And I wanted to regale you with my movie watching adventure tales of the last couple o' days, which included, but was not limited to, THE SILENT SCREAM (an almost Cavalcade-worthy 70's peeper foray. Seriously, if you are going to rent rooms to cute college co-eds, it is almost essential that you install cast iron grates to peep through in every room. Practice your heavy breathing too. Do it now.), THE NIGHT DIGGER (written by Roald Dahl! Since when did the auteur behind Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach pen sexually repressed mother-daughter relationship tales? Who'd thunk?) and a Ruggero Deodato number with a Simonetti score (so good!) I hadn't heard of but turned out to be a downer, BODYCOUNT (all one word). And that ain't all. But I should be taking shots of Nyquil (is Nyquil considered a beverage?) and getting my ass into the bed, which by the way, I washed the sheets and blankets and have absolutely no desire to reapply said sheets and blankets to the bed, so I guess I should be getting my ass to the couch then. You perverts have a good night and pray for my soul for the next six days -it's non-stop bringing people drinks and dealing with their bullshit. That being said, behave yourselves when you go out to the bars. Or I will bite you. Which you would probably like, knowing you.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
This is me right now. Actually, it's Moochie, dreaming of chasing squirrels and eating chow, but that's how I feel. Like I just want to lay on my back with my paws in the air like a cartoon character, with x's over my eyes, and be done with it. There should be a law that states you shouldn't have to close the bar and then open that fucker the next morning, but apparently the managers I work for don't get that. So here I am, on my fourth glass of wine (we get two 'shift' drinks) and not the least bit tired, or buzzed really. I should have just slept there, because I have to be back in less than eight hours. Woe is me.