Unclogging the drains

Sorry for the suddenly flurry of blog posts. The term “half-assed” would seem to apply to the last four days. I would start an entry, get partway through, and then get distracted by yet another attempt to clear my Shit That Really Needs to Get Done list for the weekend. Unfortunately that list is still entirely too long. (Still to do: two term papers and an essay final, laundry, end-of-summer cleaning, and paying bills)

I even made the foolish mistake of setting aside the textbooks for three hours Saturday night so I could run a heroic instance in WoW. Yes, you’re entirely right. I have no room to complain. Trust me, I don’t expect sympathy. Feel free to chuck rocks instead. I like pain. Mmmm.

Stumbling Around SF

In a few weeks I will be attending the bachelorette party for Cousin Juls, inconveniently held in San Francisco of all places. Mind you, I do so enjoy a night in the city, dancing with all my gays. In a world where straight men frequently add me to their list of “Fat Mental Cases I Will Never Date”, the gays will always consider me beautiful and perfectly sane and grind up on me all night. They will also compliment my mind-blowingly awesome 4-inch chunky-heeled silver peep-toe shoes that I favor for my SF activities. (don’t worry, I’m not getting girly on y’all; these are TUKs, which are far more goth-chic than they sound)

Any night spent in SF inevitably ends up a whirlwind of alcohol, cigarettes, the occasional illicit substance, and quite possibly a 3am round of banana-Nutella crèpes on Polk Ave. I’m up for it I suppose but I don’t have nearly the level of alcohol tolerance that my cousins all do. I know, you’d think someone my size would be able to drink all those skinny blondes right under the table. However, my life is bad enough without the constant threat of a drunken stupor, so I refrain most of the time. Which sucks for me because at the clubs, there are any number of really awful drunk guys who come over to pick up on one of the cousins, and being closer to sober than the rest, I find a greater irritation to the inebriated antics of others. (yeah, I have to say, being sober while others are drunk is a real eye-opener. You realize how ridiculously drunk people act and just how truly irritating that is) Which can sometimes backfire on me because it causes me to drink more so I’m closer to everyone else’s state of mind and things like shitfaced morons become infinitely less annoying…and then it’s 2am, the bars are closing, and I’m drunk-dialing Coworker Sean to give him explicit details of exactly what we’ve done all night, including things that probably shouldn’t be said on a company voice mail system lest I feel like being unexpectedly fired one day. Of course, he loves to play those back for me come Monday morning. How embarrassing.

Debating buying yet another digital camera for this whole bachelorette party experience, since my newest camera that I love in very dirty, very unladylike ways is too large to really be toting around the nightclubs with me. Haven’t yet sold off the Sony, and it’s the perfect size, but being that these will all be indoor night shots, I know they would just be all jacked to shit. So if anyone has a recommendation for a good inexpensive (nothing over, say, $300) compact or ultra-compact digital camera, I’m all ears.

Becoming a Window Poet

Having an office that overlooks a lovely tree-filled courtyard has its distinct disadvantages. The greatest being that I cannot stop pausing to stare out at the giant green-leafed tree parked directly in my line of sight. (I’m in the process of identifying the tree; at first glance it looks like a California sycamore, but the bark is all wrong) It was better being stuck in a room in the middle of the building where the only distraction I had to contend with was internet access. Now it’s all I can do to keep focused every time a bird flies by (I’m two stories up), the wind blows, or the weather changes. I’m starting to wish that I had been given an office that overlooked the atrium (the center of our building is nothing but a giant indoor atrium) since the likelihood of me pausing my work to watch my coworkers do stupid pet tricks in the presence of five floors worth of office windows is slim-to-none.

Happy Tuesday, folks. The week only gets longer from here.