big girls throw tantrums too

Today was one of my less than
stellar days.  I felt on for about 5 minutes, walking by myself to
meet my love, Mr. Streudalpants. Strange I should have realized that
waking up promptly at 9:30 after falling asleep after 5 am the morning
of–I fluttered my eyes awake but my lovely was ornery and nappy and
tired. I had downed several shots, patron, southern comfort and lime
(southern comfort is also the one alcohol that turns my chest flushed
and red like a good irishman). Anyhow, I tried to meditate myself and
made myself fall asleep and had this dream about Sean and A, my
ex-communicated friends. We were staying in some log cabin and I had
started some ridiculous scientific position at some place I don’t
recall, and so, she told me that she wanted me to leave. And he said,
don’t tell her that on her first day of work, to which she said,
why? Because you respect me, he said.

I woke up in a blurry haze, E having roused awake.

I ran out of E’s house in a half-crazed furor, needing to meet up with
Paul, greyhound bus boy of times before. We hung out. And this is where
the brat guilt comes in. I needed my cleanser again, L’Occitane, this
stuff made from some flower that never wilts or dies when it is cut. I
spent roughly $60 on cleanser and moisturizer/sunblock. I dig that as well
because it improves my circulation. It really really does, and I have
looked less than ragged when I use it appropriately. My belts
classically have always fallen apart. Only the strange eclectic ones
that I have never split at the eye hook. The studded ones inevitably
fall apart, too. So I spent $50 to avoid the inevitable fall apart,
which seemed like a good investment considering I am usually spending
about $30 a pop for the stupid-cheap studded one.

So I met up with E, who told me he had to go to the Nicks game and
work so he would not be coming with me to Jersey. This is where the
tantrum begins. Me, realizing that I had actually been looking forward
to having him over. So I wandered back into the dressing room, clothed
in ostrich feathers and vinyl, and thought about crying. But I didn’t.
I decided instead to just be cold, which didn’t seem to go over too
well. You know, I do understand his obligations to his work. The most
anyone really expects of me is to show up to make money getting people
drunk. I understand this. I actually have very high aspirations for
some little business ventures that shall remain nameless very shortly
in the future, which may involve shifting priorities at launch times
and such. So I understand, but I really felt like I needed to see him,
hang out with him without one of us running out..last weekend was so
nice, any part of any- repeat I could definitely handle.  So yeah,
we played pool and I was sad enough to be shaking, so pool ended up
being me succumbing to defeatist Deanna, the un-player of pool. I
starting freaking out thinking how I was in public, obviously horrible
at this activity. Generally I limit my public exposure to moments where
it’s easy to shine…that’s what the undeclared career pathers do. Or
at least I do. So yeah, me shaking made pool annoying at first. I am
really not even that terrible of a pool player, it’s just the lack of
experience makes some of the easier shots harder and some of the harder
ones easier for me.

More pool please. It would be nice to play it during the week one of these days.

Pool done. Knicks game impossible, E for another three hours, one which
one partially in a restaurant, the final seeing the less than stellar,
Meet the Fockers. I really am not a huge fan of Ben Stiller, probably
because he annoys the shit out of me most of the time. Because I feel
this way, I try to give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend he’s
funny. No one really impressed me too much in the movie except the
baby, which says a lot.

Anyways. So we parted ways, and I sauntered over the Path station, arrived safely home at 11, and here we are.

Realizing I had been a huge brat all day, I suddenly was overcome with
guilt. Ah well. I do understand and have my own ways of coping so all’s
well that ends well. The cleanser I still feel guilt about (I owe a lot
to my electricity) but it lasts 6-8 months so whatever. The belt was an
investment and I really needed it. My butt has shrunk severely
so I need the smaller circumference these days. Eh. I still feel weird.
B was in my apartment, prepared and housing Rex, the
kitty. The kitty swatted at the dog, and they both ran off.

And on and on and on and on. At least the L’Occitane made my hands warmer. And lastly, at least I am not a super brat everyday.

Off to watch Out Cold.

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