Odd evening. I am still standing on the fence as to whether it was bad or good. Odd event number 1: I catch a ride home with Joe. He's been really antisocial recently and never wants to do anything but go straight home. I'm safe, right? "Hey, Clayton... let's stop for a beer." A couple of tanker trucks of beer later, I am home. What the hell happened to this guy? Odd event number 2: Phone call with incredible sexy (and most recent) ex-girlfriend. Our relationship ended in the twilight zone and she is the last person (other than someone already dead) that I expected to hear on the other end of the phone. We have a pseudo-date scheduled... friends, but probably friends still in the twilight zone, so maybe the chemistry we had might catch innocent bystanders on fire and we'll both go to prison for involuntary manslaughter. How did this all happen? I just wanted to do some laundry and pass out on the couch finishing the movie I started last night that I had to stop because if I struggled through another single minute of it, I would slit my wrists... with a chainsaw.
I am no longer buzzed. I have no desire to watch (finish) the movie. I need to by a video tape tomorrow. I am not sure how to take this evening's stirring the pot of my past. Breath. Sleep. Tomorrow, it will be okay.
Okay!
Skits just helped me finish moving all my stuff into
Bloggerville. I'm living with some cool
cats over in Blogger 8 at
Number 6 Sim Lane (not #2). Being the geek that I am, I was the first to start blogging after the move.
Jessica and I rolled downtown for some shopping and we both ended up in our undies in the middle of the store...
DOH! Speaking of undies... of course,
Hoopty shows up to the housewarming in boxers! You just can't take that guy anywhere...
Anyhoo, it's good fun... go check it out.
It's a full on attack. I have spent the last six months letting all the fluorescent bulbs in my office burn out. It seems the war is on between me and facilities services. They will NOT replace my bulbs. Natural light from my wall of windows is good enough for me. I have to admit though, digging tiger pits in office interior flooring and sharpening punji sticks with letter openers and scissors feels kinda weird... but they'll be sorry they tried to change my lights dammit... they'll be sorry.
Prescription vibrators?
Aphrodisiac nasal spray?
Vibrating office supplies? What rock have I been living under?
My afternoon has reached its low point. As cliché as it is, the right hand of my department truly doesn't know what the left hand is doing... and I am just the dick in the middle that has to fuck with both hands (no pun intended). I have spent the better part of my afternoon working on a problem that was aggravated by a team of people half way across the country working the same problem. The issue lies in it being their problem to begin with and I was only working on because there is this little knee jerk reaction that happens when executive staff snap their fingers. I little ripple of perceived urgency flows down hill until it puddles outside my office. I am going to the bathroom and ritualistically washing my hands of this clusterfuck and going outside to get some sun... and maybe jump into moving traffic.
Lunch with a business associate and good friend started as catch-up small talk and leisurely antiprofessional conversation, but soon spiraled into business plans and researching technology. I am always thinking. I think too much. There is a huge motorcade outside my window. The Secretary of Energy is across the street selling Girl Scout cookies or something. I want a motorcade... it's on my list right after my own groupies, my own roadies, and my own theme band.
Joe and I had a sobering discussion on the way to work. There are rumors flying around about more layoffs in my company. I am in a fairly vital position and not terribly concerned, but when you hear these things it gets you thinking. The high end/enterprise level networking industry is not doing well in Houston right now. If anything were to happen to my employment status, there's a good chance I would have to move to find comparable work (read: salary). Which started me thinking. I'm single with no children. I could live anywhere in the world. Where would I go? Realistically, this has a lot to do with work, but if the employment prospects were equal in all places non-Houston, I think I would really have a hard time narrowing my list. The world is so big and we are here for such a short period of time. It's a shame, really.
The night is young and I'm not ready for the weekend to slip away. I think I could be content doing this same
nothing for a few more days.
Nothing can be good sometimes. Every now and then it's good to say
nothing... do
nothing... enjoy
nothing... just like I am enjoying absolutely
nothing about this instant. Perhaps the only thing about Monday that is worse than Monday is the anticipation of Monday. Put that in your pipe and
smoke it.
"Unheard Music" - Brian Andreas
Don't you hear it? she
asked & I shook my head
no & then she started to
dance & suddenly there
was music everywhere &
it went on for a very long
time & when I finally
found words all I could
say was thank you.
In honorable continuation of my weekend hiding out, I just watched
The Shipping News. I was pleasantly surprised. Éclair is in a great mood because she spent most of the weekend swimming. I hate the fact that tomorrow equals Monday and it smells terribly like work.
Flavie will be in town Wednesday. I have searched my emotions in an attempt to define how I feel about seeing her again for the first time in eight months. I know concretely that I am comfortable with her as a friend and that it ends there... there are absolutely zero residual romantic feelings. I didn't think there would be, but it's comforting to know for sure. Her move back to Paris is delayed and she is picking up some things from storage. Thankfully, I'll be in Vegas for the weekend. There are certain aspects of my life today that I would change that change were within my power, but when it comes to she and I... I'm glad that we are nothing more than friends.
I have a (fucking) potty mouth (dammit). I stopped at the
devil's house on the way back from the grocery store for my afternoon fix and noticed they installed a wheelchair accessible table for handicap patrons. I think this is a great idea and more stores should do it. However, rarely does what I think mean much in the grand scheme of things. I should be in Austin right now getting ready for the
show, but I just couldn't make it. I have been busy sorting out things here at home. My life has found some personal chaos in the last week. Someone who I have a great respect for told me a few days ago that I needed someone in my life to keep me grounded or I would float away. Have you ever read a piece of literature and walked away from it knowing it has meaning that is obvious to the most casual observer and meaning that is elusive and coy and dancing just beyond your comprehension... a meaning that you only grasp after a few days of marination and dissection? That simple and somewhat cliché remark struck my consciousness with a harmonizing chord. Maybe he said it jovially and in passing without giving it a second thought. Maybe he didn't. Either way, it resurfaces periodically in my daily hoo-ha soup and I wonder each time. Unfortunately, the chaos I speak of orbits material attachment to my past in Virginia Beach and not something so enlighteningly fun as sociopsychobabble. It would be a good topic conversation over soft music and a full bodied, dry merlot none the less, but talking to myself isn't as fun as it used to be.
bloody hilarious...
I really need to learn flash like I need monkies flying out of my butt. I can see it now... corny flash productions consuming my every waking hour. That one was cute though... I dig it.
(link courtesy of
melly)
Him: allumé
Her: brouter le cresson
Him: cette putain de machine
Her: dans les vignes du Seigneur
Him: Enlève ta croute que je swingue dans l'pus
Her: foutre
Him: godemichet
Her: jouir
Him: keuf
Her: livrer aux chiens
Him: ménage a trois
Her: noune
Him: oignon
Her: Faire une pipe
Him: queue
Her: "let's go!"
Him: se palucher
Her: Oh, vous, les mecs, vous tirez votre coup, et vous vous foutez du reste
Him: viande a pneus
Her: Y'a non du monde au balcon
Him: étron
I cooked. I like to cook... I just always make a mess. I'm not a messy person, but I get wrapped up in the act of cooking and don't do the clean-as-you-go thing. So, as I was eating lunch, I watched the last third or so of
Brokedown Palace on
Lifetime. It's been some time since I watched it and I'd forgotten how the ending went. Really makes ya wanna visit Thailand, eh? I think I'll take a bag with lots of zipper pockets for easy set-up. Yeah, that's it. Where is this day going?
I am craving a big, fat, juicy cheeseburger.
I absolutely hate it when they bum up your expense reports. They being 'da man' of course. It was just a few weeks ago that I had to pay a little over 200 bones out of my own pocket to bring my Corp AMEX current and float my company so that I could continue on a business trip. I filed another $430.00 or so last week that was not reimbursed this pay period. I have a grand or so in business travel on my AMEX, but I don't care so much about that as the shiznit I pay out of pocket. That's the stuff that really stings when they can't seem to process in a timely manner. Workin' for da man. Which reminds me of something I obviously thought inconsequential last night, but am reminded of this morning as I go through my finances. Both those guys I met from out of state that were here on business did the exact same thing... first they offered to hire me (assuring that they could pay me more that "whatever I was making") and when I politely turned them down, they both started preaching to me about my communication skills and intelligence and how I needed to start my own company. Now, I understand that bar talk is bar talk and people say things when they are under the alcofluence of infahol that they may not normally be inclined to say, but don't you think that is a little odd considering we just met and they nothing about me? I just chalk it up to drunken bullshit, but sometimes it's the little things like that that get you thinking. Workin' for da man... da nub.
Here's to actually goin' to bed at 6:15 a.m.
Nub.
