Performance and Cocktails

I'm up this morning, and wondering if I'm ever supposed to write about work here. As a rule I avoid it because I think that's proper, and I'm not sure I broke any rules last night. I was feeling brand new and wanted to share, you know?

But better safe than sorry. My job rules.



And to make up for it here is a blast from my past. 5 years ago I wrote this.

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I write my shopping lists in code. I don't know when this started happening. If I could figure that out it would solve a lot of the timeline for me. Things always happen in pairs and threes.

I write my shopping lists in code because I don't want Certain people to know that my mind works like

Nyquil. Sequins. Spray Paint. Caramel Apples. Waffles. Taco Bell. Stargazer Lilies.

so I make up names to represent things and they are totally easy for me to remember because I have a one degree of separation mnemonic device rule for my shopping list. That rule would seem to compromise my security measure but that one degree is fucking crucial, dawg.

It is the difference between Waffles and Tyrannosaurus Rex.

The why of it is that the honeymoon ended. Neurosis is sexy at the very beginning or if you're Liz Taylor holding a martini and wearing a seethru slip that matches your fucking eyes. But laypeople would be wise to remember that if you play switcheroo with even one of those goddamn qualities you stand a high chance of being told to fuck off for being such a dysfunctional spazz about everything.

Of course. If you are the type to do it anyway, and you are hot, you can always sniff your nose and sort of spin right round to face another partner on the dancefloor when you find yourself rejected. Someone is always waiting in the wings to take you for a spin because your act is That kind of act. The kind that lures from very very afar.

So either way. It's gravy.

Seek comfort in a stranger's arms. That sounds dramatic, yes? But no. You'll do yourself a favor remembering what it's like to be seen for the very first time. That's what true love feels like forever and ever.

Being replaced is like the opposite of Christmas morning. It's like a knife.

I got my voice back but my head is still spinny.

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And that's better than right here right now, I was very lightly tethered to reality back then. And now I'm off to work.

I'm getting it again. Thank God.

Good morning.