Wednesday…

I’m still not sure how I feel about my last post.  I feel stupid for writing the things that I did.  I feel stupid for not just enjoying the ride that I am on.  I feel like I should just shut up and stop whining.

It’s 2:30 right now and I’m not in bed because when I get up, it will be time to go to work and everything seems to be worse at work.

The best part about this insane depression is that I constantly feel like I’m getting sick.  The light bothers my eyes.  My head hurts.  I feel groggy.  My stomach has been a mess for more than a week.  And yet, I’ve been dealing with this long enough to know that it’s nothing some patience, light and a change in the seasons won’t fix.  It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to remember that.  Sometimes it seems like the fog will never lift.  Sometimes I just want to crawl into bed and never come out.

And so I hold my breath.

Literally.

I  have to tell myself to breathe.  To take a deep breath.  Hold it and then let it out.  Rinse and repeat.  When I forget to breath the fog seems to grow thicker.  And when the fog grows thicker the light disappears.  And when the light disappears so does the hope that the fog will lift.  A person can’t live without hope.  It’s the thing that keeps us going.

Checking In.

I’ve been missing in action.  If I’ve worried you, I’m sorry.

I always get depressed after the holidays and this year it seems to be worse than usual.  Couple that with the fact that I’ve actually started dating someone, which I hate, and add to that mix the reality that my cash cow at the restaurant has imploded.  And all this has left me a mess.

First the depression.

I’ve always gotten depressed after the holidays.  I’m not sure if it’s related to the holidays or not.  I don’t know if it’s because I know that we are now locked into the winter weather for the next couple of months without a break.  I don’t know if it’s the lack of sun.  I have never been able to figure it out.  It is a reality that I have learned to deal with.  So this year I’m doing a little more hibernating when I’m home than usual.  I find myself wandering around my apartment at a loss for things to do.  I can’t focus on the computer so I haven’t been catching up with my friends in the blog world.  I can’t focus on TV so I am weeks behind in my DVR’d shows.  I try reading and that only makes things worse.  I started working on updating my professional website but I can’t work at it for more than 30 minutes or so at a time without wanting to jump out of my skin.  And so I’ve been just trying to wait out the depression, knowing it will lift soon enough.

The restaurant.  The recession has hit us hard at work.  According to management we are down thousands of dollars each day compared to last year.  There is very little business.  We have about 85% less staff on each night than before the holidays.  Some nights people are cut from work before they even start.  As for the schedule, there are people who aren’t being scheduled at all.  Even more get only one shift per week.  I’ve gone from five to three and I count myself lucky.  Unfortunately, when I am there I find myself standing around waiting for tables that don’t come in.  Luckily I had a good weekend, so I was able to pay my rent on time.  I’d already warned Chuck that I might be a few days late.  And the scary part is that February is traditionally slower than January, which means we are all going to be homeless by March 1.  I’ve already started saving up card board boxes to live in, in case that happens.  All kidding aside, all I can do is show up for work, try to be in the best mood possible and hope the people that are coming in, tip 50%.

And last but not least…the boy.

Adam.

I’m quite smitten.

Which scares me.

I hate dating.  With a passion.  I’ve never been the type to enjoy the ride and just wait to see how it all turns out.  I have a friend who is dating four different men right now.  I don’t know how he does it.  I don’t like dating one guy, let alone four.  I’m the type of person who becomes attached too quickly and that either scares the guy a way or I realize a month from now he’s a creep and I never should have even gone on the second date with him.  Or even worse, he becomes my boyfriend even though I don’t like him and I wish he’d just go away.

So I’m dating someone.  And it makes me crazy.  And that only adds to the depression I’m already feeling.  At this point I don’t even know if I’m just experiencing the depression I’m normally feeling or depression related to the boy.

And what’s worse I can’t really talk to anyone about this because they think I’m crazy and tell me that everyone feels this way, or that I should just get over it.

The thing that I’ve discovered from the three weeks this has been going on is that I have a lot missing from my life.  And I’m quite sure that’s what’s causing the biggest part of the depression.  My life for the most part consists of working, going to the “movies” and being at home.  I don’t really do much else.  I rarely go the real movies, I never see theatre even though that’s what I do for a living.  I hardly ever see friends from grad school.  I don’t like most of the people I work with.  I love Chuck, but we don’t really socialize together.  And so when I’m not at work, the craving for a social outlet and the need to be around other people pushes me to the “movies.”

And now I have this boy that I’m smitten with.  And I don’t know what to do with myself.  I’m working two days less than I was.  I don’t want to go to the “movies” because I don’t want to spoil the chance of this new relationship working.  I don’t have the money to go out and play.  So I’m even more lost in my skin than I was before.  So I focus on the boy.  And I’m terrified that I’m going to scare him away.  I wait for his calls.  I wait to be invited over to his house.  And I feel like I’m coming off as this desperate, lonely man.  Which I guess is sort of the case.  Which scares me, because I can’t really tell if I like him, or the idea of him.  And I don’t know how to separate the two.

And the desperate part of me, makes it difficult to know if he likes me.  Which is really bullshit, because all indications point to the fact that he likes me as much as I like him.  He invited me to his birthday dinner on Sunday.  And today is his birthday, and we are spending the evening together.  And we already have a date planned for Sunday.  And we talk just about every day.  So I really have no reason to doubt that he’s interested and yet I do.  In my twisted, fucked up way, I think he’s only dating me until someone better comes along.  Or because he feels sorry for me.  Or some other stupid reason.

And intellectually I know all if this is in my head, but knowing and feeling are two very different things.

I’ve been tempted to just tell him I don’t want to see him anymore because it will ease the pressure in my head that feels like it’s going to explode at any minute.  And I don’t want to do that, but if any of you out there have ever dealt with severe depression you will know what I’m talking about and how sometimes you’ll do just about anything to make it go away.

And so I haven’t posted for the last couple of weeks because I don’t want to sound ridiculous.  And I don’t want people feeling sorry for me.  And I don’t want people telling me that everyone feels this way.  And if I say these things, or even worse write them, then it will make them real and if it turns out the things in my head are real, then depression will be even worse than it is now.

And I feel stupid even writing this stuff today.

Dining Out 101

Things Waiters Hate to Hear at the Table.

1.  Why don’t you bring water for everyone.

Not everyone is a water drinker.  And even if they are they might not want water.  And even still, if they do want water let them order it for themselves.  You’ll get waited on much faster if I don’t have to bring 10 glasses of water to the table and only three people want it.

2.  Why aren’t the prices on the menu?

I don’t fucking KNOW!!!  It’s not like I was in the corporate office this morning and said to my team…you know what let’s screw with everyone and not put the prices on the menu.  Besides, NO ONE is able to tell me why they aren’t on the menu.  And before you start, asking me the price of a drink is far different than wanting to know WHY the prices aren’t in the menu.

3.  Do you have free refills?

The only people who ask this question are Americans.  The rest of the world only wants one soda with dinner and will sometimes get upset when you give them more than one.  And the minute someone asks if the refills are free it means that by the time you get to the computer and enter their dinners, the entire table will be flagging you down for more to drink.  I’ve had people drink 8 or 9 glasses of Pepsi with dinner.  And then they wonder why they are fat.

4.  Can we have separate checks?

This will piss some people off so get ready to leave your comment.

It’s not the separate check that annoys us, it’s the manner in which it’s presented.

If you are a ten top and need 10 separate checks then you need to allow almost 15 to 20 extra minutes for the checks to be processed.  It’s not a quick thing to do.  And if you are a ten top and want separate checks then you better tell me up front.  I’m not going to try and remember who had what at the end of the meal.  I can track it from the beginning but if you are already eating dinner when you ask, you are on your own.

Don’t be pissy about it.  And for god’s sake don’t say “Can we have seprit tickits?”  It’s the same as saying we don’t want to pay one cent more than we have to, including your tip.

Do you really need separate checks or separate receipts?  I’ve done the corporate thing and very few places need a receipt that just has the things you ordered on it.  You and the company can figure out that you only had a cheeseburger and a beer.

If you are dining with friends and are afraid to just split the check down the middle when basically you’ve all had the same thing then perhaps you need new friends.  I understand there are people who go out to eat with friends and they get the salad and their friend gets the T-bone.  No you shouldn’t have to pay more.  But if you go out every week together and sometimes you get the steak and sometimes he gets the steak then say fuck it and split the check.  Or even better take turns paying.

And if by chance you don’t get separate checks and you are doing the math yourself.  IT’S NOT MOLECULAR BIOLOGY!  You round up, guess at the tax, add the tip and you are there.  If you need to know to the penny, I suggest you stay home and cook for yourself.

5.  I am/was a waiter.

This is the kiss of death.  People who are/were waiters tend to keep this to themselves.  At least until the end of the meal.  And if they really were waiters then the ask about the job, etc.  If someone says I am a waiter at the beginning of the meal, then you are fucked.  You might as well spend your time on the next table because you are guaranteed a 10% tip.

6.  I’ll hook you up.

This is worse than “I’m a waiter.”  People who are going to hook you up don’t tell you they are going to hook you up.  They just do it.  And if you mean by “hooking me up” you are going to leave 10% on a 200 dollar tab then perhaps you should look up in the dictionary exactly what that term means.  Fewer words.  More action.

7.  Can you give this to us for free?  Are you going to hook us up with some free drinks?  Can we have the glasses for free?

I’ll stand by my constant statement on this.  IF YOU WOULDN’T WALK INTO THE GAP AND ASK FOR FREE JEANS THEN WHY DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GET A FREE LONG ISLAND TEA IN A RESTAURANT???  Really?  Why SHOULD I give you something for free?  Because you spent a lot of money.  We are a business.  You are a customer.  That’s the way this relationship works.  Because I forgot to bring your beer and it took a couple of minutes.  Shit happens.  If everyone in the world got something for free every time there was a mistake no one would make any money.  It’s one thing if you find a roach in your salad.  It’s something entirely different if you are just asking.  I had a table a couple of weeks ago ask for something free every time I went to the table.  I finally stopped going to the table.  And don’t think you are being funny… you are not.  And remember this:  If I’m caught giving your something for free…I get fired.  And trust me the extra four dollars you are going to give me isn’t worth losing my job.

8.  We’ll take four waters and an order of french fries.

Do you realize you just waited 45 minutes to sit at my table and spend 4 bucks?  Do you realize that?  And do you realize we’d all be happier if you’d gone to McDonald’s.  You would have gotten fries that taste better and didn’t cost so much.  And I could have four people sitting in my chairs that want to order food.  This is a restaurant by the way.  NOT someplace for you to sit and hang out because you are tired.

9.  Do you speak Spanish?  French?  German?  Italian?  Japanese?

Yes a couple of weeks ago a waiter at our restaurant was asked if she spoke Japanese.  Really do you think the restaurant you are sitting in, only hires linguistic majors?  Because god knows they can’t get jobs anywhere else.  No I don’t speak Spanish.  No I don’t speak French.  Do I look Italian?  And DO NOT refuse to let me wait on you till I get a Spanish speaking waiter to help you.  I have no problem getting some one Spanish to wait on you.  But you need to wait for a table in their section.  I won’t let someone else deal with my tables.  I won’t.  I wait on foreign tables all day long.  It’s what I do.  I will speak slowly, and concisely, and enunciate every word.  If you have any understanding of English we’ll be just fine.  Just be willing to work with me.   I won’t try to rip you off, or order things for you, you don’t want.  I won’t automatically give you the big beer.  I will tell you when you are ordering too much food for two people.  And all I ask in return is to let me wait on you.

10.  Is it okay if I order off the kids menu?

You are 40.  No it’s not okay.   Now suck it up and order like a grown up.

11.  We are ready to order.

You are ready to order if when I pull my book out of my apron you tell me what you want to eat.  You are not ready to order if you are still deciding.  You are not ready to order if you have questions.  You are not ready to order if you need advice.  Being ready to order is being ready to tell me what the fuck you are eating tonight.  I don’t mind coming back, I don’t mind answering questions, but DO NOT expect me to stand at the table while you decide.  I have other people who need things to.

There are about 50 more but it’s time for bed.

Maddog’s First Date…

I had a date today.

Let me repeat THAT.

I had a date today.

It lasted 9 hours, 24 minutes, and 7 seconds.

I’m not kidding.

No really.  I’m not.

I got to the restaurant at 1:00 p.m. just as I said I would.

I left him after dinner at 9:24 p.m.

Needless to say I had a good time.  A VERY good time.

I think some of you thought a lot of my post was serious last night.  I was nervous about today.  I’ve been nervous about every first date I’ve been on.  It’s even worse if it’s a blind date.  It’s all about wanting to be liked.  But I’m not nearly as neurotic as I sounded.  More than anything I just wanted to go and have fun and be with someone who’d shown some interest in me.

After 9 hours, I think he’s interested.

I got off the train a couple of minutes before 1:00 p.m. and then had to call him to get directions from the train.

When I walked in, he was sitting there all cute and all, with his big brown eyes.  He got up, gave me a hug, and we settled in, chatting.

The conversation never lagged.  We chatted and laughed about all the normal first date things.  Family, jobs, etc.

After brunch, we got up and as he stood I said, “Damn, your tall.”  He’s 6’2.  I usually go for short boys.  I didn’t remember him being that tall.  He suggested we go for a walk.  I asked where to, and he said, “Why don’t we just see where we end up.”

We ended up at his apartment.

And he offered me a Diet Coke.  (He’s a Diet Coke drinker as well).  And then we settled in on the sofa and talked for almost two hours hardly touching at all.

Then he kissed me.  And then I kissed him.  And then we kissed each other.  And then we did some heavy making out.

And then we moved to the bedroom.

And we took a nap.  You were expecting something else weren’t you.  We snuggled up to each other and slept for about two hours.

And then we talked some more.

And then we…that parts none of your business.

And then we talked some more.

And then I said, “Either we have to get food, or I have to go home.”

And he said, “Then I guess we’ll get food.”

and we did.

We went to an Irish pub near his apartment that has great cheeseburgers.

And we chatted some more.

And then he walked me to the train.

He kissed me good night and walked away.

And about halfway down the block, he gave me the look back.

Yeap.  I think he might be interested.

🙂

By the way:  He has a Mohawk.  How cool is that?  Oh and he’s 10 years younger than me.

What if???

July 14, 2006.

Let me repeat that.

July 14, 2006.

July 14, 2006.

That was the date of the last date I went on.  And it was a disaster.

I suppose you want to know why I bring all of this up.

Well tomorrow.  Sunday.  January, 11, 2009.   At 1:00 p.m.  Eastern Standard Time.  I will sit down to brunch with a boy.  Exactly  2 years, five months, 28 days, 19 hours and 3 minutes since my last date.

I’m a little nervous.  The last time I sat down to eat with a boy I didn’t know, the Internet hadn’t been invented.  It was a little idea in the back of Al Gore’s brain, but he’d yet to put pen to paper.

What do I say?

What do I do?

There’s a part of me that would just like to cancel, so I can get a good night’s sleep tonight and not have to deal with the stress.  Of course if I cancel, I’ll never know if I missed out on the love of my life, the man I’m meant to have children with, who will sweep me away to the Bahamas to live for the rest of my life.

Maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

See that’s the point I’m making.  What if I come on too strong and scare him away?  What if I don’t come on strong enough and he thinks I’m not interested?  I don’t remember how to walk the tightrope of hard to get/available to keep them interested.  Of course, if I were being honest here, I’ve never known how to walk that tightrope.  Too many times I’ve scared boys away.  And a couple of times I’ve ended up dating boys who thought I was more interested than I was.  And it’s hard to get some boys to realize that perhaps it’s not working out.  Even after you tell them.  Think Glenn Close.  I’ll have to tell you that story sometime.

So I have to go and sit down in a restaurant and make small talk for an hour or so.  And do my best not to sound like an idiot or to make him think I’m crazy.  Which I am, but it’s best to wait till the six month anniversary to spring that on them.

And what if he chews with his mouth opens.  Or uses the word nigger in conversation.  On the first date.  (This happened with a dentist that I went out with in Cincinnati).

And then there’s the whole sex thing.  Do I just shake hands and leave?  Do I kiss him goodbye?  Do I stand on the street corner and make out with him?  Do I invite him back to my place and fuck like bunnies?  (If I’m going to do that I have to clean before I leave for my date).  Or do I wait to see if he invites me over to his place?  Or do I just pretend I’m not that kind of girl, which we all know I am.  But what if he’s not that kind of guy.  And he thinks I’m a ho, which I am, and doesn’t want to go out again.

And do I pay for brunch?  Do I let him pay?  Do we split the check.  I’m a good southern boy.  I’ve almost always picked up the check on the first date.  That is if it’s going well.  I tell them that they can pay next time.  Which says I’d like there to be a next time.  But is that too assumptive?  What if there won’t be a next time.  Then I’ll just be out the cost of brunch with no return on my money.

And what if it goes wonderfully?  And the conversation flows.  And we make googly eyes at each other.  And he invites me back to his place.  But we just sit on the sofa and make out.  And after some touchy feely business I tell him I have to go now, because I promised my roommate that I’d finally put the Xmas decorations away.  Then what?  How long do I have to wait to call him?  Or do I call him?   It’s 2009.  Do I text him instead?  And do I do it later and tell him what a great time I had?  Or do I do like they do on Friends and wait three days, constantly checking my phone to see if he called.  And having my friends call me just to make sure the phone and ringer are working.  Or do I not call at all and let him take the lead on this?

Or what if we go back to his place and start making out on the sofa and he’s a bad kisser.  He’s one of those tight lipped people that feels like you are kissing a wall.  Or one of those people that goes in with the tongue to do some serious plumbing.  Or he has bad breath?   Or what if we fuck like bunnies and he’s bad in bed?  Then what?  And if we are going to fuck like bunnies should I bring condoms?  Or once again, is that too presumptive?  Or tacky?  Or both?

And what if he snares me in his trap and convinces me he likes me and turns out to be the worst boyfriend ever.  Even worse than David?  I think I’d have to push him in front of a bus.

Oh what if, what if, what if?

What if, what if, what if?

What if, what if, what if?

I’m sure most of you had no idea that I was this neurotic.  I do a pretty good job of hiding it.  And although much of what I’m writing is said in fun, I am a little nervous.  Three years is a long time to be out of the dating pool.  And I’ve never really been very good at it.   Sam was the love of my life and I’ve already written about the lack of a first date with us. And I’ve never really dated any of the boys I’ve had long term relationships with.  We just sort of fell into seeing each other, one thing led to another and the rest is history.  And I’m not sure that’s the best way to do it.  I also know that the few times I’ve tried doing it the more traditional way it hasn’t ended well either.

Which is why I’m awake at 3:30 a.m. instead of getting my beauty sleep.  And god knows I need it.

So I guess the best way to approach it is to just go with it.  For it.  The worst thing that will happen is that it doesn’t work out, he thinks I’m creepy and doesn’t call again.  Right?

By the way.

His name is Adam.  He’s cute.  He’s from Texas.  And we talked for 30 minutes on the phone today.

That should say something right?

“It’s Not Pink Enough!”

It’s 8:15.  What little wait we’ve been on has gone away quickly.  The restaurant is quieting down.  It’s a typical Saturday night in January.  My station is mostly empty.  I have a couple of tables and my rail has a couple who are finishing up dinner.

Enter a mother, her teenage daughter and 10 year old daughter.  They have been guided by the hosts to sit at my rail, so I assume they are only getting drinks.  I stop by and ask if they are drinking or eating and if they need to see a menu.  I’m told they are drinking and yes, they need a menu, which I promptly return with.

And I do my thing.  I finish up the tables I have and now all that’s left is my couple and my new group.

So I go over to take their order.

And  I’m told that the teenage daughter is the only one ordering.  The girl then points to one of our non-alcoholic drinks and wants to know if it’s pink.  I tell her that it is.  And she says great.  That’s what she wants.  I tell her I’ll be back in a jiff.  And I’m off.

I ring in the order.  And head to the bar.  I pick up the drink throw a straw in it, a little thing that has our logo on it and I take it to the counter.  As I drop it off I explain that it’s not as pink as it usually is because clearly the bartender has put more strawberry in it than normal.  I jokingly ask if that’s alright and the mother looks at the girl and seriously asks if that’s allright.  The girl is not happy about this but says okay.

At this point the mother explains that they’ve driven 90 minutes in from Connecticut just so the girl can have the pink drink that she had a week ago at our restaurant.  I jokingly say that I wished I’d had her for a mother growing up and walk away.

As I walk away, I’m thinking what a fucked up parent this mother is.  Who would drive 90 minutes to buy their daughter a smoothie.  REALLY???  Unless she’s dying of cancer I’d have told her that she could have a McDonald’s milkshake and if she was nice we might make it one from Dairy Queen.  But I’m not a parent so what do I know.

I head back to the wait station to hang out because my couple and my teenage girl are all that’s left.

I’m standing in the wait station talking when the food runner comes in and tells me the lady at 55 would like to see me.  It’s the girl.  So I go over and the mother explains that this is not the right drink.  And I explain that the drink is usually more pink but it’s all about how the bartender made it.  It should taste mostly the same.  The girl then explains that it’s NOT the right drink.  The drink she had last week had strawberries, oranges, and pineapples on it.  I say that’s my fault that I didn’t put them on, and that I’d be happy to fix it.  And then the daugther becomes bitchy and says “THIS IS NOT THE RIGHT DRINK.  THE ONE LAST WEEK HAD ORANGES, PINEAPPLE AND STRAWBERRIES ON IT.”  I’m getting impatient at this point.  I pick up the drink and say, “The garnish does not effect the taste of the drink.  And I can FIX the problem of the lack of fruit.”  And the girl gets pouty and the mother asks if this will be alright and the girl says no.  So I pick up the drink and start to walk away.

And the mother asks to see the menu again.  So I get it for her.  And I stand there.  And stand there.  And stand there.  Holding a perfectly good Wildberry Smoothie in my hand while the girl checks and rechecks the menu.  She and her mother are trying to best decide what their choice should be to get the girl what she ordered last week.  And I stand there and I stand there and I stand there.  At this point my couple at the end of the counter are looking at me.  They are waiting for their check, which is in my pocket.  And I stand there.  And I stand there.  And I stand there.  While they debate.  And ask me questions.  Which of these drinks are pink?  “They are all shades of red.”  The drink I had last week wasn’t frozen it was more of a slushy.  “All of our non-alcholic drinks are either frozen or on ice.  They are not slushies.”  Which one of them comes with fruit on the glass?  “They all come with a garnish of fruit on the glass.”

And this continues.

And the girl is getting more bitchy and more pouty.

And finally the mother looks at me and says, “I want you to get her what she had last week, with the fruit!”

And I explain that I’ll get her exactly what she had last week with the fruit if they’d just tell me what that is.

And the mother asks if they can get the same drink remade but more pink.

And now I’m just laughing on the inside at how ridiculous this whole scenario is becoming.

And so I say, “I’ll be happy to get it made over again, if you can tell me what’s wrong with it.”

And the daughter pipes up once again and says, “It doesn’t taste right because there’s no fruit.”

And I explain that the fruit on the outside of the glass doesn’t affect the drink on the inside, and that I’ll be happy to get them a different drink.  But I won’t get them the same drink made to be more pink with fruit.

At this point the mother gets huffy with me and picks up her coat and says, “Let’s go.  We are not going to get what we want!”

And the entire time my couple is watching this take place.  And so I walk over to them and they ask what the problem was.  And I explain that the spoiled child was sending her drink back because it wasn’t pink enough.  And the mother was mad at me because I wouldn’t have it remade.   I don’t think they believed me.

And what I wanted to say was, “It’s all fine and good.  Make her happy.  And continue making her happy.  And spoil her.  And spoil her.  And just wait to see how she finally turns out.

I’m Hungry!!!

I had the day off today.

And I actually got more done that I would say that I did.  Or that it looks like I did.

I went to the movies.  The real movies.  I saw “All About Eve.”  There is a theatre in Chelsea that hosts classic movie night on Thursdays.   And tonight it was one of our gayer movies.  It was a lot of fun.  I’ve only seen the movie a few times, but it was clear that many people in the audience had seen it a million times.  They knew all the lines and were quoting them with the actors.  And as annoying as that might sound, it was pretty funny.  Add to the equation Hedda Lettuce was the host and MC.

hedda-lettuce-08-web

She was fabulous.  And funny.  And she had a microphone during the movie and occasionally would pipe in with some witty remark.

All in all it was a fun night.

And yet I’m depressed.

I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow.  I want to have another day off.  Actually I’d like to not have to go back to work at all, but at least one more day off would be nice.  But alas that is not to be.  So I just get to be depressed.

So I’m going to eat.  I just got back from the deli where I got a roast beef sandwich and a Nemo’s red velvet cake.  Which is not going to help the weight much.  But I’m hungry, and I don’t want to make my much eaten usual meal.  And did I mention that I’m hungry.  I didn’t eat dinner until 10:30 p.m.  Which was my first meal of the day.  I know, I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me.  I have to eat throughout the day.  But my days off are hard.  Normally I eat breakfast, but I was on the phone from 12:30 till 2:30 so that didn’t happen.  And then I headed downtown and I meant to get a snack and that didn’t happen.  And so I didn’t eat until the movie was over.  And then it was Thai.  Which was delicious.  But didn’t really fill me up.  And now it’s four hours later and I’m starving again.  And I suppose I should just go to bed.  And I’ve been fighting with myself for the past hour about this.  And finally I said what the fuck and went to get the sandwich.  And just like everything I’ll beat myself up for eating it tomorrow.  But eat it I will.  And tomorrow I’ll get back on the diet wagon and shoot for my goal of 200 pounds by May 1st.

Ugh.

Sam — Chapter 12

Where does the time go when you are having fun.  With work, the holidays, my trip to Iowa, my trip to Maine, and my absolute laziness, I haven’t had a single entry about Sam in two months.

So chapter 12.

It’s our first winter together.  Since we started dating, I’ve moved from a two bedroom apartment that I shared with a girl named Kathy, to a one bedroom apartment that I share with no one Sam.  Not much changes.  We are still working on our relationship, I’m still cheating, we are both in the depths of school, I’m still waiting tables and Sam has gotten a job at Structure.

And part of my duties as a grad student is to teach an Intro to Theatre class for non-majors.  I’d taught the class the previous semester and had a lot of fun.  And so it was to be this semester.  Until Marie decided that she couldn’t teach Tuesdays and Thursdays at 9:30 and needed to teach Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11:00.  And guess who was signed up to take Introduction to Theatre at 9:30.  You guessed it.  Sam.  And I suppose I should have made him drop the class.  But I was young.  And he was younger.  And it was against the rules.  And what’s life if you can’t break some of the rules.

So on Tuesday and Thursday mornings we would drive into school together.  I would drop Sam off a couple of blocks from campus and then I would park my car and hurry into class.  Sam sat in the second row on the aisle to the left of me.  And I pretended to not know him.  And I tried my best not to show him any favoritism.  And I suppose I was successful at that, because I made him re-write his first paper.  I don’t even remember why, but it wasn’t very good.  I also didn’t help him out with the tests.  There was only one so that wasn’t so hard.  I don’t remember what his final grade was in the class.  I want to say it was an “A”.  I’ll have to ask him.

I’d never do that again.  But I have to admit that it was fun breaking the rules and not getting caught.  I don’t think anyone ever knew he was in the class with me, and everyone in the department knew we were dating.  As you can see I’ve been very good at lying for a very long time.

Tune into Chapter 13 when I tell you about the first real affair that I had while we were dating.

Without a Clue…

I usually sit down at the computer without a clue as to what I’m going to write, and by the time I open the browser and get WordPress loaded something comes to me.

I’ve sat down three times to write tonight and nothing.

So here’s the long and short of my day.

My meds got here today.   And I didn’t shoot anyone.  Miracles never cease to amaze me.

It’s taken five hours but the Christmas tree is empty of all it’s trimmings.  It’s not quite so pretty as when we got it.

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As you can see it’s kind of on it’s last leg.  If you look close there is a huge pile of needles at the base of the tree.  It’s not going to be fun to clean up.  Luckily, as it’s been in the past, my job is to take all the decorations/lights off the tree.  Chuck does the rest.  In terms of time, it’s probably about the same.  And I’d hate doing the clean up of the needles.  As it is, I’m not looking forward to packing up all the Xmas stuff over the next couple of days.

Work was slow tonight.  Very slow.  But normal slow.  Not, “Oh my god the economy is in the tank and we’re all going to go broke slow.”  So we are all holding out hope that we do okay this winter.

I’ve been out of sorts all night.  My head is weird.  And I’m a little shaky.  I feel sort of like I do when I’ve had too much caffeine or haven’t eaten enough.  And neither of those things is true tonight.  I kind of think it might have to do with not taking my medication normally for the past several days.  That or I have a brain tumor.  I’ll keep you posted.

And what better way to end a post than to suggest I have a brain tumor.  Enjoy your Wednesday.

Maddog’s home…

I’m home.

I have a cold.

My medication was NOT waiting for me when I got here today.

I’m still grumpy.

My head hurts.

Everyone in the outside world I’ve come in contact with today has annoyed me.  Like the guy at the grocery.  And the guy driving me home today.

So I’m going to call it a night and go to bed early.

Let’s hope tomorrow is a little more fun.