Today, I realized that getting robbed of my coming out means that all my would-be debutante bitterness is going to come out when I’m planning my wedding, and oh, the dress I will have.
Today sucks, and here is why:
1. I got about four hours of sleep in a room that is roughly as warm as a Soviet gulag.
2. I woke up ten minutes before I had to go to acting, and got to warm up by playing eight different kinds of tag (which I usually enjoy, as it tends to turn into a giant game of grabass, and if there is a better way to wake up than that I sure hope you’ll let me know) without any form of caffeine in my body. If you know me even a little, you know how lame this is.
3. On the way out of acting, I slammed the fuck out of my knee on the corner of a chair. Thirty seconds later I found myself on the floor of the Shafer Street Playhouse with blurry vision, wicked nausea, and an inner ear problem. Who knew knees had nerve endings?
4. When I got my bearings back, I decided to skip getting a bagel and checking the call board so I could just get back in bed. As I was walking down Harrison St., a car skidded into the puddle on the street next to me. Cold and wet was one thing; cold and so wet there is not a square inch of your body that is dry is quite another. Have I yet mentioned we’re in the middle of a noreaster? And that the wind chill is in the thirties?
5. Apparently, they’re getting it even worse back in Norfolk…the first floor of my condo complex is almost completely under water. I am supposed to go back home for the weekend tomorrow. Reeeeeal classy, 757.
6. I just touched the knee I hit and nearly whited out. Goddamnit.
7. I’m ushering for Ain’t Misbehavin’ tonight, meaning I have to take a shower and make myself presentable to society. I neither have shampoo nor the money to buy it. Dresses will also be involved, and since I can’t drive in this shit, I have to walk to PAC and back.
Hey, November. You kind of need to stop sucking and snap to.
On a less complainy note: I am not one to quote myself, but this happened earlier, and I feel like I’d be remiss if I didn’t mark this down. I have never said anything more college student-like…
P: I think I’m just gonna stay in bed and drink.
P: I’m not an alcoholic, I’m just sad. Oh…oh God.
Old Tom Waits makes me want to wear a cowboy hat, drink whiskey, and cry.