happened. If my sketchy memory serves I think I talked way too much and eventually lost control of my word-making mechanism. At one point I was trying to explain to someone about a girl named Bridget’s odd fetish, which somehow turned into a conflated “her british.” (It was an odd, adorable fetish but not especially Anglo.)

Anyway, I don’t do new people very well, but award myself 7/10 for trying. I can only hope that eventually all new people will turn into “Oh, those old people?” and then it’s not a big deal anymore. But for that to happen you have to keep doing this thing called “socializing” with them. It’s a process involving sharing the same space at the same time while simultaneously conversing and/or participating in a coordinated group activity*. MyTodd™ keeps trying to explain it to me, but it’s way more algebra than I can handle without a graphing calculator.

Today was a late start, spent most of the early p.m. cleaning the bathroom (Thank you, barkeeper’s friend. You can be my friend too!) and cursing the hard water in this city. Todd and I were going to run errands and then Dave invited us over for some dinner, so we stopped by and devoured his delicious carnitas. I have to stop letting him feed us so often. Mayhap I will have to have them over here for a Sunday dinner in the next few weeks. I could cook Indonesian again, maybe.

Shine On Me, You Magical Man

I showed both of them the Shine On Me video, and we decided that Mikespresso is PERFECT to play Chris Dane Owens next year for our Halloween epic costumed adventure. I maintain my desire to be the curly-haired evil witch. MyTodd™ said he was definitely going as the alligator. He also opined that the video crew probably found it more cost-efficient to buy, rather than rent, the wind machine they used on their sets, and I believe he was correct. I am thinking that there needs to be a whole new LARP universe devoted to all things Chris Dane Owens. Because you just know parts 2&3 of this video trilogy are going to kick even more ass than the original did. Who knows what new characters and imagery he will introduce into this Shine world? I vote an Asian theme, which must include ninjas. Ninjas on centaurs.

And that’s it. Another weekend done. And a wintry mix on the way, but probably not arriving soon enough to get me the day off tomorrow.

and shut up about it already.

OK, seriously? For the last time? People at the social places I go? I am NOT SAD. I am NOT DEPRESSED. Stop asking me what’s wrong, there’s nothing wrong, my FACE JUST LOOKS LIKE THAT.

My neutral expression = frown/sad face. If I am thinking about something and not talking/drinking, I am going to be frowning. My mouth naturally turns down at the corners, it’s doing it right now. Consider it a birth defect, whatever. I also tend to like to lurk in dark corners, people watching. Unless you see the razor out, I am not planning to sit over there in the dark using my wrists for cutting boards.

Here is an actual sad face, for reference

I accept that you think I ought to be sad. But I’m actually not. Sometimes I just want to sit on my own and watch what’s happening, rather than participate. It’s called introversion, and i know it makes you uncomfortable. Get over it.

Introversion isn’t always the same as anti-socialism. Introverts are social in a different way. It’s not a wrong way, it’s just a different way.

And really, stop asking me why I am sad, because you’re making me paranoid.

In any case, even if there WERE something wrong with me, “Hey girl, you need to come play some darts with me and my strange group of shady looking friends you never met before, won’t that be fun?” Isn’t going to be the solution. I don’t even like darts.

In other news, I actually had a pretty good time last night, everyone was relatively nice and the whole place felt gezellig. I didn’t realize that everybody in the world had a birthday in December, but it seemed like everyone at the bar was celebrating their b-day last night. I was able to get there early enough to buy a round for the whole bar in celebration of my raise without bankrupting myself (although I skipped buying one for that pinball playing guy who was there in the corner because I can tell he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. So there. See how it’s done?) I was pleasant to all my secret nemeses, and ignored completely my non-secret nemesis, because I really wish he would fall into a vat of mixed petrochemicals, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.

Today = errand running with MyTodd™ and maybe the craft show at Mad Art? Then this crazy bacon party tonight, and I still don’t know what to bring.

I think I might just paint a big fucking joker smile across my face though, so people will stop asking me what’s wrong with me. They’ll be too scared.

Random Thoughts for Mid-November & the Weekly L.I.E.

Yesterday was a good day. It was miserably cold (for November – which is the same weather that we’ll consider positively spring-like when it shows up again some time in March.) and we saw the first snow flurries of the season. But I didn’t have to go anywhere, so I cocooned here with the dogs, writing and napping and cleaning the kitchen and baking frozen pizza. I wrote more than 5,000 words, and they were pretty easy to write. On Friday I barely yanked 1,000 words out of my highly-recalcitrant brain, and each one hurt. Yesterday’s words practically jumped out onto the page. That’s a nice feeling.

This whole thing with taking all the Fridays in November off to use for extra writing time, it’s not working exactly as I thought it would, but it is really working. Instead of turning into some kind of writing machine on Fridays I’ve been using the day to decompress, run errands, get my mental house in order. And just not having to be in the cosmic shithole of stress and aggravation that is my job, that’s a benefit in and of itself. Then on Saturdays I can get some writing done, since I don’t have to use that day to decompress.

I’ve also been going out on Fridays, as usual, and that is adding to my mental well-being too. I had a moment this Friday where I looked around and realized I was surrounded by people I really liked. (Of course I’d had a few drinks, so even people I don’t like all that much were seeming more like people I at least sort of liked.) It was just such a cool feeling, hanging out with a bunch of friendly familiar faces, talking about things with people who either share your point of view or will argue vehemently against it and maybe change your mind. I caught a fleeting glimmer of why other people like to socialize. Because for just that moment the world felt like a warm, friendly place. For a few hours I lost that persistent feeling that life is perpetually gearing up to clock me in the face. I relaxed.

I wonder if the world feels like a friendly place to other people all of the time, or at least most of the time? And if it does, I wonder if they know how lucky they are?

I also made more of an effort to pay attention to what was going on around me, but it was really hard. When MyTodd™ and I went out on Monday there were four separate occasions in which he had to point out to me that someone was either trying to say hello, goodbye or converse with me. Which is why, as he explained, people sometimes think I am an asshole. (Which, yeah I am an asshole, but not the kind who purposely ignores you if you’re trying to talk to me. Seriously, I didn’t see you there.) And on Friday someone came up to me and waved at me for 15 seconds, directly six inches from my face before I figured out they were trying to get my attention. Anyway, we’re going to call that “extreme internal focus” and not “criminally absentminded cluelessness” because we’re trying to be nice to me, OK?

Of course it’s never me going out unless I end up having some type of Ludicrous Interpersonal Exchange with someone, and this week’s exchange actually came from a guy that I know, rather than a random weirdo stranger.  (Sorry weirdo stranger guy at the bar who was eyeballing me and seemed to be vying for this week’s most ludicrous exchange, my friends helpfully created a physical barrier between us for most of the evening, and I made sure that I was never alone so you couldn’t get weird with me.)

Anyway, when I walked in I was greeting everyone. That’s a standard social convention to which I subscribe. But of course there’s always that thing when you’re greeting a bunch of people where you know you’re in the friendship stage at which you hug some of them hello and then you end up hugging like two-thirds of the group, but then there’s a few people who you don’t know well enough to hug, and they’re standing there all unhugged-akimbo and it’s awkward. And you try to fuss with your purse or order a drink to cover up how you’re not hugging them, and then it’s all over and the awkwardness is done for another week. Or until it’s time to leave.

Well there was one guy there who I know well enough to have just started hugging hello the last few times I’ve seen him. So I had greeted everyone else and I was going to be sitting next to him, so I was all “Hello <<Name>>!” and I hugged him. And I may have done a little air-kiss thing next to his cheek, too. When we were done embracing he asked me “Are we ‘kiss on the cheek’ friends now?” Which to me is a step up from hugging friends, but I didn’t want to be an awkward asshole, so was like “Of course!” and he said something like “Are you sure?” and I said. “Sweetie, whatever you want! You want a little tongue in the ear action, you can have that too.”

OK so obvious disclaimer here, that was a joke.That wasn’t even a particularly flirty joke, it was kind of a ridiculous joke.

Then somehow as I am fussing with my purse and ordered a drink he segues into “OK it’s decided then, we’re going to kiss on the lips now!” Seriously! And then he kisses me on the lips! And I was all ‘WTF just happened right here?’ in my head, but trying to play it off like he hadn’t just swiped half my lip gloss. So I just laughed and wished a lot that I could sit somewhere else. Luckily right that second he got a call that he had to go pick someone up, and took off. OK, that was weird.

So later in the evening my friend Dave showed up. Now, Dave is a most excellent friend because he’s extremely even-tempered, and he finds pretty much everything ridiculous. So you can totally point out ridiculous things and people to him all night long, and he gets the humor of it, but he just accepts everything with a nice calm way of being. Todd says it’s because Dave’s already seen every freaky thing in the world and there’s nothing left for him to get excited over, but I think it’s also part of his nature. It’s hard to explain, but it’s the perfect foil for my own sense of the ridiculous + tendency to freak out a little. His calm enhances my calm, and I like it. So Dave ended up sitting next to me at some point in the evening, just when I saw this other guy show back up.

Knowing he’d appreciate the bizarre contractual aspect of those kissing negotiations, I started telling him the story. “OMG, when <<name>> came in earlier, I was all “hey” and then he was all “hey, now we’re going to be ‘kiss on the lips’ friends!” and I was all “!!!” and then now we’re apparently kiss on the lips friends! Isn’t that fucked up?” And Dave was laughing that that was indeed fucked up, because he knows I am barely ever hugging on people I really like, much less kissing people I don’t know well. And then as I am sitting there telling him that story, here comes the original guy, leans over Dave’s shoulder and fucking smacks one right on my lips again! And then he says to Dave “We’ve agreed that we’re going to do this from now on.” and then he looks at me and says “Right?” and I am all “Uh huh!” and Dave is laughing his ass off. And I am realizing that not only does this guy think we’re kiss on the lips friends, but we’re apparently kiss on the lips friends every time we see each other in the evening! What? I mean, what prompts that, exactly? How long do we have to be absent from each other for that to kick in? If I leave to pee, when I come back do I have to do another round of lip-kissing? What?

And before anyone says it is some kind of weird hitting on me thing, it’s not. When the guy left earlier it was to pick up his girlfriend, who was then sitting right there for the return-kissage. I think he’s just kissy or something, I don’t know.

And even if the poor man was desperate enough to want to have me in his back pocket as some kind of “break glass in case of not having your dick sucked in six months” emergency ration, and this kiss thing is supposed to be laying the groundwork for that, it’s totally going to backfire, because now I am going to have to dodge him every time I see him! Tiresome! Anyway, that was the Ludicrous Interpersonal Exchange of the evening, for your reading pleasure. Now breakfast.