The Cliffs of Insanity

I really want to stay up and watch Battlestar Galactica tonight, but I also really want to curl up and die as early as possible once I'm allowed to go home and stay there. I know I could tape BSG and watch it tomorrow, but watching it in real time is part of the experience for me. I can't explain it. Battlestar Galactica and Lost are two shows that I would much prefer to see during their air time. Maybe I'll take a nap, get up for BSG, then curl up and die. That may work.

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Becky likes ELO. She's 21 and likes ELO. She didn't know who they were, but she'd heard "Evil Woman" before and liked it. For the first half of the day, my young friend was rocking onward to my CD. I'm impressed with her and her taste in music. The fact that she's so young and has just been grooving to Jeff Lynne's tunes threatens to restore a shred of my faith in humanity....just a shred.

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The upper portion of my back is having mild muscle spasms. Not so bad that I'm immobilised, but bad enough to take my breath. Being a female of child-bearing years sucks big hairy ox balls. Every month, my body just decides to fall all to hell, my mood is worse than it usually is, and I get weepy. Weepy. Sith don't weep. We kick pooty-tang and laugh about it. We aren't supposed to fucking weep.

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To top off my already shit day, the Feudal Mistress gave me a project in rifling through all the POP on a printed list that's about 1.5 inches thick, and figuring out what we can scrap. I did a scrap voucher for all the old New Release catalogs then, with Becky's help, sorted through the POP by label and created an Excel spreadsheet that included the selection number, artist, title, and quantity of each item. It's been a day long task. Only now was I able to forward the list to the offending parties who haven't yet gotten their crap outta here. Now I must wait to hear back from everyone as to what we can toss and what must remain; however, after next Friday, it's no longer my problem. Yay!

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My weekend is pretty much planned out. Saturday, I'm sleeping and trying to recover from my heinous state of womanliness. Sunday, I'm mowing grass for the first time in two weeks. Of course, mowing is dependent on whether or not it rains. If it rains, the grass will continue to grow out of control. My front yard looks like Jordy Verrill's in the movie Creepshow and that ain't purdy.

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Right now, I'm looking out the window watching a thunderhead literally boil. That's pretty cool.

Barry has an agent now so plans are changing yet again. My Virgo sensibilities are aquiver with chaos. I need a lie-down, seriously! Enough about me though, this is great news, really. Better a professional handle this than a bunch of nutty fans who have 0 experience in matters of booking. I have minimal experience but my location prevents my using them to any decent degree.

My boss asked me today if Friday the 13th was unlucky for me. I informed her, with typical Goth-like flourish, that every day of this year has been unlucky or otherwise unfortunate. My persistent grimness keeps her away from me and, even though this makes me infinitely gleeful, I'm loathe to show my pleasure for fear that she may return, thinking that the black clouds have dispersed. This delight within depression reminds me of a little poetic skit thing my grandmother used to do:

"I'm happy when I'm sad... I'm always feeling bad."
"How are you?"
"Terrible..."
"That's good!"
"I'm happy when I'm sad."

bwahahahah!

Lew has survived his cold and is planning on spending the weekend with us. Other than working at the answering service tomorrow, I'm looking forward to it all. Steph and I are supposed to get together to go shopping for Aunt Tudi's Christmas gift on either Saturday or Sunday, and Lew and I are meeting James on Sunday. It will be a festive occasion to be certain unless, of course, my appearance is a bit too unaesthetic.

Reading asim's journal has gotten me to wanting to get back into Middle Eastern Dance. I really need to get in touch with Cecily and grauwulf to see if they want to start this back up. I'm just wondering if I still fit in my make-shift bellydance outfit... Perhaps it's time to have a proper one made. I'd make it myself, but it'd look like Picasso had tried his hand at fashion designing, so I think I'll refrain from that particular misery for myself and my friends.

OK, back to work for me. Only 6 hours to go....and counting.

Well, after a really scary day at work and about an hour of insane exercise, I am finally at home and vegging in front of the computer. It's a Good Thing, 'cos I really needed to chill for a while...well, chill might not be a good word since it's 90 some odd degrees outside and the A/C is in the other room. Let's just say I'm half-baked. ha ha

Llew was supposed to come to the abode tonight but he was out in the heat earlier and got rather ill himself, so he opted to stay home and vegetate himself. I don't bloody blame him, but I do miss him. We'll reunite tomorrow though.

Just heard from MmmMmmmm. Seems she got a wee note from a soul we mutually admire. She's rather pleased. Yay for MmmMmmmm!

Y'know, perching on the end of my bed like a fucking gargoyle just to work on the Internet is no fun. I really must get my modem card replaced in the laptop so I can be free...not to mention being able to start my work on the Shriekback site again...SHEESH.

So, one more day at the hellhole and I can forget about it for 2 days. That Black Music Month hooya is still going on and it has run me so far behind in my regular duties that I'm ready to pull out my hair. If you see a pudgy Sinead O'Connor lookalike, you can figure I finally lost it and started yanking out hanks of head floss.

End of Babble. Good Night, Sweets!