I am having the best day -- a completely easy, lazy-ass, take-the-day-off, girlie-girl kind of day. I did wind up spending the night at Scott's after all and have the whole day to myself. Apart from the nagging back pain, tooth pain, bladder pain, heart palpitations from the crappy breakfast I had, my shaking head and the Fibromyalgia, we're doing pretty good here.
I've been watching the rain come down in Scott's soon-to-be-a-garden, garden, laying on the couch petting the cat, watching Joey on Scott's Tivo, (I'm rooting for him -- hope it succeeds -- so far so good), and reading a little bit from each of my two new favorite books, The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro, (it's so funny I've had to stop myself from breaking the law by typing up passages from it to share with you), and Wake Up Sir! by Jonathan Ames.
It's weird how you can think you are going to be doing one thing and then despite all your worrying everything suddenly veers off in a completely different direction and you realize you never had to worry about any of it in the first place. I had slept with my cell phone on the pillow next to me last night because my Mom was worried that Rosa wasn't going to show up in time to take her to her doctor's for her shot so I needed to be on call in case she needed me to do it, but she never called. I woke up late worried that the appraiser might have already arrived at my house and realized that I hadn't even taken the transparencies to Kinkos and that there were orange and black plastic boxes all over the porch. So I called him to see when he thought he might arrive and it turned out his earlier appointment had canceled and he didn't feel like driving all the way to Los Angeles anyway so we rescheduled, who knew? Then it was just a matter of asking the other Mom in our carpool if she could switch days with me, which she did, I called the DMV, cleared the messages off of my machine, handled all of my personal business via the phone and voila a free day, sort of. Now all I have to do is go to the Curves that is right around the corner from Scott's and keep myself from going to an animal shelter or a pet store and rescuing another cat -- there's just something empty about a house that doesn't have a gazillion cats in it ; )
You know sometimes I think I might make an interesting study in the developing sociolgu of -- oh wait spoke too soon, Tommy just threw up, I brought him over here to be with us -- can't be completely without a cat --okay so this isn't a completely girlie girl chore free day -- cat barf yuck. Shhh, don't tell Scott we've Christened his house, oh wait he's Jewish, what would that be then, we've umm, Talmuded his house, or well, since this is semi-Hollywood after all, we've Kabbalahd his house? Now all I need is an expensive red string to put around Tommy's neck, that and a bottle of champagne to smash against the wall. Off to look for paper towels and some kind of cleaning solution, yech...
Okay so as I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted by Tom Kitten's vomit, I think I would make an interesting study in the progressive development of the crazy cat lady personality type. Some sociologist could follow me from this point onwards, you know, interview me and take some pictures, then follow along as I get progressively weirder until I'm the old lady hermit who sleeps in her car because the cats have taken over the house and have piss claimed the bed. Don't laugh, it could happen, I saw it happen to one of my neighbors : ( Oh okay go ahead and laugh, you know that's what I do this for anyway, to make you laugh, I'm such a whore for laughs -- there's that word again, I'm embracing it, remember, taking it back for the sisterhood.
The metal security door and I have not made up since it stripped about fifty layers of skin right off the back of my ankle. It still hurts so as long as it hurts I will continue to give this door the cold shoulder while glaring back at it with beedy defensive eyes. Last night in my sweetly maternal way, (the way that Scott does not appreciate or find sexually appealing, damnit), I warned Scott to be careful of these two evil doors and he said, "Oh yeah, be careful of those things, you could get hurt," no duh boyfriend, I've only been bandaging my deeply gashed, blood seeping ankle for about, what, ten days now?
Now who was it who told me that giving my boyfriend a Vicodin was a good idea if I was hoping to get laid in his Jacuzzi, someone tell me that will you? (Yeah that's right I had half of a Vicodin since my toothache is finally settling down to a semi-manageable level, and I gave my man one too, so what, eat me, and I'm going to see Carnie Wilson in a couple of days so since I seem to be following in her footsteps, maybe she can give me some pointers on the whole, how do I deal with all of these feelings without as much food, thing.) I'm just full of these great plans. Now if I was hoping to get out of getting laid in his Jacuzzi, that would have made sense. And who made up the term laid and what the hell does that mean anyway? Lay as in lay down? I wasn't planning on laying down, no not at all.
Oh and in the never ending saga of, Jacqui's trying to make sense of her overflowing Friend's List, I was visiting the journals of people who had deleted me to see if I could bring myself to let them go, in order to make room for the many new pals who would like to be added, and came across the journal of someone I had considered to be a friend who had indeed defriended me. I wondered why since we had become friends just prior to our both having had our weight loss surgeries a little over a year and a half ago.
Well, I figured it out pretty quickly when I went to her journal only to discover that she had not only lost all the weight, looked fabulous, developed a rip-roaring, and highly detailed, (at least in her journal, hey, you think I'm detailed, you should see hers, "I sucked his cock so good..."), sex life, then got pregnant, went through an entire pregnancy, and had the baby who is now a couple months old, and I missed the whole thing. If she hadn't defriended me, I would have done it for her. Oh the shame of it.
Scott kindly consoled me by saying, 'Well, honey, time is different for you." Yeah, no kidding it is, I'd better get me some Botox and quick, because at the rate I'm going I'll be seventy and wondering what happened to my chances of winning an Oscar. I guess I could always toss an emerald necklace off the bow of the Titanic or something, never give up, never give up...
I keep trying to think of things to include in my journal bio that might help avert hurt feelings down the road; "Hey, I'm a fun read, but I suck at keeping up with my friends...Please don't ever take my spaciness personally, I really do mean well...I'll love you from afar in between sporadic visits...Come drag me over by my hair like a caveman if you need me, and even then I might just space out and need reminding." I'm serious, at least that way people won't expect too much from me and maybe I won't feel as tortured about it. I've also thought about including something like my pal ana has saying, "Don't expect me to use the Live Journal cut on my entries because damnit, I'm a ramblin' kind of gal and SOME people like it," and "I'll do my best not to post hard core porn images but if you're worried about work safe then maybe I'm not the gal for you," and "Hey, if you can't take a picture that's just slightly bigger than a Post It every once in a great while, then you should probably head on over to the, journals I can mold to my own controlling design specifications cause all I really care about is how my own journal looks anyway," argh! Okay I'll shut up now. Girlie-girl day, yeah that's right, gonna go to the Body Shop and buy some more of that inexpensive, mix-it-however-you-like-it perfume that I gave away to Esther's sister because she like it so much. If only I could get my stomach to settle down from the mini quiche and the left over mee krob from last night's pretty terrible Thai dinner. I'm waiting to feel well enough to drag my (shhh, don't tell Jacqui it's getting bigger, she's neurotic enough as it is,) ass iver to Curves so I can at least feel like I did one positive thing for my health today. Reading books and laying around watching the rain and Tivo is fine, but I have to keep my weight down, this weight loss was very hard won and I don't want to lose the gains I've made. Talking about loss and gains when you're writing about weight loss can get kind of confusing don't you think?
Will someone slap my face here and wake me up? The rain is making me sooo sleepy...I love it though. I know, tea, that's what I'll do, I'll go make some tea and get that caffeine coursing through my system, be right back... And, I'm back, that took about as much time as it would take you to tie your velcro sport shoes because Scott's new house has a spiffy filtered water Insta-Hot attachment, but then of couse I had to go pee, I always have to go pee. Hmmm, maybe I should add something to the bio about being the kind of person who writes candidly about bodily functions, although not quite as graphically as say, Kiitos, (nothing against Kiitos, freedom of expression is a beautiful thing, I just have a hard time with graphic descriptions of poop, I have a history here that is too hard for me to go into too often, long story,) but I'm definitely out there.
I had more of my usual weird and vivid dreams last night because I'm finally getting caught up on a week's worth of lost sleep and my poor subconscious is just screaming to be heard above the din of late night talk radio, cat fights, and my monkey mind, (you liked that didn't cha Scotty?), but I won't bore you with them, besides I have to get back to watching Joey. Someone needs to tell them that they can go ahead and let Drea DeMatteo look as gorgeous as she really is, I swear I think they are dimming down her looks to make her look old enough to be the "Mother" chanracter, while I don't see them doing anything to make Matt LeBlanc look any less glam and Hollywood handsome.
Okay cross your fingers for me, if I'm lucky, and don't give Scott any narcotic pain relievers, I might actually get lucky, heh, heh, if you know what I mean ; ) Oh I so hope none of my Mother's friends ever get ahold of my journal somehow, and read any of this, I would die. Wait, I'll fix this, "I love George Bush! I love George Bush! War, war, war! Big corporations good, Sean Penn and the ACLU baaaadddd!" How's that?
Much love from your scatterbrained but very well meaning friend,
PS: I don't remember what I was going to say here. Oh yeah, am I one of the few people you know who actually got a flu shot this year, and if so, how weird is that since I rarely ever get them because I am spooked about the whole process of making flu vaccine and the efficacy of them in the first place? Weirdness, super weirdness, I'm starting to think I was meant to have one or something since my immune system is so well, special.
Bring on the wine coolers girls, I gotta have something to numb the pain ; )</a>