The March Hare

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.