Friday afternoon I was stuck at my boss’ new townhouse where they recently kicked out squatters. I was advising a cleaner on what needed to be done in this absolute filth hole. I did a little sweeping and such myself in order to not waste time. It was disgusting. I will never be clean again. One of the prior occupants is a crazy bastard who spent a long time on the phone with me. He told me women are only good for cooking and giving birth. I told him he was an idiot and if he had any women in his life that allowed him to act that way they were idiots too. He asked me out to coffee. I hope to God I never have to meet him in person.
Friday night I went to a fancy fondue party. Delicious! One of my friends brought back a variety of delicious rums from Dominica. Mine was cinnamon and I swear to you it tasted just like Red Hot Candies! That night I had a pretty bad seizure. I’m sure it had something to do with fucking around in that disgusting house full of pesticides earlier in the day but at least at this time I was with someone I trust and love. I tried to sleep it off all Saturday morning. I went to brunch at 1 but still felt like crap. I ended up back at another friend’s place where I fell right back asleep with her cat in my lap. The cat love made my face swell up and my eyes turned bright red. Sexy. So I went home and passed out at 8:30pm. I didn’t get up until 2pm the next day. So I went to my bar where I watched the Giants beat the Packers. That sucked. I also discovered one of the bartenders there is quite the douche-canoe and will not be privy to my conversation ever again.Cross me once and you get daggers for life.
After the game I had a fairly mild night which was followed by another 13 hours of sleeping. I had dreams about making tacos so I woke up and… made tacos. This taco making process of my dreams made the whole weekend worthwhile. I really love tacos.
So now it’s Monday morning. I’m back at work. I’m still really sore from the damn seizure. I’m pissed off. I’m pissed that my body is so damn weak that it feels the need to go into a dangerous fit that takes me days to recover. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop it? Why don’t we know the real cause? When will I ever be able to emotionally handle this crap? Can’t the lesson just be learned and then we can move on?
I’m going back to bed.