My autobiography will be far more interesting than the rest of this entry. Please, keep expectations low, or just skip it entirely. Lately I've been using my journal as an actual journal, especially on Mondays. Sorry. I am allowed, though, you know.
On Friday I went to Ott's (the bar) after work. It was fine when we got there, but the sky turned green and the wind removed a sun umbrella or two from the deck, and lightning seared the sky. I mentioned the day two years ago, at Applebee's, feeding ourselves so that we could load up my new couch from the Thrift for AIDS store on South Street. On that day, as on Friday, I was eating a grilled chicken Caesar salad, and the power went out. Friday, as then, the power went out. But this time it only flickered.
I had two drinks, then raced home to get ready. I raced to Mitch's to hang out. Spend some quality time. He had been sick, he said. Poor kid. Then Culann and I went to Hal's to meet up with the rest of the crew for Hal's birthday, then on to La Martinique, the French bowling alley. I drank whiskey poured from a Poland Spring bottle, because I'm that hardcore. I bowled terribly. We went to Timber Ridge for a while. It's a blur. I drove Hal and Gina home.
Saturday was a high holiday for me (har!). Mitch and I smoked a few times and had KFC and went to Target to look at filing cabinets and watched some really interesting shows on exploring Antarctica and discovering the south pole, and then I went home to get ready to go out. Do you know that the last time I did laundry was Easter weekend, at my parents' house? Do you know that I have not yet hung up my clothes from then? They lie in toppled piles on my bedroom floor. Which MEANS that my laundry basket and bag are being used to hold (sort of) the clean clothes, which MEANS that my dirties are lying in a MOUND on my bedroom floor. I do believe that I am criminally lazy. Somebody please shoot me.
This situation makes it difficult for me to find things to wear.
Michelle and Kimliss and I went to dinner. See I DO have girl friends, I do. We went to the Nodding Head, in Philadelphia. It was good. I must remember, though, to stop ordering filet mignon at not-obscenely-expensive restaurants, because they always come out only all right, and I may as well order a strip steak or something more interesting. Michelle and I had brie for an appemetizer. I'd never had it before. It was good, though I don't really see what all the fuss is about.
We were at a table all the way in the back. I sat with my back to the restaurant, so that I could look at the painting hanging over my girls' heads. It was painted from the perspective of a bartender. I should be a bartender again. I would make lots of money and meet people and feel productive, and then eventually I could quit my real job and have my days FREE! To write children's books, apparently.
We talked about everything, the three of us. Kim has the Cutest Boyfriend Ever, and she thinks he's finally bought her a ring, finally. They're moving to Baltimore. She's going to be a doctor soon! She'll have a PharmD! How awesome is THAT? I have a friend who's a doctor! Do you?
We came back to my house and -- oh, and I drove, and I was all self-conscious of my music. I realize I listen to weird music these days. It's because I don't need to be cool, it's because I'm out of touch, and also it's because I usually only listen to music when I'm hanging out, or in my car, or cooking or cleaning. And all of those situations require upbeat, bouncy music, preferably that one can sing along too. So my tastes run pretty poppy these days. I'm actually considering purchasing the new Robbie Williams album. But don't tell anyone I said that.
We came back to my house and talked for a while longer. Henry bit everyone once or twice, though Michelle said that "you can tell he loves you," which was weird, but also kind of . . . reassuring. I mean, he's a psychotic motherfucker and everyone tells me I should get rid of him, but goddammit, he's a psychotic motherfucker who LOVES me, and that's more than I can say of you.
Then the three of us made out, right in front of my webcam. It's too bad you guys missed it, it was some hot shit.
Kim left, but Michelle stayed, and I put new (pink) sheets on the living room bed for her. Henry jumped underneath the fitted sheet while I was making it, and I wrestled with him like that for a while. He looked like a monster.
The next morning Michelle left early, to get going on her laundry. I went to the diner with Mitch and Culann and Carolyn for breakfast. The bacon at the diner used to never be good, but now it is ALWAYS good ALWAYS, yum, bacon. Both Mitch and Carolyn suddenly didn't feel well and didn't feel like eating; they both had iced teas, so maybe it was the lemons? I wished that they put garlic powder on the hash browns because I did that the other night and I really, really liked it.
We watched the Sixers LOSE for a half, and then Mitch and I got bored/frustrated/high and tried to put a puzzle together instead. It's really really hard. Then I had to go home and bake a crumb cake, which of course I didn't get started on for a million years. Man, raw crumb cake batter freaking rocks. Sunday night tv sucks. Sleeping is like THE best thing in the world and it was SO hard to get up this morning and SO hard to make Mitch get up and I was fifteen minutes late getting in to work.