Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Christmas Special

Today, I received an email from "Santa's Slave" asking me if I wanted to get laid on Christmas. No, I really don't, but thanks for the offer. I find that at this time of year, it takes too much effort to go through all the trouble of being a top. I mean, gathering the toys, making the time, let alone thinking of creative ways to use lumps of coal is enough to make my head swim.

Instead what I really want is to see Joel McHale at GSR. And...I think I might be able to swing it. Todd is going to give me half the cost of the ticket, and I am fairly certain I can come up with the other half, as I just received a rebate in the mail reimbursing me for a club membership fee that was done away with.

So, I must apologize to Santa's Slave, for instead of filling up her "stocking" with lumps of coal, I must spend my time with Joel McHale. But, if Santa's Slave really needs it, I'm sure there's a willing reindeer out there somewhere.

Thursday, December 18, 2008


Tonight before class began, one of the owners of the store said she had a funny story about a couple who came in earlier. When the girls asked if they could help the couple find anything, the man said "Yes, we are looking for books on Wick."

"Wick? Are you sure?"

"Yes," replied the man. "Wick."

"Perhaps you mean Wicca? Or maybe witch?"

"No...Wick. My wife, she's Druish and wants a book on Wick."

"That's funny," muttered another customer standing by. "She doesn't look Druish."

We had a good laugh at the couples' expense and decided that maybe it was time to design a Druish tradition. I'm sure it would involve lots of magical latkes and eight days of candle magic in December. As long as I could still wear a Yarmulke in a skyclad ritual, I suppose I'd be happy.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008


After sleeping until 9 a.m. four days in a row, and staying in my pajamas until late afternoon, it's official: I'm depressed. I have no energy. I feel like a zombie and I don't want to do anything. Not even drink. And when I can't even muster enough energy to open a bottle of wine, I know I'm in trouble.

The problem is, I'm not sure what to do about it. When I lived with Todd, I couldn't afford to be depressed or experience massive amounts of time spent in Inertia Land. No matter what happened while I was living there, I got up every day at a respectable time, let the dogs out, made some coffee, and got myself moving. Most days, I went for a walk in the morning. This involved getting dressed...something that seems foreign to me now. The other day when it snowed? I went outside - twice - and shoveled in my pajamas and fleece robe cover. The only reason I didn't wear my slippers was because I didn't want them to get wet.

Today is a better day than yesterday. I got up earlier than usual (okay, it was because Schmutzy threw up a pile of slimy tinsel on the side of the bed, but I still got up). After cleaning it all up, I took a bath and got dressed. Okay, so I'm wearing sweats (one level up from jammies), but I am dressed. And clean. That's progress, right?

What isn't progress is the fact that my resume remains unwritten. I have these wonderful books full of expert guidance, and here I sit surrounded by them with absolutely no desire to actually open them.

How does one shake a bad case of inertia? It obviously takes more than a bath and donning a pair of sweats...although the bath is probably a step in the right direction.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Hi, My Name is PJammy

My friend Carmen told me that she believes any one who drinks alone at home is an alcoholic. If that's the case, then I'm definitely an alcoholic. Cheers to me.

Last Wednesday, I was laid off. One of the first things I did (after crying) was to call my parents to inform them of my bad news. Before we said good-bye, my mom and my dad both encouraged me to run a bath and drink a glass (or two) of wine to settle down. Does this make them enablers or just wise? I'm not sure what Carmen would say to that; I chose to believe they were wise, and so I followed their advice.

After opening up a bottle of wine and running a bath, I do admit that I felt a little calmer. Carmen might say numb, but you know, she's not writing this, is she?

One week and two bottles of wine later, I am in a slightly better head space. I realize that the job itself sucked the big red one. And while of course I hate that I'm without a job now, when the economy is in such bad shape, the constant heartburn I had has gone away. So has the feeling of dread and the fear of making a fatal mistake.

The atmosphere at QuadNet was not a good one; in fact, my faux boyfriend kept telling me the atmosphere was toxic and I should get out as soon as possible. But, the steady paycheck and solid benefits kept me there. Or rather, my fear of being without kept me there. When I think of it now, I had so much fear in me (fear of being without a job, fear of making a mistake, fear of not being liked, fear of not fitting in) that I am surprised that it took a layoff for me to hit the bottle. I probably should have been imbibing all along; it might have made the ride easier.

During the last two days, I received calls from friends wishing me well, validating my worth, and sending their love. After two such calls just today, I find myself drinking water and feeling better about my future. The bottle of wine I opened last night remains untouched. The wine did it's job; now it's time for me to do mine.

I think it's time to cork the bottle and get on to the next step...whatever that might be.