…kinda.
so yeah, i got a temp assignment today which basically entailed walkin’ two miles down brighton ave. to this huge ass complex and typin’ in shit on an ugly-ass excel spreadsheet all damned day while sporadically posting on CL.
but i made more money than just going to the gym and futzing around on the internet (and incessantly posting on CL), so that’s a good thing, right?
yesterday was supposed to be sucka free, but it so wasn’t…it sucked up one side and down the other…well, all up until the end (for a while).
let’s see how much yesterday sucked:
1. kickboxing = teh super painful (and i’m STILL sore), thus pineapple was immobile and achy all day
2. tv/radio conspired to drive me insane
3. joblessness was making me panic hardcore
4. got in long, drawn-out, conversation/argument with the moms
5. missed the jetta, having been thwarted on saturday
6. cold + empty apt. + too much time to think = suck
7. nonstop thinking about the rockstar
*sigh*
yeah, i’m super lame. super dee duper lame. BUT i tried hardcore to thwart the day in some way, shape or form, ya heard? i showered, got ready, put on the tim brown ersey and hauled ass to harvard square to meet rosco, josh & jetta for the don hertzfeld animation show. of course the b-line was under construction and kenmore was too fuckin’ far away and i hauled ass to the #66 stop only to realize i may not make it in time for the god damned 7:30 p.m. showing. blegh. OF COURSE just as i seriously consider calling/flagging down a cab, a fuckin’ bus pulls up at 7 and i get on. then i’m all compulsively checking the scores for the football game because the raiders are playing the vikings.
yeah, that’s right. pineapple’s team vs. rockstar’s team.
*sigh*
and OF COURSE he gave me all kinds of shit about it late saturday night. oh we had the most “pleasant” im convo ever. blegh squared. fucker signed off on me without even saying anything. he just ignores shit i say to him and goes. just. like. that.
*growl*
so i gets to harvard square and i’m checking the score and the game is so. close. and i’m stoked because my boys have been ahead for the whole thing but they let those damned vikings catch up. then my daddy calls and i get to talk to my uncle ruben and my uncle alfred and i realize how fucking much i miss my family and how much i hate the god damned holidays. so i’m alternately thrilled to hear their voices and all excited that the raiders are finally winning a motherfuckin’game…and being all sad dog because my family’s so far away, i’m stuck out here and i’m going to be alone as all fuck for thanksgiving.
blah.
then joshers runs up and we harass jetta & rosco to show up. i swear i *heart* rosco to little squishy bits. so much more than cheese. and oh, my christ was the animation show fucking hilarious!
my spoon is too big!!!
i am a banana!!!
now, with more sodium! SWEET JESUS!
*giggles*
so. fucking. funny.
also: rosco = teh h0tt!
so then i’m coming home on the subway and the fucking b-train is STILL under construction so i get the bright idea to walk back to allston rock city from kennmore. yay! i’m clearly not the sharpest crayon in the box, ya heard. and somewhere around guitar center the rockstar calls. all ‘good game tonight’ and he’s on his way home from christ knows where…of course he so didn’t have time to see me and talk or anything today. even though it was his fucking day off. this frustration thing is driving me up the fucking wall!
i mean, every fucking day i think about him and miss him and it’s slowly eating away at me and making me insane over every fucking thing. i can’t do a damned thing without thinking about him. which means i remember that we’re not together and replay ever awful thing in my head and end up bawling my eyes out…even in the middle of the fucking street. which is what i did after we hung up, because ‘the bus is coming soon.’
cried my fucking eyes out as i walked down comm. ave. to shaws where i picked up a few things so it at least looks like i’m pretending to eat like a normal human being. i hate being like this. can’t fucking stand it. i want to gouge my eyes out with a god damned rusty spoon just to spite them for leaking so many fucking tears all the god damned time.
also note: i officially hate thanksgiving. can’t go anywhere in the fucking grocery store without seeing thanksgiving related shit. turkeys, stuffing, cards, decorations, yams, etc. happy fuckin’ thanksgiving, yo. well you know what i think? FUCK THAT!
i’m going to be all by my fucking self in the middle of fucking allston rock city on thanksgiving. my dinner is going to be a bottle of jack, ya heard. fuck thanksgiving. last year was great…this year…man i don’t even want to be conscious for thanksgiving this year. and if i get a big enough bottle of jack, i won’t be.
so i gets home after walkin’ all over allston…attempting to clear my head. and i flop down in my disaster area of a room and jetta’s online. but guess who else is? huh? that’s right…the rockstar.
and because i’m completely 100% weak and can’t resist him for even a little bit i im him. and basically we talk about jetta and how much he misses her and how he’ll drop everything to go see her sometime this week. but he can’t spare 5 minutes for me. not even five fucking minutes. and OF COURSE i start crying again, and christ help me if i’m not jealous of how he misses jetta. i mean…fuck. what the fuck is so fucking awful about me? what exactly did i do that was so fucking horrible that we’re like this? how did i manage to ruin everything this much? why does it still hurt this fucking bad?
*growl*
i hate crying. i really fucking do.
and then he informs me that he apparently would come see me but i’m ‘so far out of the way’ and he ‘studies a lot’. GAH!!!!!!!!
fuck that.
so yeah, i pass out with the computer again after being all miserable all damned night and then wake up at 5 a.m. only to sleep for about an hour more before getting up and paranoidly (is that even a word) waking up and getting ready and hauling my ass to this random office building in brighton. it’s cold and dreary and i’m of course missing the fuckin’ rockstar. whan am i ever NOT missing the rockstar? seriously.
but i worked and whatnot, and that felt good. like i’m not a useless lump of worthlessness…at least not that much of a useless lump. um…yeah. so i worked (read: typed a bunch of shit up) and such. but they gave me lunch…which wasn’t so bad. and it is a pretty cool building. they provide a shuttle service to harvard square and that was awesome. free cab ride, score! ooh and the brownies were yummiful.
and then i worked at stax…or something somewhat resembling it and came home. but i spend too much time these days crying on the fucking subway. especially depending on what i’m listening to on my ipod.
rockstar-esque music does me in every time…ESPECIALLY if it’s actually one of his songs. then it’s all over.
i came home, made some pasta salad for tomorrow…puttered around the apartment and talked to my midget. i missed the midget, yo.
blegh… i’ve clearly been bitching too much. in other news, my roommate is still gone. w00t! so long as that fucker comes back and gives me the money he owes me for bills then all is well.
blah: i have nothing important to say.
