Mildly, Temporarily Depressed

Aside from a surprise pickup from a friend this morning while waiting for the MUNI express bus, and having drinks and french fries with friends at Myth tonight, I have had a really bad day.  LuLu (Marc’s new puppy) is hospitalized and might die!  I hate to talk about work, but it wasn’t good.  So bad that I started looking for other jobs.  At least the stock market is up.  My umbrella broke while I was strolling around during my mid-afternoon break.  

I’m mildly, temporarily depressed.  Thank God tomorrow is Friday.  Hopefully all the upcoming celebrations and events (Chinese New Year, Mardi Gras, Super Tuesday, Groundhog’s Day, Superbowl Sunday) will make the rain go away.

Blah of Consciousness

I’m tipsy and ready for bed.  Yeah, it’s 10:45pm and I’m in my terry-cloth robe, sitting in bed, about to pass out.

I know the doctor said it might take a few days to take effect, but I was still sweating today.
I love the soundtracks for Karate Kid I and II.
My skin is really dry because of the weather.  
I’m too cheap to turn on the heat, so when I’m at home, I snuggle in bed with my wireless MacBook or analyst reports.
I had two glasses of wine with Joy, then ended the night by going to Jack-in-the-Box for chicken strips.
There’s an official, but hidden USPS at the back of a stationery store in the heart of Chinatown a block away from where I work.  No one knows about it.
When it’s cold like this, I miss my exes.
My friend’s husband (who is also my friend) doesn’t wear his wedding ring.  We got into a bit of a tiff when he said, “I don’t need to prove my love by wearing a stupid ring.”  If that’s the case, you stupid-ass dufus, what’s the point in getting married???  If you really believe you don’t have to PROVE your love, then why do it at all…by giving her an engagement ring, by asking her father for her hand in marriage, for going through the whole wedding ceremony.  What, I ask you, is the fucking point then?  Might as well just hold hands and sing kumbaya.
Can someone help me figure out keyboard shortcuts on a Mac?  How do I toggle, cut or paste, or close down an application?  How do I page up or page down?
There are a lot of cheap things to be found in Chinatown.
I bought some expensive Blue Tea and poured myself a cup this morning.  I hated it.
I hate fruity-flavored crap.  Fruity teas, fruity chocolate, fruity perfume.
I didn’t take my Ambien for a few days after Heath Ledger’s death.
I’ve been eyeing an expensive gold / suede Jimmy Choo handbag.
I have a bad habit of sitting very close to my monitor.
My body starves if I don’t eat junk food at least once a day.
I didn’t read the last book club book, Krakauer’s Under the Banner of Heaven.  I didn’t want to spend money on a book that was so one-sided and anti-religion.  I’m against fundamentalist religion, but don’t be anti-religion and only write about how bad religion is.  Bahooey.
I think my sister is going to have a girl.  I hope so.  Dominic is too rambunctious.
If not this week, then next week I will take a mental health day.  I am burnt out at work.
I would name my son Elijah, my daughter Morgan, and my dog Gatsby.  
I’m not a morning person.

Hopefully No More Sweating

“Go ahead and lay down.  I still have to prepare the syringes.”

I walked over, half-naked, covered by a light blue gown.  I still had the bottom half of my suit on and high-heeled boots.  My dermatologist continued to fill the newly unwrapped syringes with Botox.  I lay there, clutching my hands tightly in prayer.  
Fifteen minutes earlier, the assistant had escorted me to the room.  ”You’re here for Botox, right?  Ok, I’ll be right back.”  She came back with consent forms.  ”Go ahead and sign these.”  
I scanned them quickly, thinking everything would be fine.  The middle of the second paragraph read, “You agree that this procedure is cosmetic and you agree to be charged.”
I looked up quizzically.  ”What charge?  Dr. Miyamoto said last time I saw her that this was covered by my insurance.”
“It’s a cosmetic procedure.  Of course you’ll be charged.”
“How much is the charge?”
“About $500.”
“I’m not signing that!”
“Ok, well, I’ll let Dr. Miyamoto know and you can discuss it with her.”
When Dr. Miyamoto walked in she smiled.  ”Hi Catherine.”  She put my file on the desk and looked at the consent form, shaking her head.  ”You don’t have to fill that form out.  This isn’t cosmetic Botox.”
I figured the pain would be payment enough.  
After preparing the syringes, she took out a blue Sharpie and drew a grid on my right armpit.  The grid looked more like a connect-the-dots puzzle without the numbers.  I looked away, knowing she would insert a needle into every single one of those dots.  The pain wasn’t that bad—definitely bearable—like a sharp, but tiny prick.  If you’ve ever gotten Novocaine injected into your mouth, that’s exactly what this feels like.  Prick, then done.  I was more uncomfortable when she drew the grid on me and tried to wipe away the marker after it was all over; I’m so ticklish!  Frankly, Brazilians are a lot more painful.
“Well, Catherine, hopefully that will last at least six months.  I think it will be longer for you.  You’re a petite girl and we give the same dosage to everyone so you’ve got a lot more of it for your armpit and body size.  But just call me when you feel it’s starting to wear off and we’ll get you back here again.”

Early to Bed, Early to Rise

I worked a twelve hour day today.  I should be working a twelve hour day tomorrow, too, but somehow my calendar popped up with a 9:15am dentist appointment that I can’t cancel because it’s less than 24 hour notice (otherwise I get charged $50) and my Botox appointment at 3pm in the Dermatology department at Kaiser.  It was the first appointment I could get.  Otherwise, I’d have to wait another four weeks.  So I’m going to try to get to bed early, wake up early, and get to work early.  I’m sufficiently liquored up.  This shouldn’t be that hard.

Before I go nighty-night, I encourage everyone to make it a point for the new year (not that the year is new anymore) to review all of your expenses very diligently.  I like to think I’ve been really good with my money, but clearly not.  I called AT&T today to cancel my DSL and home phone line and the customer service represented was appalled because for some reason that she couldn’t figure out, they have been charging me the premium business rate for my DSL line instead of the residential rate which works out to an extra $20 a month.  She said this has been going on for almost two years!  She was being completely straightforward with me and told me I would probably never get my money back because I should have been looking at my bills every month.  Well, I hadn’t because all of it was automatically deducted from my credit card.  And honestly it didn’t occur to me that I was paying $50 versus $30.  I told her to cancel my service, to remove the automatic deduction, and that I simply wouldn’t pay my last bill.  While she couldn’t in good faith tell me dismiss my last bill, she did tell me it was probably the only option I had since I certainly wouldn’t get a refund.
Bahumbug.  I have been flushing money down the toilet all these years!!!  Learn from my mistake.  Scrutinize all of your expenses.

I Love My New Apple MacBook

I am beating myself up for having shitty computing technology for the past decade.  All that stuff was crap.  I brought my MacBook home tonight after Dominic’s birthday celebration and TA-DA, it was like fucking plug and play.  Plug and play, people.  I can cancel my internet service and home phone line which has cost me about $60/month because this laptop picks up every wireless network known to man.  I am stoked!

I absolutely love this thing.
But one last story before I turn in for the night and the weekend.
So last night at the Apple store, I asked the person who was helping me if there were any discounts, etc.  ”There’s a $100 discount for students, but that’s it.  We really don’t have discounts.”
With that in mind, I went to the Apple store this morning (after bumping into Borat) and asked for the $100 discount.  I always keep my old student IDs handy (both Cal and Chicago).  You never know when you need a student discount at the cinema or museums.  
This guy was ringing me up today and I offered, “Can I show you my student ID?”
“No, I just need to see your driver’s license.”  Fine, I gave it to him.
Then he asked, “What school do you go to?”
“I go to the University of Chicago.”
I’m starting to sweat as he enters all this information into a handheld device.
Then he asks, “Ok, if you could tell me the zip code there.”
I swear to God, I pulled that shit out of the depths of my cerebrum.
“60615.”
“Yup, that’s it.  So, that’ll be $875.25 with your gift certificate.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, but I didn’t stop sweating until I got the hell out of there.  If he had asked me one more question, I would have confessed.  ”I lied.  I’m sorry, I lied.  You got me.  Just charge the full amount.”
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