Friday, December 16, 2005
Boring Week
Monday: moved small sofa for friend Nikki. Went home and gave massage to friend Ryan. (Don't worry, I'm a licensed professional.) Ate ice cream. Slept.
Tuesday: New server came into work profoundly high/drunk/mentally ill. They let him stay and work anyway. He told me that he was high on Jesus, Christianality (sic), and that he had hurt his hip the night before in his eight-inch platform stillettos. He then sang me a song about the life of a female impersonator and flicked a towel in my face. Then went to Stephen's parents' house, gave his stepdad a massage (professional), ate dinner, watched 'Bones'. Nikki came over to do laundry. I slept.
Wednesday: Went to work, came home, ate fast food and then un-ate same fast food unintentionally, went back to work. Slept.
Thursday: Went to work, bought a few Christmas presents. Became unambitious gift-giving-wise. Forced Stephen to buy me Lebanese dinner. Was so bored, cut own hair to relieve monotony. Doesn't look good. Watched 'Bruce Almighty' on the USA Network. Could not sleep because feet were painfully cold.
Friday: Woke up and found that Stephen and I were both using the dog as a pillow. Gave another massage to a client (I passed a test and everything, Alabama License no. 1462) went to work at restaurant, trained new girl badly. Came home. Am writing this now. Will return to work in a few hours. Am anxious to see all of this cleaning Stephen promises. Have party to attend tomorrow, but have to wait to arrive until the musical act is finished as said musical act is the saddest. most pitiful old man ever. One shouldn't cry at other people's parties; a whole song was once written about it.
// posted by Amethyst Vineyard @ 12:22 PM 
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This man looks like his great sadness could occur at any moment. He has this giant keyboard and plays songs like "Pull Your Paddy Wagon a Little Closer to the Curb ('Cause Grandma Can't Step That High No More)"
If I was preseident of the universe, free backrubs for everybody, with no tagbacks. Maybe this man singer would not be so sad then.
I think he is sad because of the massive amounts of cheap beer and tabasco that he has consumed. That and the fact that he has little to no cartilage in his knees or ankles.
Not that it makes him sad, but he also refers to Louis Armstrong as "That ol' colored rascal."
Not that it makes him sad, but he also refers to Louis Armstrong as "That ol' colored rascal."
Viney, in the town I was born and raised (rural, pop. 2003) there was ample time to be bored. Yet I think this made me entertain myself and led me to reading more and writing more. Perhaps if we all lived in Paris, with fifty good friends apeice no job and all the pocket money rich people can muster, we'd be lame boring sods shuffling through the bright glittery things while growing fat on baguettes.
Man, I think I slept in too long...
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Man, I think I slept in too long...
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