I was uber-spasmatic after going to watch Monty Python’s Meaning of Life at Cinema at the Square last night. I laughed my ass off non-stop, that I was crying. Gosh, good fun. I will sing the Penis Song and the Milky Way bit all weekend.
I had a few more winds left in me after the movie and a Stella and popcorn (yay, that Stella is served at the Playhouse!). I stayed up late watching more Olympics — gymnastics and swimming. Gymnastics geeks me out, and brings me back to my own personal Olympic glory (OK, nowhere near that good). But I love the uneven bars and balance beam. And I hear that Michael Phelps guy got himself another medal again. Somewhere in those moments (but thankfully after I watched USA take gymnastics gold), I fell into a peaceful deep sleep on the couch.
When I woke up this morning (switched to the bed in the middle of the night), I felt kind of really fucking crabby — in that “I-don’t-wanna” and I have a headache, possibly a starting migraine kind of way. I did sleep very, very well though (gosh, maybe I sleep better this way too), but maybe I slept too hard or too long or too deep. (hehe) Who knows. I was just comfortable and did not want to move.
After breakfast (sweet, I barely even make myself breakfast), I felt less slightly less crabby. Maybe I just had to wake up. I couldn’t get a good playlist on Esteban to jam too. Just one song after another that was taking me back to sleep mode… Seriously, how many Paul Simon and James Taylor songs can you shuffle into one 15-minute commute?
Further into my short commute to the office, I get a call from my boss asking if I’m close (almost close). Apparently, my first appointment who took the train in from New York(OK, I didn’t even know you could DO that), decided to come in first thing this morning (when I’m usually there by 8:30). It’s very difficult to function, let alone WORK, without my first coffee. It was another hour before I could even brew a pot. And I just felt a hot mess. My brain felt like scrambled eggs.
My headache thankfully subsided after my second cup. See, I don’t need medicine. Even though a co-worker offered me a Vicodin. Woah, I would seriously be all wonked out from that shit. I don’t get headaches all too often, but this was a tiny pinching sensation in the middle of my head somewhere… I can just feel it growing.
Well, it seems everyone in the blogosphere is all pumped about TGIF. I still feel like I just woke up on a Monday, even though it’s almost one in the afternoon. I guess I’m excited that it is payday. I was invited by a client to the Indians game tonight, but passed. I have an out-of-towner with me tomorrow celebrating all-things-BFF — and she’s helping me sell my condo too, which makes me also very pleased — and I need to get my shit straight at home. I have like 20 outfits all over my bed, attempting to fit the fashion to the mood (never works, went with jeans today). I intend to take my friend to Luxe for dinner. Discouragingly, they don’t take reservations for less than 6 people, so I’m hoping our late dinner hour will have OK results in speedy seating.
Things I would also like to fit in: Farmer’s Market (I have no veggies in my house, and I’m feeling deprived), sex (that’s nice for anybody’s weekend, right? I promise I will not give motor-boats to my friend’s cleavage this weekend), a loooong bike ride (PLEASE! I am feeling my legs starting to jiggle, and I need some mental clarity) and a catch-up brunch at Crocker Park with my Bumble Bee Karaoke Partner. I may or may not buy myself a new pair of jeans… hmmm, maybe I am losing weight. I was told I look really thin today, and my jeans are all hanging at the waist again.
See, my close friends know this: I get happy, I lose weight. That’s my diet plan, and I’m sticking to it.
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August 15th, 2008 at 11:25 am
Stella is forever my girl. Love Stella.
Combine that with Monty Python, that’s just awesome!
August 15th, 2008 at 11:52 am
Someone told me I looked thinner the other day. They lied.