Under The Wagon

My responses to how I answered a chain e-mail test:

1. Well, it is the Lord's number, and you know how well Jesus and I get along.
2. Probably right, but most of them are Canadians.
3. In a periodic, physical sense, yes.
4. Correct. It's my brother.
5. Maybe a little bit...I only thought of him because he's the one who sent me this stupid thing.
6. My mom? That's so gay.
7. Shut up. You don't know that. It could still work. Bite me. I hate this test.
8. Okay, that's funny. And eerily appropriate.
9. And again I say "Shut Up."
10. Who knew I was that optimistic?
11. God, that's depressing. So very, very depressing.


What I actually answered:

1. 7
2. 8
3. (******)
4. Mark
5. The fucker who sent me this stupid test
6. Alison
7. (******)
8. Machinehead
9. Float On
10. Beautiful Day
11. With or Without You


The Test itself.
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TAKE 3 MINUTES TO TRY THIS - IT WILL FREAK YOU OUT.> > THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO ME SAID HER WISH CAME > TRUE 10> MINUTES> AFTER SHE FORWARDED THE EMAIL> > NO CHEATING !!!!

1st. Get PEN and PAPER
2nd. WHEN CHOOSING NAMES, MAKE SURE THEY ARE REAL PEOPLE THAT YOU ACTUALLY KNOW
3rd. GO WITH YOUR FIRST INSTINCTS !!!!! Very> important for good> results.> >
4th. SCROLL DOWN> > >>>> > >> ONE LINE AT THE TIME> >>>> > >>> >>>> > >> DON`T READ AHEAD> > >>>> > >> otherwise> > >>>> > >> YOU WILL RUIN THE FUN.> >

1. On a blank sheet of paper, WRITE NUMBERS> 1through 11 in a> COLUMN on the LEFT.

2. BESIDE the NUMBERS 1 & 2, WRITE DOWN ANY 2> NUMBERS YOU WANT.> > >>>> > >> DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE NUMBER?> > > >

3. BESIDE the NUMBERS 3 & 7, WRITE DOWN THE NAMES> OF TWO MEMBERS OF THE> OPPOSITE SEX.> > CAUTION: DO NOT LOOK AHEAD or IT WILL NOT TURN> OUT RIGHT> > > > >

4. WRITE ANYONE'S NAME> (like FRIENDS or FAMILY...) next to 4, 5, & 6.> > > DON`T CHEAT OR YOU`LL BE UPSET THAT YOU DID> >

5. WRITE down FOUR SONG TITLES in 8, 9, 10, & 11> > >

6. Finally, MAKE A WISH> > > > ARE YOU READY?> > HERE IS THE KEY TO THE GAME>

1. THE NUMBER of PEOPLE YOU MUST TELL ABOUT THIS> GAME> is found in SPACE 2 2. THE PERSON IN SPACE 3 IS THE ONE YOU LOVE> >
3. THE PERSON YOU LIKE but your relationship> CANNOT WORK is in> SPACE 7> >
4. YOU CARE MOST about the PERSON you put in> SPACE 4> >
5. THE PERSON YOU NAME IN NUMBER 5 IS THE ONE WHO> KNOWS YOU VERY WELL.> >
6. THE PERSON YOU NAMED IN 6 IS YOUR LUCKY STAR> >
7. THE SONG IN 8 IS THE SONG THAT MATCHES WITH THE> PERSON IN> NUMBER 3> 8. THE TITLE IN 9 IS THE SONG FOR THE PERSON IN 7
9. THE 10TH SPACE IS THE SONG THAT TELLS YOU MOST> ABOUT YOUR> MIND> > 10. AND 11 IS THE SONG TELLING HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT> LIFE> >
11. NUMBER 1 IS YOUR LUCKY NUMBER

SEND THIS TO A MINIMUM OF 10 PEOPLE WITHIN AN HOUR > OF READING THIS.> IF YOU DO, YOUR WISH WILL COME TRUE.> IF YOU FAIL TO, IT WILL BECOME THE OPPOSITE> STRANGE HOW IT SEEMS TO WORK. >
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My wish didn't come true. But you already knew that, didn't you, stupid smarmy chain letter? Because it regarded #7, and you already declared that a dead end!

Fuck off.

I hereby announce December 29th, 2004 a National Day of Mour-drinking.

Today has been set aside as a day to drown your sorrows and grief (real or imaginary) in the sweet, sweet healing of alcohol. Start with the inebriating beverage of your choice, raised in honor of a departing or departed relative, lost love, busted radiator or hangnail.

Repeat.

And repeat again, until you can't even remember why you're grieving.

If you don't have something specific to mourn at this time, don't worry...The National Day of Mour-drinking will occur as often as necessary.

And lucky for me, my grandfather's dying.

Raise your glasses, folks. I'm getting drunk.

(actually, I didn't need the word "getting" in that last sentence)

Dude.

I just spent three days in Chanute, Kansas. I wasn't planning on seeing the family over the holidays, but my grandfather was just diagnosed with lung cancer and I really felt I should go down there for both him and my mom. Her mom died about this time last year (also from smoking related causes), and it's been kinda tough.

Note: This isn't a plea for pity, just statin' facts, folks. There will be severe repercussions for anyone who takes this as an opportunity to lecture me about my nicotine habit. Yeah, cigarettes kill. I fucking know already. Shut up.

Anyway, I'm glad I went down there, but it's been a pretty brutal time. The combination of not wanting to smoke around my Ma with all the additional stress meant I wanted to smoke all the fucking time. I was nic-fitting every five minutes, when I normally don't even smoke that much during the day. I kept sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to grab a few drags in the bushes behind the garage. Cool. Oh, so very cool.

I just go home a few hours ago, except I didn't actually get home. The flight from Kansas City was late, arriving at Midway at 10:30pm. The flight was full, requiring the checking of luggage, which further required waiting for luggage. Which meant that I made it back to work, yes WORK at 11:30 pm, exactly half an hour before I started the midnight-5:30am shift.

I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm a little fussy, I am way too fucking sober, and I have one cigarette to last me the rest of my shift. I'm emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and...As I may have mentioned...SOBER. I intend to change the latter as soon as humanly possible.

So here's the plan for today.
5:30am: Get off work
5:40am: Get home
5:45am: Start pounding Ouzo (Thank you WNEP Xmas party grab bag!)
Sometime between 6-7:30am: Pass out
2ish, maybe 3ish: Wake up, go to the bar by Starbucks where I can almost pick up their WiFi link, start drinking whilst surfing the net.
5pm: Start calling people to come drink with me/have sex with me.
9pm: (Should I lack adequate drinking/fucking partners) Go to Elbo Room. Find someone to have sex with me.

It should be noted that I have a meeting with my boss on Thursday, and I have absolutely nothing ready for the meeting. Guess what? Nothing's getting done.

Nothing except me getting drunk as a wombat and forgetting I have a family that loves me.

Santa's been pretty damn generous this year...What with my Ma springing for the new Sony VAIO laptop and all...

However, Mom also mailed me two lovingly wrapped presents, so I'd have "something to open on Christmas." I can safely say that she did not expect me to refrain from ripping these things apart at some point well before the 25th, if not the moment I received them.

But I had self control. The desire to unwrap something on the actual day outweighed the urge to find out what was inside NOW.

(Besides, I was pretty sure one of them was just a sweater, or maybe some pajamas. Nothing overly exciting.)

So under my mic stand they went (I at least put Christmas lights on it), where they stayed pretty and pristine for 2 weeks.

-----------

On Tuesday I planned to meet some friends for lunch. I woke early and ran through a mental catalogue of my wardrobe. "Dirty. Dirty. Too cold to wear. Dirty. Might be able to febreeze that, but don't really feel like wearing it..." And so on.

Then I remembered the box that felt like a sweater. Or maybe some pajamas.

I REALLY wanted to wait to open it until Christmas day.

I'm serious. I love Christmas and at this point savoring the surprise seemed really important. Because I wasn't going to be with my family, and this seemed a way to be closer to them, at least for the few moments it took me to untie a big red bow and rip away the green and gold striped paper. I'm not anticipating any gifts to unwrap from my friends, hell, I'm not getting them anything either. We're all pretty poor this year. So I wanted to wait.

But I also really wanted something to wear to lunch.

So...Very carefully...I slid the bow up a little bit...Eased my finger under the seam of the wrapping paper and the scotch tape holding it in place...Peeled back the paper...And cautiously put my hand into the box to pull out the contents...

"If it's NOT a sweater, I'm just gonna shove it back in the box, re-seal the tape, and open it on Christmas."

There's no one to see if I unwrapped it or not. There's no one to know. There's no one to watch me unwrap it ON Christmas morning!

But I knew with all certainty that should this thing that felt like a sweater turn out to be anything other than a sweater...I was gonna put it back in the box, and pretend I'd never looked.

It was a sweater.

A great sweater. Nice color, flattering fit (makes my boobs look HUGE), and it's so goddamn soft it feels like I've swathed myself in baby rabbits.

So I wore the sweater to lunch. I was complimented, I was stroked (seriously, it's like wearing a fucking bunny), I was glowing and looking very expensive.

I guess I failed somewhat, but overall I don't feel too bad. 'Cause it's a really great sweater. And, I'm proud to say, the other present is still sitting bright and beribboned, patiently awaiting a proper opening in two days.

Even though IT feels like a necklace that totally would have matched the sweater.


But I can wait 'til Christmas.

(Definitely no earlier than Christmas Eve)

First off, the weekly debauchery update:

Saturday, I got drunk and acted stupid.
Sunday, I got drunk and acted Very Stupid.
Monday, I threw up blood.

And on to the new business...

While the drunken ramblings of Under the Wagon are all fairly factual (some names changed to protect the guilty, situations changed to protect the boring)...Did you know that your friendly neighborhood lush also writes things THAT ARE NOT TRUE???

It's called fiction. Most of it ends up on the group blog of WNEP Theater. For those interested in seeing what I write when I'm ignoring my responsibilities to the 3 Canadians that actaully read this...Here's the (rather extensive) collection of things that may amuse, annoy or offend thee:

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/08/true-love-fragments-from-conversation.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/08/ben.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/09/inner-child-monologue.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/09/letter-to-powers-that-be.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/09/second-letter-to-powers-that-be.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/10/postcard-to-powers-that-be.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/09/cocktails-for-new-millennium.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/10/throwing-in-towel.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/10/my-geography.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/11/high-scorer.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/11/on-disdaining-your-audience-study-in.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/12/writing-in-third-person-means-you-can.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/12/unfuckingbelievable.html

http://wnepeeps.blogspot.com/2004/12/mr-blackwells-worst-decorated-2004.html

Things I've bitched about in the last few weeks:

*My Job (occasionally)
*The play I produced (excessively)
*Whether or not I'm getting a laptop for Christmas (quasi-jokingly, but actually pretty serious about it)
*My acid reflux (Both for pity and as an excuse for not getting shit done)
*My love life/lack thereof (obsessively)

I have bored my friends to tears this past month. While this time of the year is usually pretty rough on me - I have hardcore Seasonal Affective Disorder - this year I've managed to combine it with Sundry Additional Complaints, for a delightful case of S.A.D.S.A.C.*

* Seasonal Affective Disorder is actually a legit problem. I still think it's ridiculous and frustrating that my mental health is so horribly affected by lack of sunlight. It feels stupid. Like some trendy, yuppie hypochondria. But for 10 years I've practically been able to tell what day it is by how bad I feel and the rather terrifying random thoughts that pop into my head..."Hey, why don't you slit your wrist today?" "Hmm, must be Nov. 15th." I've tried medication (don't get me started on the sexual side effects of Prozac), but I've learned to control the worst part of the depression. I just get really moody until everything peaks in January...And then the slow decline back into...well, my normal moodiness.

This year I've been fighting the good fight against the S.A.D., mainly because for once I have some excellent, extremely supportive friends around me. But the poor people have been putting up with a shitload of S.A.C.

After I had the 7 millionth bitchfest about "the horrible unloved-ness of me" to one poor chum (thank you Rebecca), I realized what a wretched broken record I sound like. Jesus christ, I don't know how they've been putting up with it. So I decided to evaluate:

1. My Job: My boss doesn't like me and I feel like the clock's ticking. However, I've managed to work less than 3 days a week for THREE YEARS. Getting a shit day job wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me. I could actually meet people, have a normal sleep schedule, and a day job would accommodate my acting endeavors much better than my current job.
2. The Play: It was stressful and frustrating at times, but it's over, and it was very successful. I learned some valuable lessons about producing and now I can start looking towards the next project.
3. The Laptop: Oh god, but I was a bastard about this one. Several months ago my mom suggested she was getting me a laptop computer for Christmas. Then she started talking as if she was getting me a "surprise" instead. My brother confirmed I was getting something else. I needed a laptop, she said she was getting me a laptop, what happened to the laptop??? Turns out she and my brother were in cahoots to repay me several years of Christmas present oriented torture. I got the laptop. It's a gorgeous Sony VAIO, and the most expensive present I've ever received. It is so much better than I deserve.
4. The Acid Reflux: The play is over, which should cut down on this considerably. The rest is my own damn fault for drinking and smoking so much, along with horrible eating and sleeping habits. I know what I need to change to fix it, so I need to shut up already.
5. The Lack-o-love-Life: Everybody is sick of hearing about this one, but it can be summed up thusly - "Wow, you're having a hard time finding a relationship? Everybody does, asshole. You at least get laid pretty much when you want, and as much as you bitch about being unloved there's a ton of people you know who go months or years at a time without love OR sex." To paraphrase an old standard (in the worst way possible) "There's plenty of starving children in China who'd love to get some cock." Relationships are hard and what I'm going through is no different than what everybody else does.

So I'm gonna try to stop bitching. There are things that I can fix, and things I can't. I need to focus on what I can do something about and shut the fuck up about the rest.

But thank whatever powers that be that I've got such incredible people around me who've listened to hours of this shit. When they've given me advice, it's been very good advice indeed. And the rest of the time they've just listened.

Thank you. I'm pretty fucking lucky.

(For anyone who read all through this hoping for my usual lust-laden sagas of debauchery...Don't worry. I'm going out tonight, got the WNEP Christmas party tomorrow and Rock Club on Monday. Tales of humiliation are sure to follow.)