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Feb. 14th, 2005 04:20 pmFriday brought a weekend motivational retreat with one Miss Janette. Much cawing and flapping commenced on her arrival, despite a momentary round of "Where are you standing? I can see all the same things you can see."
I drove to Trenton for the first time by myself. For the first time period, if you want to get truly technical. Cigarettes, citrus hard candies and the sweet sound of no working car radio accompanied me on my drive up there. I seem to have done something to offend my car's radio, because it hasn't been speaking to me for weeks, no matter how hard I slam the ashtray. I press the orange power button and it sits there brokenly grinning in silent recrimination.
Miss J and I staggered back to the apartment and dumped all of our belongings on the Engineer's floor, smoked far too many cigarettes and headed right back out again. We had diner food (guess who's wallet was returned to them, sans four hundred dollars in cash?) with the Amazing Larry, more flapping and preening of feathers in the aisles of the local video store, then a home viewing of The Grudge, complete with Bitch Vision (TM) for Miss J. She and I then stayed up until five-thirty in the morning eating Meox Mix, being raspy voiced from smoking too much and drinking wine (her) and Bacardi (me).
Saturday saw us rising quite late, something which I haven't done in ages (although I will sleep for days if no one steps in and puts a stop to my slumber). No breakfast, only Ghiardelli hot chocolate in a black mug with bats on (mine). Then she and I ran out to do Miss Janette and Tara things, which eventually involved my buying a black party dress for an occasion that is not scheduled and thusly, does not exist.
Miss Robin and Saint Rick joined us later that evening, meeting us at the doors to the apartment building. More diner food (with the added bonus of me fighting with the wait staff about labret piercings), another movie (Love Object), then Miss J and I staying up until six thirty in the morning.
There is nothing quite like being breathless and doubled over a half-folded out sofa bed, repeating over and over again: No habla Pringles! No habla Pringles!
Morning breaks and I bury my face under blankets. Reality has become a bit thin and I'm starting to notice a pattern between onsets of reality breaks and my eating patterns. Notes are made to self to look into this, then promptly forgotten.
I bought lovely red glass and dark brass candlesticks for mybordello bedroom, which has not seen my body in three days. A new clock with a hidden door (more clocks should have hidden compartments, I think). Candy. A nasty sandwich at Borders cafe, which appeared to have had dried out and dessicated grass clippings springled over top of it. I scraped off the bulk of it with my plastic and useless knife, but there was still the distinct flavour of Mmmm...Lawncare in every bite. The white cheddar and fontina cheese was also not melted all the way through and therefore, there were large chunks of Wow, cold! cheese in the middle of it.
To cheer myself up, I booty-disco-danced in cat-headed slippers behind an oblivious stranger in the soft drink aisle of the late night grocery store. Later, Miss J taught me the wonders of pomengrate juice mixed with seltzer. Something which is odd-tasting, but wholly enjoyable. I may buy some on my drive home from work.
The drive back to Trenton this morning was rainy and precarious. We talked all manner of trash. I'MA CUT A BITCH! My drive home was silent, as my radio seemed to still be angry at me for whatever unforgiveable slight I committed against it.
Work is work, as ever. Although today is blessed with my hating the non-disclosure agreement I signed when I started working here because there is SOME BIG SHIT going on and I'm about to explode from it all. I'm the only non-management staff member who knows and I have no one to flap about it to.
Today is a very sad day, indeed.
I think I'll celebrate by going outside for a cigarette in the rain and the mist.
I drove to Trenton for the first time by myself. For the first time period, if you want to get truly technical. Cigarettes, citrus hard candies and the sweet sound of no working car radio accompanied me on my drive up there. I seem to have done something to offend my car's radio, because it hasn't been speaking to me for weeks, no matter how hard I slam the ashtray. I press the orange power button and it sits there brokenly grinning in silent recrimination.
Miss J and I staggered back to the apartment and dumped all of our belongings on the Engineer's floor, smoked far too many cigarettes and headed right back out again. We had diner food (guess who's wallet was returned to them, sans four hundred dollars in cash?) with the Amazing Larry, more flapping and preening of feathers in the aisles of the local video store, then a home viewing of The Grudge, complete with Bitch Vision (TM) for Miss J. She and I then stayed up until five-thirty in the morning eating Meox Mix, being raspy voiced from smoking too much and drinking wine (her) and Bacardi (me).
Saturday saw us rising quite late, something which I haven't done in ages (although I will sleep for days if no one steps in and puts a stop to my slumber). No breakfast, only Ghiardelli hot chocolate in a black mug with bats on (mine). Then she and I ran out to do Miss Janette and Tara things, which eventually involved my buying a black party dress for an occasion that is not scheduled and thusly, does not exist.
Miss Robin and Saint Rick joined us later that evening, meeting us at the doors to the apartment building. More diner food (with the added bonus of me fighting with the wait staff about labret piercings), another movie (Love Object), then Miss J and I staying up until six thirty in the morning.
There is nothing quite like being breathless and doubled over a half-folded out sofa bed, repeating over and over again: No habla Pringles! No habla Pringles!
Morning breaks and I bury my face under blankets. Reality has become a bit thin and I'm starting to notice a pattern between onsets of reality breaks and my eating patterns. Notes are made to self to look into this, then promptly forgotten.
I bought lovely red glass and dark brass candlesticks for my
To cheer myself up, I booty-disco-danced in cat-headed slippers behind an oblivious stranger in the soft drink aisle of the late night grocery store. Later, Miss J taught me the wonders of pomengrate juice mixed with seltzer. Something which is odd-tasting, but wholly enjoyable. I may buy some on my drive home from work.
The drive back to Trenton this morning was rainy and precarious. We talked all manner of trash. I'MA CUT A BITCH! My drive home was silent, as my radio seemed to still be angry at me for whatever unforgiveable slight I committed against it.
Work is work, as ever. Although today is blessed with my hating the non-disclosure agreement I signed when I started working here because there is SOME BIG SHIT going on and I'm about to explode from it all. I'm the only non-management staff member who knows and I have no one to flap about it to.
Today is a very sad day, indeed.
I think I'll celebrate by going outside for a cigarette in the rain and the mist.