Bitter Blogging

This has been one of those mornings when you wake up and you just know that your bed feels too good to get out of. But you do it anyway, because you need that cash. I unrolled myself out of the "burrito" (Jer's name for how I always have the covers wrapped around me, forming this inpenatrable cocoon), started the coffee (the working girl's crack) and then took a very long, very hot shower (another place that I didn't want to leave). I was in a pretty good mood despite the grogginess and the general distaste for any day of the week that I have to wake up to an alarm. I drove to work, I listened to Ryan Adams, and I sang along...

Then...it happened. When I pulled into my parking spot and looked down at my phone, I realized I had a voicemail. I looked at my missed calls and didn't recognize the last number, so I thought I would see what kind of retard would call me at 7:45 in the morning. The first thing I heard was a ukelele and I know from experience that if you have a voicemail that is comprised only of a song, there is a reason for it. I knew right away that it was going to be a Pearl Jam song. And I knew right away who left the message even though I haven't had his number in my phone for several years. But there it was, staring right back at me and playing "Soon Forget" on my fucking voicemail, turning me into a big, bitter, blubbering mess and ruining my fucking mascara. That's right, internet, I am not going to see Pearl Jam tonight and Boy to Avoid is. As is Clifftopher. And Jules. And I, will be sitting on the couch with Spliff, crying my face off and being generally PISSED THE HELL OFF.

I am really trying to maintain a level of sanity here, but I really just don't think I can do it for long. I want to beat bitches up. (And then I want to kidnap Eddie and do bad things to him...Oh. Did I just say that?)

I am warning you know, friends, it is going to be that kind of day. And if you want to stay ALIVE, don't mention Pearl Jam to me, unless you are bringing them to my house. In which case, I will have your babies. But if that is NOT the case, and you feel the need to leave a PJ song on my voicemail, you should wear a cup. And maybe a helmet.