I’ve got very good friends: Shae, Easton, Ane, Megan, Bridget, Ryann. You’d love them all.
Star Lite Swap Meet was a bust. Everybody was selling the same things: leggings with crazy prints, jeans with bejeweled butt pockets, big sparkling dresses for Quinceañera celebrations, cheap sunglasses, men’s Mexican rodeo clothing, and glitzy, cheaply made party dresses that I’d have to shave everything in order to wear.
Of course I knew it wasn’t a good idea to take a hydrocodone and drink 2 gin & tonics and 2 IPAs last night, but I wanted to have fun. I had slept through the alarm that was supposed to wake me from my after-work nap so I could make it to my 7.30p yoga class, and I was disappointed. It was the 3rd class in a 6-week series. It’s the only healthy thing I’m doing for myself right now. As Patrick and I walked by the studio on our way to the bar I discreetly glanced into the window and saw them doing the cobra pose. The students and teacher were glowy and blissed-out. After the bar I ate taquitos and tortilla chips and we watched Batman Forever with the Kevin Smith commentary. (Patrick is a Batman comic books and movies fan.) Because I was high, I spent extra time preparing myself for bed. I washed my face gently and thoroughly and rubbed nice-smelling body oil all over myself before getting into bed and falling immediately to sleep. My throat is dry this morning, I just want to spend the day on the couch, but I’ve got to go to work. There are 3 agenda items on my calendar that I really must be there to do. I’ll get myself through the day by telling myself I can sleep as long as I want when I get home from work. P has a show tonight, which I probably won’t want to attend, and I’ll end up feeling guilty and bad about not going. Because P will tell me I should want to spend time with him and isn’t willing/able to understand that I really don’t like going to bars on weekend nights when there are bands playing- even if one of them is his- and the music is so loud that I couldn’t even talk to people if I wanted to, and I end up spending $40 on drinks and feel like shit the next day. At least we’re going to the Star Lite Swap Meet in Tacoma tomorrow, which is something we’ve never done and will probably enjoy.
Whenever your boss says, “Oh, have I got a fun project for you today!”, you know it’s going to fucking suck.
When I think of death as a long nap, then I’m not scared of it at all. I love naps.
Somewhere in the religious aspect of my upbringing I remember being told that any number in a succession of 3 is a symbol of Satan- not just 666, but 333 and 888 and so on.
I also heard that signing is like praying twice.
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