i drank a lot last night.

according to jenn daly i came home very drunk and leaned in her bedroom doorway and decided to tell her what i saw.

"laying there. in bed. you look just like. an african princess."

this might not seem like an unusual thing to say to someone.

but jenn's not black.

arghhh!

so i have this kind of twisted fantasy where some one i know of, but have never met walks onto my plane. they also know of me but have never met me. anyway, they walk onto my plane and i give them a piece of my mind and say "you're a douche."
or something to that extent.

last night i have this dream, and they are totally on my plane or maybe in my restaurant and i am talking to them and totally am about to lay into them but i decide that i better make sure it's the right person and ask them for their last name....and it's the wrong last name. and then they shape-shift into something totally different, and my moment is lost.

ugh.

the ex-factor.

the smoke detector battery has FINALLY been replaced!

i just had lunch with my college boyfriend. and it was nice to sit there and laugh and be able to still see everything that made me force him to go out with me 12 years ago.
his girlfriend is a really lucky woman.

but then again, so am i.

i'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming.

anyway, i had this dream last night. or the night before. i posted this in someone's comments, then copied and pasted. so everytime you see the word "you" not in quotes imagine the name "nicole". i apparently dream about "nicole" a lot. ok, here goes:

so i had this dream last night (does this sound familiar?) and it's a two parter.
part one: i cut open my finger and i kept bleeding and someone says to me "how do you get off like that?" and you say "you can always use a water pick" and i say "highly overrated."
weird. then, later. i am at your house. i show up i don't know why and i am tired and disshevelled and i fall asleep on the ottoman. in the morning you wake me up and people are drinking wine and i go to the bathroom to put on my jordache jeans and you knock and say that you have a paper t-shirt and a diaper if i need it. i wonder why you are telling me this. then i realize that i must have like...menstruated all over your ottoman. but i look in my underwear and i swear to you that it was not me. that i was not menstruating. then i realize that the same thing had happened the last time i stayed at your place, and i wasn't really sure what to say for myself. i mean...i knew i didn't do it. but i really couldn't prove that.

it will congeal?

just moments ago i sliced open my thumb and index finger as i was washing the dishes. a glass broke into 3 pieces in my hand the moment i put the sponge inside it.
it seems as though i definitely could use a few stitches...but it's 3:30 in the morning. i'm by myself. and i have no idea where the nearest hospital is.
my bandaids are starting to get a little soggy.
but i think i'm going to try to sleep on it until day light, and hope that the blood decides to go someplace else in my body.

msg. a love story

i just put down the chopsticks and picked up a spoon so that i could scoop all of the little bits of ramen that are left at the bottom of the bowl. my love affair with msg will never die.
in the past 30 years it has only done me wrong a handful of times. and that's not enough to end our relationship.
she's so good to me when i'm not drinking.

when i got back from austin 5 days ago i noticed that the smoke detector in the hallway outside of my apartment needed a new battery. it beeped approximately every 3-5 minutes. well...now it's 5 days later and it is still beeping. what i don't understand is that the landlady lives upstairs. i haven't been here for the past 4 days. but i'm sure she has and i wonder how it hasn't driven her absolutely insane.

i feel that as the months go by my pms is getting worse and worse.
i had to turn off the tv this morning because the movie "flicka" wasn't giving me a chance to stop crying so i could put on eye makeup. why the hell anyone would ever want to come between a girl and her horse is beyond me. it was bad. "it's ok daddy. you can shoot us." that was actually a line in the movie.
i totally lost my shit.

bongiorno out on work stuff i have the next 2.5 weeks to myself when i'm in town. i think i just cut my finger on a potato chip.

sodium levels are soaring here. god help me.

jealous bitch

as i rolled over and saw girlface i found comfort in the fact that i couldn't possibly be the only one in the room that felt like absolute death. i know that she was humouring me by agreeing that a bottle of jealous bitch on the rooftop was the way to go, ending her 7 month stint with sobriety. how either of us thought that it could have ended well is beyond me. she said it wasn't because i was a bad influence, which i guess was enough for the both of us.
the skeezy neighbor was letting out his hired hand as we were coming down from the roof. calling ali by the wrong name only prolonged the awkward moment where we all knew what was going on. moments later he knocks with a consolation prize. a small baggie of weed that al held it in her hand asking "can i smoke this?"
that should have been at least one red flag. maybe the next would have been the claim that i would rather be sodomized than walk three blocks for a cheaper pack of cigarettes. that being said we simply crossed the street for gucci cigarettes and two highly priced beers only to find a bottle of wine from the neighbor on the welcome matt. flag number three might have been "i should ask him if he has any coke."
back on the roof with wine, weed and outrageously priced cigarettes the camera came out and the rest of the evening documented. flag number four would have been my sudden need to moon the camera.
some people would be pleased to know that jealous bitch is going to give the gato negro (gato oh-no) a run for it's money.
so here we are this morning. head's pounding.
i look at ali and she mutters "glad i got that out of my system."
yeah. me too.
hey, al, can you see my buttcrack?

how 'bout now?

slots a fun

my shabby greek isles hotel room in las vegas was everything i needed to make my experience complete. this place stopped ticking somewhere in the 70s, i'm sure. they might have made it until 85, but that would be a stretch.

they have a rat pack tribute show and flyers advertising their nightly karaoke sessions that are simple color photo copies. and clip art. karaoke everynight except the night i was there, which they refered to as "dark wednesday."

the roomservice menu is black and white photo copy on legal size paper in a plastic cover thing. they have an excellent pool. i do not need to gamble.

salt lake city is hot and dry. when i turned the tv to hbo Big Love was starting, which i found wildly appropriate. but what i love best about this particular labor day weekend at the salt lake city sheraton city centre is that there is an adolescent roll playing convention going on. it is truly incredible. all the young boys and girls walking around in their misfit t-shirts and samurai swords. there are signs everywhere informing attendees that real weapons may not be brought into the conference, and that all large bags and weapons must be checked at the security desk. there is somebody here in an excellent optimus-prime costume. lots of glasses. lots of long stringy hair on boys that i'm sure are really good at math. there are also the roll playing sluts, which are easily identified by their short skirts and knee high socks. there aren't many, but they are here, and i tell you what, they are a gamer's wet dream, i'm sure. in the dealer's room they are selling romulade. which seems to be some kind of lemonade beverage marketed to just this kind of crowd. endless hours of entertainment and people watching. i wonder how many of these kids are mormons. i wonder if they would be disappointed if they showed up at "dark wednesday" at greek isles and found out that it just meant no singing. their parents keep dropping them off in their mini vans.

i just really feel that there wasn't a venue for this kind of thing when i was growing up. was there? if there was, i feel seriously jipped. all i had was band camp.

i am in no way trying to dis band camp. they were the best times of my life. but i just feel like there should have been more.