I’m drunk at home. Alone. I killed a bottle of port from the Provenance winery in Napa. If that doesn’t make me an alcoholic, I don’t know what does. I wanted a little somethin somethin. Headed to Hayes Valley only to find that Citizen Cake was closed for the night. No chocolate chip cookie for this girl. So I came home, tossed five pieces of black clothing into the dryer with a sheet of Dryel, and opened up a bottle. That’s right. I drank the whole bottle and I’m going to swallow a pill of Ambien before I go to bed to ensure I don’t wake up in the middle of the night. I’m sad to admit that I didn’t sleep last night even though I had an Ambien because I was so caffeinated. Four pots of tea, five diet cokes. No wonder the Ambien didn’t do it’s duty.
Did I mention that I got a $60 parking ticket? I left work to find a fucking parking ticket on my car! Our security guard, such a sweet sincere guy, came out and consoled me with his own story. He had gotten the same parking ticket a few weeks ago. ONLY ONE SIDE OF THE STREET HAS PARKING ON SUNDAY AND I WAS PARKED ON THE OTHER FUCKING SIDE. I swear to God there were a bunch of cars all lined up and we all had parking tickets. Damn San Francisco.
The only highlight of my weekend was going to Bar Bambino and Farina with Marc, my gay as a pink ballet tutu ‘husband.’ Two frigging Italian restaurants within the span of three hours. So catty, Marc couldn’t stop making fun of our short Mexican valet who had a bit of a leg problem. Looks like he was born with it or something, but he walked/ran with his right leg bent in. Marc chided, “Look at him go, poor thing. He takes one step forward and half a step at a 90 degree angle. You’d think he’d have a desk job, but no, he’s fetching my Range Rover as a valet. It’s hard to find good people these days.” Well we get into Marc’s Ranger Rover and the car wouldn’t stop BEEPING! I almost peed in my pants, it was so fucking funny. Marc was like, “What the fuck is that beeping? That mother fucker messed up my car!” I swear to God, I was clutching my tummy and rolling down into my seat, I couldn’t stop laughing it was so funny.”
But I pretty much stayed in this weekend, didn’t get out which is going to make me loony. By mid-week, watch out, I will be on edge. Random thought, but I just want to apologize to all those people out there who I’ve made fun of for working so hard. At least you’re not lazy! At least you care about producing quality work. This weekend, I got out and sat with my work in a cafe and I can’t tell you how many people gave me shit. “Hmmmphhhh, working. Such a shame. Why don’t you just enjoy the weekend? Why do you have to work?” After the fifth person, I almost had a conniption. MIND YOUR OWN DAMN FUCKING BUSINESS, YOU SHIT! Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I really want to sit here with my financial statements. I would rather be reading the Sunday funnies, but no. I do this because I care. I do this because I don’t do a half-ass job like you do, you blue-collar shit. Leave me alone. Argh.
I’m about to open up another bottle, but no, I will refrain. I will take my ‘dry-cleaning’ out of the dryer, pop an Ambien, and sleep peacefully.