|Thursday, November 7th, 2002|
4:25a - Could You Ever Ignore?
Tonight was glorious and fabulous. Sort of. All right, it started out really fucked up and I totally lost it and my eyeliner ran down my face. But it got so good. It was like something in the universe noticed that a lot of shit was wrong with me, and then it decided to shift a bit and make things better. Tons better.
I went to dinner at Fresh Choice with Stefan because Mya was stuck in Emeryville working at a new Body Shop. Lil' Johnny was working there. It was the first time I'd seen him there in weeks. He asked me how I was doing and I told him I was writing. He said that was one of the things he always wanted to be good at, but was too much into politics to worry about it. I told him I got a new job. He agreed with me that the pay sucks. (I'm getting minimum wage. I didn't know this. This info bit me in the ass.)
I was talking to him, and I looked like Hell. He, as always, looked dreamy. If y'all don't remember me talking about Lil' Johnny, you can refresh your memory here.
So Stefan and I have dinner, get ice cream, and Stefan bites it and chews it up with his teeth just to amuse me. His face got all contorted during this lovely bit of showing off.
Later on, when we're almost done, and I realise I still have the digital camera with me.
"Uh-oh." I think to myself. "I want a picture, and Little Johnny is going to think I am weird, and it's going to be crazy. Oh well. I am going to put him at my mercy. He thinks I am weird anyway because of that stupid note I left him."
I go over to him, raise my camera a bit, and ask, "Can I?"
He looks at me, puzzled, and says, "What?"
"Can I get a picture?"
"I'm really bad with photos," he says. He begins to blush.
"If you're going to be a politician, you need to get used to it," I say.
He points at me and says, "That's very true."
By this time, the guys he works with have begun to notice. They look at him and start doing cat-calls. I motion for them to come over. Lil' Johnny smiles and says, "Yes. Come over here and pose with me if you're going to be a smart ass about it."
I take that picture, and after it is done, he poses alone. "Aw man. I'm turning all red." he says.
I show him the pictures. His co-worker notices this and says, "What? Is it broken?"
Lil' Johnny and I both laugh, and we show his co-worker. His co-worker looks at it and rolls his eyes. He mutters something in Spanish, and Lil' Johnny tells him that it's "Bonito!"
I thank him and begin to put my camera away. He then says, "Do you have time?"
I, stupidly, say, "Huh?"
"Tomorrow? Do you have time? I mean.. I have to work kind of late... but do you wanna go out for coffee?"
My heart starts to do flip-flops. "Sure," I tell him.
"I get off around 8, is that ok?"
"Yeah!" I tell him. "I have to work tomorrow too, so that's fine." What he doesn't know is I work from like 11-4. Oops. And I can't remember the time he told me to meet him (of course not, I was having a heart attack), so I'm going to the place at like 8.30 just to be safe.
After that, I positively dance out of the restaurant on air. I drive home listening to Portishead and trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Stefan comes over for a bit and promptly falls asleep. I put cold things on him, and he doesn't stir. He finally wakes, after a healthy bout of pinching. He notices G.I. Joe is on and stays until that is over. I discuss the future, and this website with Dan.
Stefan leaves, and I talk to Catarina, who I haven't seen for ages. Not since Grad Nite, in June, at least.
And now, here I am. Posting. Posting about the night that I consider wonderful.
( what post would be complete without pics?Collapse )
current mood: excited
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10:52a - No Workin', No Cry
I have insomnia because I am too afraid to go to sleep at night, and now I have to go in for work all tired and raggedy. I am even afraid to walk around my house during the day. I have this irrational fear that everyone around me will start dropping like flies.
With all that in mind, here is a joke to perpetuate my misery:
A young woman was approaching her thirties, and she and her mother were invited to the weddings of some of her co-workers, and some of the people she went to high school with. At the weddings, the mothers and fathers of the bride and groom, and just the general population would poke her in the ribs and exclaim, "You're next!"
They stopped that shit when she began to do the same to them at funerals.
Update: Lindsay The Movie Star is back!
current mood: afraid
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