the trouble with humpday

here's the lowdown. i was outside with rocky before bed last night and he started barking at a woman searching through the bushes with a flashlight. i let him bark, because i, very much like him, was concerned about whether or not she should actually be doing this. she saw us and yelled, "have you seen a small brown cat around here?" at which point i immediately felt for her and shut rocky up to tell her no. she said her cat had jumped off her second floor balcony. i told her i'd keep an eye out, went home and rocky and i sawed off some zs. it's cool the way rocky sleeps in my bed. he either stretches out full length down one side of the bed with his head on a pillow, just like a human, or he curls up right next to me so small and rests his chin on top of my head.

so, we sleep a little. around 430am, i wake up after having a dream that i was woken up by a female neighbor speaking into my open window, "don't show your face around here, we'll have you fined, evicted, blah blah" just threatening. it was scary in the dream and i was put off when i woke up and rocky was wandering around by the door, so i got up to take him out again and the woman with the flashlight was in my bushes again! it was getting light out! she'd been out there all night. so i approached her and i told her that cats have a tendency to come back and that she shouldn't worry so much. she said she knew but her cat was an indoor cat and he'd never been out on his own before. i told her it's instinctual, when they come back, it's not learned behavior. blah. she sighed and kept looking in the damned bushes.

so, i go back to sleep, and this time rocky is sitting at the window making sure this rogue woman doesn't get past his territory line. and i snooze and i snooze, and at around 8am, my eyes half-open and my brain is still half asleep and i feel breath on my ear, soft, sweet breath whispering sweet nothings and it's mike's voice and my brain slowly comes to and i fight it because i want to keep hearing this and feeling this, but alas, i am fully awake and my eyes unblur and there is no one around and my heart sinks. i go back to sleep because it didn't cross my mind that it's wednesday and either my alarm didn't go off or i turned it off while still asleep. at around 10am, my phone rings and it's becky's ringtone and i miss it and lie awake in bed for 20 minutes, staring at the ceiling cause i don't want to move, they really ought not make beds so comfortable, and the phone rings again. becky. again. i answer.

there are dog poo issues and harassment charges against kitty-cats and strata fines and unhappiness all around, and we sigh at the lameness of the world and hang up.

i roll out of bed, get into the shower, and stand under the hot water for an eternity, staring at the windy licker handles in a daze, and the water starts running cold cause i've been standing there so long, just staring, so i wash and rinse as fast as i can before the water gets too cold to bear and hop out, towel off, dress.

saunter into the kitchen, put on a pot of tea. oolong, that has been fermented with jasmine petals and then the jasmine petals picked out by hand, which makes it premium jasmine tea because they underpaid laborers to pick flower petals out of the tea just to prove their jasmine tea tastes like jasmine without any petals hangin' around in it. and almost all oolong comes from taiwan, where the labor laws are as goofy as george dubya's no child left behind campaign which left more children behind than ever before. my oolong comes from taiwan. it is from the very fine van cheong tea company. some oolong may come from china. the most sought after oolong is monkey picked, which means they grow the tea tree so high that they send monkeys up in the tree to pick the tea. it's true. people pay more for this monkey picked tea, because they can't seem to figure out the monkeys are wageless workers and this is probably the cheapest tea anyone in the world could produce because it requires maybe 10 per cent of the human, paid labor than any other kind of tea. but alas, people think it's special because monkeys were trained to pick it and will pay about anything for a damned cup of the shit. and let me tell you, i have a very finely trained palate for tasting tea and it's differences, i was trained almost exclusively by gwen murchie, owner of murchie's and there ain't no fuckin difference between the high elevation monkey-picked oolong and closer to the ground oolong. people are just retarded. i used to sell pounds of white tea to fat chicks, at like $300 per lb, just by telling them it would make them lose weight. once or twice they would come back and say it wasn't working and i would ask them if they were on a healthy diet and exercising, cause it won't work without that. heh. i was the best salesperson there. naturally. that's why gwen kept me around through so many of my "you fucking fascists!!!" fits. i just thought that someone who could take a customer who came in for a $4 tea sampler and make her buy a $3000 tea scale, should be paid a little more than minimum wage.

... where was i? oh yes, i put on a pot of tea and sat down at my computer to check my email and see if word has come in yet that anything, anywhere in the world is happening that might be somewhat exciting. i sip my tea. i stare at the screen. i watch the minutes tick by. hey, i should put on some music. so i put on some fleetwood mac rhiiiiiaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnonnnnnn and sing some and watch the minutes tick by. i call my client, the man who owns the auto clinic. no answer. i call neil to see what's up. no answer, leave a message. i call my hawaii car rental guys. no answer. i call my client who makes christening gowns. no answer. i call the lawyer in new jersey to finish selling him the web design deal. no answer. watch the minutes roll by. ooo, maybe mail is here. run out, check mail, nothing. and here i sit. telling everyone all of this like you give two fucks.

i apologize. it's all that's happening. well, there is a guy outside mowing the lawn. plus there was a 3 second dog fight in the hallway. oh, and my mom called and asked if she could borrow the caddy tomorrow.

sooo... where do i go? who can i talk to? should i go to macs and sit and play keno? should i enroll myself in some kind of flower arranging course? where can i go where there are people who are not drinking, speak english and not stupid fucks i'll end up punching in the spleen just to dislodge the damned hammer in their assholes? what do i do? what do i do? agggh. write. i will write my book. i will write it right now and be done by the end of ... some month. ok. here i go. wish me luck.

Currently listening: Fleetwood Mac: Greatest Hits By Fleetwood Mac Release date: By 25 October, 1990

posted by Courtney at 1:51 p.m.

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