2006-05-11 @ 9:50 a.m.
The main question last night was: Do I want to drive back into town to go draw naked people or do I want to stay home and take a nice long walk on a warm Spring night on what will be the last day without rain for the next five days and then watch a DVD entitled “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill” after a really crappy day at work?
Guess which one I picked? Go ahead guess!
I have been walking a lot this last week. I’ve probably already walked about 8-9 miles this week. Its a calming thing for me. It gives me time to
I really needed a cookie about work yesterday though. Here it was a stunning Spring Day, and I had been trapped in a tiny, airless room with a bunch of, okay I can’t really talk about it, but, gah! Lets just say that the Whine-lympics are over and the events included the Poor Me, the My Life is Worse than Yours, the Its Not My Fault, and the I’m Giving witty a Headache and Should be Severely Punished. I realize I'm supposed to be supportive of our clients, but I was sitting there, looking down in my lap, going “How does “A” do this all day? Its so painful.” It was also really bringing me down.
Plus I kept smelling this weird chemical smell and I was like, gee, I wonder if they’re using some new cleaning stuff in the building? And then I even asked my co-facilitator if she smelled anything and she looked at me like she always does...in pained disbelief that she has to work with such a cool person...and shook her head. And yet there it was....that weird chemical smell. And it seemed to follow me too...like EVERYWHERE...in the bathroom...in my cubical..in my....
Hey dorkbrain. Did you ever think the smell might be on you? Since remember last night when you were out SPRAYING the entire length of your apartment building with that 300 gallon mega can of TRIPLE XXX -DEATH TO ALL SPIDERS- THIS WILL KILL YOUR BRAIN CELLS AND CHANGE YOUR ENTIRE DNA FOR THREE GENERATIONS AND GIVE YOUR KIDS THREE ARMS- SUPER SPIDER KILLING AGENT? Yeah. That stuff. Well, weren’t you were spraying that directly OVER your head for like 10 solid minutes? Well, that’s what you’re smelling on your dress and hair. And then once I realized that, I totally freaked out, thinking I was probably going to die from inhaling toxic chemicals. But I had to keep my cool, of course, because I was in a room full of our clients. Oy.
But the walk over to Hamburger Island was pleasant. Saw the usual number of
Yeah, I guess I was just thinking about the fact that I had seen him over the weekend. Not in any official capacity. Just at the mall waiting for his kids. And that always starts the dreams up again. And I had just had a particularly gruesome one where I managed to cram all my neurosis into one huge epic mini-series of a dream, which included my anxiety about seeing his wife at my upcoming art show and her possible sarcastic reaction to my artwork and him seeing me but not talking to me while I’m reluctantly sharing dinner with him (a recurring theme) and me being embarrassed by bringing my art to the show and suddenly realizing the theme was something like Spanish velvet matador paintings when I have a bunch of nude rock star paintings and then finally me buying a George W. Bush t-shirt with an American flag on it from some kiosk! My God, what did I eat before I went to bed?
So as you can see, I just don’t have enough hours in the day for all my neurosis to process, so sometimes they spill over into my sleep as well. So my walk went well. It was wacko though. Usually I do a big loop, but last night I was going up and down several streets, turning corners, generally acting like I had just huffed a large can of spider bug spray. But it was enjoyable, as was the documentary “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill.” Not only was it good to see San Francisco, where I used to work, but it was also fascinating to see how much personality the birds had and how dedicated Mark Bittner, the man the documentary was about, was. Also the woman film maker who made the film ended up in a relationship with him. Can you imagine? Meeting a chick when they’re filming a documentary about you?
So see, that’s what I need. Someone to make a film about me, you know, like maybe “One Flew Over the witty’s Nest” or “Blazing witties”, if for no other reason, than, you know, to get a date. Because what could be better than not having to write some inane profile for Match.com?
Heh. I knew there was a reason to be
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty