The past few days have been what I like to call "the pits".
All day at work, eventhough I was laughing and flirting and being my usual goonie self, I was on the verge of tears and not just little, tiny, useless tears. Sobbing, alligator-esque tears accompanied with wailing and maybe even some intense hiccuping and red, swollen faced humiliation. I hate to cry. I've cried enough this year.
Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's something in the air. Maybe it's the decrease in spring fever. Maybe it's just that sometimes, life sucks. That's not witty or clever or even interesting...it's just TRUE.
Things started rolling down hill on Monday, I guess. I'm not going to go into detail because details are not important. I'll just say I was jazzed about going somewhere and doing something and it turned out to be awkward and slightly uncomfortable. I understand that people have bad days and get stressed and have the weight of the whole on their shoulders...but there's nothing quite like driving long distance just to be with someone and feeling more alone than when you were ACTAULLY alone. Wah wah wah, I hear myself.
And then there was the memorial service for Josh. I cried...to a video memorial featuring pictures of him. My lip and chin started quivering and I froze. I wanted to be the one NOT to cry. I blamed it on the fact that Chicago was playing...Peter Cetera can make me bawl like no other. I hope they bought it. I know they didn't. The more Becky cried, I wanted to cry. And when Tim cried...watching his shoulders bounce up and down, that big teddy bear or a man...I died inside a little bit. It was horrific. But I was the family body guard. At one point, Becky's mother even walked by and made two fists in a sort of "you better be ready in case there's trouble" fashion. And I was ready...to defend their honor. I would have gone to jail, I love those two women that much. I am disgusting at the behavior of some of the people there. Some people should be ashamed. At least I know that the worst part is over for Becky and her mom. And I know that Josh had a fork in his right hand...or won Waterloo...or something (wink).
So you'd think getting home after all this driving and crying and disappointment and hurt would be BOSS because I could crawl in my bed and relax.
Not if you get a fucking video speeding ticket in the flipping mail!!! Stupid 280 with your stupid cameras that gauge your stupid speed and take a stupid picture of your stupid license plate! Damn you to HELL! I could have just set $100 on fire. At least that would have been rebellious. I went to bed in an angry fucking huff, that's what I did. Slept like Hell. Woke up all in knots...all worked up...all upset.
But on the upside...I DID coreograph a 4 girl routine (in my head) to "Beyond the Sun" by Sasquatch and the Sick-a-Billies for the next Pussyfoot show! I think it's going to be really fanastic. Lots of moves...will take lots of practice...but it will pay off and look really sharp and tight. Lisa seemed really into it which makes me proud. And working on the PFG website is also occupying my mind, so thank God for my hobby.
And thank God for going to the white trash buffet with Bean.
And thank God for the Cosby sweater conversation with Matt Argyle.
I don't want to feel like a sad cat who was black as coal..even her soul.
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