Why yes, as a matter of fact I have...

I got another message from Cassie the other day.  Hi Cassie!  It was a really nice message.  All the messages she sends me are really nice.

I don't really know Cassie.  I've never met her.  Cassie might not even be her real name.  I know her only through the internet, through this weird little blog-world that fascinates and terrifies me all at once.  We are aware of each other because we both like to take pictures of shadows.  You can see hers here.  She also has a thing for Norwegian singers, apparently, which means she's a dirty, lusty lady just like me so no wonder we get along so well.  I would love to steal her URL fifty years from now, although I think she's using it unfairly.  It's way too early for that.  Old lady?  Really?  I don't think so, Cassie...

Anyway, she asked if I had burnt out on blogging since my thirty day marathon last month, and my only reply was well, yes I have, as a matter of fact, I've burnt out on life COMPLETELY over the past month and a half and I'm wondering if it isn't time to go find a job pitting olives or labeling cheese somewhere, somewhere where I'LL NEVER HAVE TO SPEAK TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING AGAIN, something, you know, away from the general public, just so I don't spend the rest of my days locked up for mass murder or something crazy (yet completely logical) like that.

Yet I'm stuck behind a bar, where my very livelihood depends on pretending to be nice to people.  Kill me now.  I beg you.

The other night, over fancy beer and trail mix, I expressed to D.G. my desire to go "Down the Line" with a baseball bat and he slowly backed away with a pleasant, yet terrified look on his face.

"Another beer, wanderlust?  Or three?"

Absolutely.

Anyway.

Yes, I'm still here, but you really don't want to hear from me right now.  Really.  Trust me.  It's best for everyone.  There's no telling what might come out of my mouth right now.  Next thing you know I'll be strung up by my earlobes in some whacked-out republic no one's ever heard of for insulting their version of Allah and I'll end up holding all of YOU responsible for it, because I'm rational like that.

Give me a minute to stop hating everyone and everything and I'll be back with random, senseless photos and postings any day now, thank you very much.  (most likely when motherfucking Chri$tma$ is over)  Also, if I'm feeling nice in the upcoming day or two, (that means don't piss me off, people) I'll tell you about my dinner at Dovetail.  Now THAT gives you a reason to wake up tomorrow, doesn't it?  Mmm, Dovetail...

Day 25

We're on Day 25 and I've really got nothing here.  Sure, there's plenty going on, and I have to work later and let's not even talk about the bathroom floor.  But I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it and I'm at the library because I couldn't do the Christmas music today, I really couldn't, and it was everywhere, literally everywhere, every coffee shop, everywhere with internet, so I had to come over here to get some peace and fucking quiet and internet.

FUCK, it sucks not having internet at home.  Of COURSE it had to cut out a week after I literally committed to being on the internet at least once a day for an entire fucking month.  Of course of course of course, blah blah blah.  I'm really wishing I had made it a bet instead of just accepting the challenge like a dumbass.  I really wish I was better at thinking things through.  I'm pretty sure I've already said that here before.  Oh well.

On a different subject entirely.  I noticed something kind of interesting today.  The battery in my camera is almost completely drained, which usually wouldn't be all that interesting.  The battery in my camera drains all the time, especially when my boyfriend has his shirt off.  What's interesting about it is that the battery is drained because I haven't used it.  At all.  I've had my camera out maybe twice in the past two weeks.

That's odd.  That's not like me.  Usually my battery drains once a week from overuse.  Lately I've been completely uninspired.  I feel like I should do something about that.  What exactly?  Fuck.  Who knows.  I wish recharging my inspiration were as easy as plugging in my battery.

More fuel for the fire

Things were looking up for a minute there.  It was a good weekend, I got lots of sleep.  I made an appointment for someone to come finish my bathroom floor Wednesday morning. (they'd better fucking show up)  I went and bought lots of happy, clothes and a wine rack.  All kinds of shit, crazy on sale.  All over the neighborhood.

So yeah, I thought things might be on an upswing, I thought my mood might be about to improve, then I got a phone call last night informing me that the bicycle I left in New Orleans had been stolen.

Moth-er-FUCK-er.

I LOVED that fucking bicycle.  We went everywhere together.  FUUUCK.

This is the only picture I have.  I took it with my phone when I brought it home:

                


Now I have no fucking transportation when I visit.  Fantastic.  This is getting better and better.

It's quite a feeling, being fucked over in absentia.  I wasn't in the same zip-code, wasn't even in the same TIME ZONE.  And still?

I don't even know what else to say anymore.

One down, two to go

Well, that's over with. Thanksgiving really is an awful holiday. What exactly are we celebrating again? The fact that a bunch of white people came over in boats, raped and pillaged the natives and stole their land? Right. Somehow, I'm less than thankful.

Yesterday was a good day though, the Saints won, the curry was delicious, and the rum was aged. Best of all, we didn't have to see or talk to anyone else. Her neighbor tried to get us to come over to "celebrate" but we hid downstairs with the lights out.

So now there's only Christmas and New Year's to get through and I'm in the clear. This is absolutely the worst time of year. It's nauseating, all that forced cheer and insincerity. Endless marketing and consumerism. Complete stangers admonishing me to "have a happy holidaaaaay!!" Christmas decorations. Christmas music. I'm going to smack somebody.

Thanksgiving is easier to avoid than Christmas. People are much more insistent about Christmas for some reason. They're all in your face and very forceful. What really kills me is how crazy people get every year when they ask what I'm doing for the holiday and I say "Nothing." They go absolutely insane.

"WHAT? OH, NOOO!! That's AWWWFUUUL! You CAN'T be alone on CHRIIIISSTMAAASS!!"

Really? That's funny. I think I can, actually.

It never ceases to amaze me that these same people couldn't give a fuck less that I'm alone on the other 364 days out of the year, but all of a sudden on Christmas it's a federal fucking emergency. Seriously, people? Go fuck yourselves.

Bah humbug

Are you fucking kidding me? I went to to work yesterday and walked into the building and this is what I saw. They're putting a Christmas tree up. A fucking CHRISTMAS tree. It's not even fucking Thanksgiving yet! What the fuck! Now I have to look at that shit every fucking day? Fan-fucking-tastic.

I hate Christmas. I'm not sure if you knew that already, but now you do. The entire six week period from Thanksgiving to New Year's makes me want to vomit. I haven't heard any Christmas music yet, I have a feeling I'm going to break someone's face when I do.

Speaking of breaking people's faces, when I got home from work last night and took the paper off the bathroom, I discovered that those assholes didn't do the floor. So now I'm going to have to get these cocksuckers back over here AGAIN to do the fucking floor like I fucking paid them to do, which means I'm going to be out of a bathroom AGAIN for two fucking days.

Fuck this shit. No, really. Fuck this shit.