22 September 2010

rolling through the motions

i'm lying in bed with my puppy, reflecting on the retarded day i've had, and trying to figure out how i'm going to spend my 22 hours in paris in a coupla weeks (we'll get to this in a minute).

today was one of those hazey days where i really do have to stop and ask myself whose life i'm living. as is typical for me, i had to claw my way out of bed, went through the usual morning routine (sans the clothes drama that typically robs me of half of the day's allotment of sanity), and blinked to find myself changing trains. i even took that metro paper the dudes pass out every morning. i didn't remember taking it, didn't look at it, but found it in my hand when someone was holding starbuck's door open for me even though i wasn't stopping there.

almost every morning i drop about three bucks at starbucks for an iced grande coffee in a venti cup with extra ice, but this morning i woke up with a scratchy throat so i planned to sip on green tea at the office all morning. but after the blink and wake at galleryplace to change trains, i blinked again to get out of the starbucks line. i'd love to blame it on a grand bout of daydreaming, but what about?

that it's yet again over 90 degrees in the district? that i'm not going to see my boyfriend for six weeks? that i was setting off to another day of utter hell at the day job?

i mean, i was granted the privilege of spending almost 12 hours at the office, for the second day in a row, wanting to tear my hair out. even landed myself a new project today, as though the fact that i'm already herding four fields of cats isn't enough. and now i'm fighting back my new favorite indoor sport of crying myself to sleep by thinking about my paris. and what i will do with those 22 hours...


20 September 2010

with my bitch en tow

i took miss scarlet home with me last weekend, and brought her back to the district with me this morning. on a plane.


first off, anyone who frequents these steps knows that my puppy is as bratty as her mommy. we are equally as cute, cuddly, fun, and pain in the ass. it's part of our charm. we embrace it with the same pizzazz. we are two peas in a pod.

but unlike miss scarlet, i don't cry, whine, bark, and act generally like a big asshole on an airplane. to be fair to her, though, i'm not stuffed into a little red box and pushed underneath the seat either. imagine my embarrassment at being the jackass with the screaming baby on the plane? and i couldn't hide it. those loud whines and barks were clearly coming from the bouncing red box underneath my seat.

fortunately, the flight attendants (both coming and going) took mercy on me, and allowed miss scarlet out of the little red box and onto my lap (where she squirmed, turned, and refused to let me sleep), with the caveat that i claim to any complaining passenger that i needed her in my lap for emotional support.

thing is, it wouldn't've been a lie. for her crying, whining, and barking was more stressful than any plane ride that gave me the jeebies.

and whilst i likely claim now that i'll never take her on the plane with me again, i'll be bettin' that anytime i go home to see my love or visit my family (which fortunately i get to do on the same trips) for more than a day or two, my bitch'll be en tow.