Deflated is the word for the day. You know what I'm talking about, that one phone call, that one costumer, that one person who's having the worst day in the world and takes it all out on you? I got nailed with that dagger 5 minutes into my work day today. I can already tell it'll be the black cloud following me around until I leave the office. People are just, well, they can be, so cruel. They can manipulate their words just so, to make you feel terrible and them feel completely right. And when all you want to do in the world is smash their face through a wall, you have to be polite and respectful. so, of course, you start shaking with anger and anxiety because it's all your body can do, and that stays with you for about 5 hours.

All I want in the world is a cupcake.

In other work-related blog-friendly news, last week was internationally week (weak) of Tired. I think everyone can agree. Wednesday night I got about 5 hours of sleep, had to be at work at 6am on Thursday, then had to report to the El Rey for bartending at 5:30. I got home at about midnight, had to get up at 5 the next morning for another fantastic 6am work call. I was by the Kimo by 7 that night for BN and didn't get home til 2:30 in the morning. My sleep schedule was so bizzerk, I could barely get any rest. Also on Friday, I managed to pull one of those 24 no eating periods, completely by accident. I ate lunch on Friday, passed out when I got home from work, woke up with just enough time to get to the Kimo then went over to Cari's and didn't feel like braving Valley drive-thru's. By the time I left, I was so tired and dilerious, I just went home. I woke up at about 5 in the morning with really bad hunger pains, but was terrified of going downstairs to make food because some of Maria's fmaily was sleeping soundly on our couch. So, I didn't eat until mashed potatoes and chicken strips time at Churchs almost exactly 24 hours after that lunch.

That was a really long, drawn out explanation that basically, I've been tired and hungry the last few days. I'm actually quite sorry if you read that.

Demo starts in the G-Dub tomorrow, so Marky, Kyle and myself spent one last afternoon in the ruins, saying a final goodbye to the old girl. We threw bricks at pigeons and drank Smithwicks. It's been exactly two months and of course, internet and Alibi hatred is still running rampid. And I'm still taking it personally.

But you know,



It makes sense.

She's an honest defector.

It's been quite a while since I've been excited about sports. It's a rare thing. Buuuut...

GO HABS GO!

(Constable Yannick Ouimet, by the way...)

The small village of Ste. Croix Quebec is so excited, it is actually defrosting. I am sure. I am also sure that my petite cousin Mariane is just completely losing her mind (and probably her GPA) because she can't contain her excitement. She cares more about the Montreal Canadiens than I care about Six Feet Under. And that's saying a lot. I watched just a regular season game with her when I was visiting and it put every ounce of passion in my body to shame.

So, I'll be watching a lot of hockey this week and pretending to be in my cousin Rene's living room, cheering along with Mariane. I'll be there in spirit.

And since we're talking about Six Feet Under... it rules. Hastings has seasons on sale for $25, knocked down from $50, and it's taking everything in my power to not buy them all. I bought Season One and watched it in 2 days.

Trips I am taking:

June 6: Vegas, baby. My 24th birthday, Miss Exotic World, and possibly the Sex Pistols reunion (not lying).

July 19: Denver for Mile High Music Fest, but really just for Tom Petty.

Trip I REALLY want to take:

August 13: Back to NYC for 5 RANCID SHOWS 5 NIGHTS IN A ROW. It would also be nice to go back to the MOMA for Dali: Painting and Film.

I've been seen with worse.

I feel like I should blog, even though I don't have much to say. Life is grinding along and I'm feeling the pull of a 40 hour work week, even though it's more like 50 with the bar on top of it. I guess I'd really forgotten how exhausting it is, even if you're just sitting down for 80% of it.

However, this week is pure brutality, as I had to be at office at 6 this morning, have to be at the bar by 5, probably won't get off til after midnight, then do it all over again tomorrow. This weekend will be sleepy-time.

Working is far more tiresome than driving to a new state everyday. I think that says a lot about what I would rather be doing, though.

EVEN THOUGH I can't blog about my job, I want to tell you that there are still people who believe global warming is a hoax.

Who watches the Watchmen?

My trip was as grand as it could have been, only a little short. Highlights included:

-Grandma's new storm celler. New Mexico, getchoo some twisters so I can have one.

-Getting Gas in Amarillo at the Toot n Totum. I saw 6 whole black people outside. Shock insued. Last time I checked, Texas was still holding minorities in pins at the border.

-Witnessing quite possibly the best Last Day of Employment festivites ever. Matt's old manager at Pac Sun quit his job and to celebrate got stinking drunk. At work. I watched him kick down entire merchandise racks, rip board shorts to shreds, throw a $2,000 mannequin at a power flush toilet (breaking both), scream at old people, play Welsey Willis's imortal working class anthem "Take This Job and Shove It" through the store PA, and finally, after removing his name tag, pull a pint in a paper bag out of his back pocket and start drinking right in the middle of the store. Motivational is the choice adjective.

-Saw Saves the Day and felt about 16 for a few songs. The Bud Light in my hand threw me back into reality.

-Ate biscuits and gravy. Do this as often as possible when you're in the South. (Okay, so Oklahoma's not the SOUTH south, but it's southern enough.)

-Rancid saves. Always has, always will. Little rays of sound sunshine from my iPod.

I feel not so much better, but more confident I'm getting a grip on all this. I guess that was really what I was looking for, a bit of control. Everytime I visit OK, I get these amazingly strong impulses to start over and move out there. So, here they are again.

I AM THE TAX MASTA. On top of filing mine and my mom's, I helped Maria with hers last night. It took fordamnever, but we eventually got it. And she's getting a lot of money. To celebrate, we're going to Tucanos sometime soon.

Like a sign from sweet little 8 pound, 2 ounce baby Jesus, these precious things from Okie Dokie Bassets will be ready for pick up ON MY DAMN BIRTHDAY.




So, if you want to get me the best present of my life, I'll take these two sisters and name them Buscemi and Dr. Manhattan. I think the top one's Dr. Manhattan. But, I'm also going to need a house to keep them in.

Roadblock.

I guess it's a little ridiculous to say I have a hard time dealing with sadness. I think pretty much everyone does. My mom and me have had long conversations about how it's okay to feel sad, it's pretty damn normal. Having a bum month happens to everyone. Cowboy up, deal with it. But, I can honestly say it's been a very long time since I've felt this sad.

It's like big, giant parts of my life are collasping, voids are being created and I haven't quite figured out how to fill them (or if I should). I could laundry list them, but that's not important. Doesn't make them go away. It's to the point where it's effecting me physically, which is also something that hasn't happened in a long time. I feel myself drawing inward a lot. (If you've called and I haven't called back, I really am sorry.)

I'm trying to be a Chas about it. He's got this fantastic way of taking every experience in life as exactly that, an experience, and evaluating the losses and gains. Not to say he's withdrawn emotionally, because he's far from it. But he's got this almost editorial way of accessing the situation and in the end, he always seems to come out okay. I'm trying to make myself think about it in the most rational way possible, trying to study myself from the outside.

I guess it's a little bit fascinating, all the sensations going on in my head, the way they're translating to my body and to everyone else. Just trying to make sense of it all. And mostly, trying to not numb out. I can't imagine anything worse right now.

I'm hoping some open road and a little bit of distance will grant me another perspective.

(I'm pretty sure one of these would make me feel all better.)

The loves of others.

I've been laying low recently. I haven't been staying home, wearing my Golden West shirt with my keys on my jeans and crying in the dark or anything, but I've been taking comfort in the repetition of recent life. Work makes me get up and go to bed early, which normally makes me feel a lot better, but it limits my social calendar. I'm also working most Saturday nights and I'm going out of town this weekend. Phantom Cat.

Work also brings on a domesticated Cat. But with domestication comes certain funding. After a year of couch hopping, being able to go out to dinner or go see a movie and not worry (too much) where the money is coming from, is such a fantastic feeling. I'm sure I'll enjoy it for a few months then get stir-crazy. But, the nice part about extra cash is lots more weekend trips. Like this weekend.

My grandmother's moving to Pampa this week and I'm taking the last parts of her house, mostly plants, to her in Texas. I'll also drop off some things with my dad in Tucumcari before that, but eventually make my way to Oklahoma, as I always seem to do. This however, all depends on how tired I am this week. If I do go to Norman, I get to see Saves the Day for free on Saturday. This sounds fantastic.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

March 31, 2008.

Dear Annie,


You came to me in 2003, only a month after I had moved into my house. I found you online, you were a rescue dog. Maria and I already had another dog picked out at the pound, but we saw you and instantly fell in love. You were mopey and whiney, you always have been, but we loved how much you instantly loved us, the way you crept up to us, like you were scared. But once we started petting you, I don't think you ever left.


You were always there. Constantly under my feet, wanting nothing more than to be appreciated, to make me happy. I want you to know that you succeeded fantastically. It was nearly impossible to be miserable when you were around. You made everyone around you so happy. Even when you were being irritating, I was never able to be mad at you for more than two minutes.


You're sleeping because you got sick. I know it must be confusing where ever you are, you never really understood change. You might not have been in any pain, but it was going to get worse. And there wasn't anything the doctors could do for you. So, instead of having your last months be miserable, Grandma and I decided it would be better if your life ended peacefully. I hope if nothing else makes sense, that does.


I hope you can forgive me for not being in the room when it happened. I want you to know I wanted to be there. I was planning on it. But, I just could not watch the light leave your eyes. I couldn't have that memory. And I know you never liked to be alone. But, I hope you can understand why I had to leave you alone for your last minutes. I haven't quite forgiven myself yet.


Kenneth and I buried you at my mother's house under two juniper trees. You never went there, but I think you would have loved it. You were always a hound dog and there are lots of new smells there. I hope your body can rest comfortably there.


I also hope your little puppy soul is floating high above us all and that there is a fantastic bakery in puppy heaven where you can eat all the bread you want. I hope there's lots of people around, so you're never, ever alone. Maybe you'll even be reunited with your first owner. I always liked to think she was a little old lady who passed away, leaving her family to take care of you. I hope you meet all of the other dogs I've loved in my life and even though you were always protective of me, you can make some friends.


I have a lot of hope for you Annie, I always have. You were a fantastic companion for the last 5 years and I think anyone who met you instantly felt that. I hope that I gave you a good home, a safe home, and that you enjoyed the last years of your life. I tried really hard to be a good pet owner and I think you knew that. I'll miss a lot of things about you, but I think mostly I'll just feel a big empty space in my life where you used to be. I hope you're safe and I hope you're happy.

Love, Catherine.