alien spawn

Whew - that first post was, shall we say, verbose. Maybe this blogging thang will help me develop the ability to get to the point. (Note to self: talking about getting to the point does not get you there.)

On to the juicy bits! This morning was a grade-A crappola. Fridays are supposed to be exhilarating, filled with the promise of the weekend. But no. These were the events. (Warning: this may get self-indulgent. Will be self indulgent.)

I was reminded that C (the gf) is unexpectedly going upstate tomorrow. I'd known for a week, but I kept forgetting. I struggled not to flip out. (She gets to see people she loves. You see each other every day. Yes you've both been busy, but that will pass.) I kinda flipped out. But then I pulled it back together.

Walking to the train it came out that she would actually be gone alll weekend. I kind of started crying, but fought it off. I walked faster and put my stony angry face on. C expressed concern. I brushed her off. And felt like a jerk.

We got to our coffee shop. I realized that my leftover chinese had leaked all over my bag. So I really started to flip out. And really kind of started to cry. It was the kind that more comes out of your nose than your eyes - you know, the really sexy kind.

In the midst of blotting vinegar off of all of my stuff, I told C that she should just go ahead without me to the train. Have I mentioned that I can be a drama queen? Being sensible, she walked out. I felt abandoned and hopeless. I threw all my shit back into my bag, bought my croissant and huffed out the door, swearing at a little yappy dog on my way out. (I have become someone who swears at random animals. But that's another post entirely.)

As I was preparing to storm my way to the train, C popped out of nowhere and offered me a drag of her cigarette. (You should know that I'm actually dating an angel...who wears a puffy coat and baseball hat. To hide the wings and halo, probably.) After a little nicotine, the world looked better. (Sorry mom.) I made it to work and I can't even smell the vinegar stench that I'm sure my bag is giving off.

The moral of the story? PMS + stress + sleep deprivation = me birthing THIS