March 16th, 2003

balloons

Sleep just isn't gonna happen.

Sunday morning ... I'm home from work ... curl up in my snuggly flannel sheets ... and lie there with my eyes open.

Wide awake.

I hate when this happens.

Work was slow, slow, slow, and then ... starting about 5am ... busy! nonstop until I left at 9:30. And the shift had a theme ... spoiled yippy little dogs with ditzy blond Newport Beach women for owners. There is a certain category of client that I've seen nowhere but Central, and it annoys the hell out of me. Newport wives. Dear god, the blonde and the stupid, with too much money for their own good ...

And this poor blind boxer that was hospitalized overnight barked and barked and barked until the doctor stumbled out of the office at 3 am and mumbled a dosage for a sedative. And I sedated the dog and my headache went away.

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So I entertained myself during the dull bits of work by talking to drunk Tyler each of the three times he called me, reading a book I borrowed from Andy, and talking via my phone's nifty AIM feature with Josie and wubby. And no one comes to see me ... I'm going to bitch about that until somebody does. I'm 5 minutes away, people!

So I've convinced myself that nobody that is into me will continue to like me if they really get to know me. Like if they see my house, meet my cats, or get too close to me. Recent events have confirmed this on the twisted side of my mind. I'm sure I can only be loved on a superficial level.

Which reminds me ... I should spend this time cleaning my room. Not that anyone ever comes to see me here, either.

Yup, feeling pretty sorry for myself today. But it's ok.

Oh, Jarhead Justin called, left a voicemail apologizing for being an ass Friday night. He actually sounded sorry. I'm over being mad. I never held a grudge over it, I just got pissed off and left. But I'm happy he apologized.
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