2005-08-02
I'm busy. And not the "good" kind, either.
I have a busy week. And when I say "busy", I mean "a whole bunch of shit I have to do which I'd rather not". My personal preferred definition for busy is the one where you're trying to drink wine, smoke, laugh, and eat the last mushroom cap at the same time. That brand of "busy" I like.
Let's review.
TONIGHT I am going to a Tigers game at Comerica Park in beautiful downtown Detroit. I have to leave work at 4:15 to go home to take my goddamn Nexium, because if I don't I'll be a miserable wretch all night long, because really, can you even walk INTO a baseball stadium and not order a big old Kielbasa? Exactly.
From there I have to go pick up HB at his place of work, because it would be silly to take two cars, right? I mean, it doesn't really matter that picking him up means that I have to drive 45 minutes out of my way, in this bullshit Detroit traffic, right? Right.
Our weather today rivals July in New O-lans, and the traffic on BOTH of the two major highways we have to take to get to the stadium is completely, batshit, unpredictably fucked up because of construction in anticipation of the 2006 Super Bowl in Detroit, because why the hell would we repair our roads otherwise, and hey! let's do them ALL AT ONCE, YO. It's like deciding to paint your house in preparation for a party next week. Sheer brilliance. (Okay. I did that.)
It will probably take us 2 hours to get to the stadium, and by then HB's forhead will look like Aunt Beulah's vericose veins after she got off the Tilt-a-Whirl, and there will be dry spittle stuck to his chin. "Stoic" and "patient" are not words I would use to describe HB's ability to deal with traffic -- or, for that matter -- any driver on the road but him.
Once at the game we will meet up with HB's childhood friend and his [edited] lovely wife for a relaxing evening listening to them bitch about their jobs, kids, their standing at the rifle club, and the last Monster Truck Ralley they attended ("some stokin' hot shit, dude!") -- none of which I find particularly interesting. They are nice people, but I'm just not in the mood tonight.
Let's pick a crayon to color me with -- how about "Bitchy"! Ooooh, pretty.
Needless to say, once there I am going to find me a seat at the Daquiri bar and belly up.
TOMORROW I am flying to DC with my boss for a 2-day trip. The only salvation to this trip is that my boss prefers my brand of "busy" so it will probably be fun.
THURSDAY NIGHT I have to come home, finish laundry, and get packed for Higgins.
FRIDAY I have to go to some tschi-tschi wine and cheese shop and buy a whole bunch of stinky foot cheese and expensive wines because we are throwing a cocktail party on Sat. night at Higgins. These are always really fun. Picture a room full of Thurston Howells saying "darling" through clenched teeth. "Darling, this cheese is positively de-VINE, darling. Tastes of goat. Darling."
Rich people use "darling" like younger kids use "dude".
LAST NIGHT After remembering at the last minute that we had agreed to go to the STOOOPID Tiger's game tonight, I stormed around the house doing my best Lindsey-Lohan-After-Herbie-Movie-Premier imitation (HB assures me it was flawless), threw some heated and venomous comments at HB, and drank an entire bottle of Clos de Bois Chardonnay.
My mood lightened when I rememberd two things about Tigers games:
(1) The daiquiri bar; and
(2) We park at the Greektown Casino.
THIS MORNING Babe, Scourge of the Moles, woke me up at 4:30 to be let out NOW NOW NOW LET ME OUT NOW RIGHT NOW NOW I WILL DIE and then I laid in bed and stewed about various atrocities in the world, namely, my nails. Why won't they grow? Why do they split and peel? Why can't I have hands and nails like Barbara Streisand? Would I have to have her nose, too? What is Barbara up to now? Do I care? I hate her. In fact, if I could, I would sneak into her bedroom and chew off every one of her nails. Eeww. That's gross. Okay, I'd clip them...
I did this until 6:25am, at which time I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed about not being invited to a DLand party that Andria had, and then the alarm went off at 6:30.
Is it Monday? Beze it sure feels that way.
Please pass the Friday. I'll have two.
xoxoxoxo
Ed. Note I had to "nice up" a certain paragraph about certain people because I don't like to be mean. Or is it that I just don't want to get caught being mean? Yeah. That, too.
xquzme at sometime today