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I got all mixed up and started including Smurfs.

Issue Date: Friday, Oct. 15, 2004

Yesterday afternoon I got to have lunch with Erica and Wendy.It was, as always ladies, a pleasure. We all got there at roughly the same time and all started talking immediately.

Now, as a bit of background, Erica, Mister and I have all been to dinner and a movie before. As a matter of fact, the three of us went to see Garden State back when it came out.

A moment for the Zach Braff love.


Anyway, during the dinner with Erica, Mister and myself, Erica said something that was a very profound view into her psyche for me, she said “I am absolutely terrified of silence.” And so we let her fill up the silence with chatter. She’s a very bright and intelligent young woman and her chatter is always entertaining and topical. Pssst, she’s a hardcore Democrat that can’t believe that I’m a Republican who likes Bush in the least. It freaks her shit in more ways than one.

Yesterday, when we all got to lunch and started talking at once. Wendy who is a very sweet young lady and not as pushy as Erica or I… turned to us and said, “May I have my crisis now?” It was a beautiful moment. Huzzah! Erica and I shut up for at least three seconds each (maybe four) and let Wendy talk.

I kid. We gave her at least a full minute.

I was telling Mister about it after lunch and he said, “Isn’t it sad that she had to do that though?” I countered with, “Certainly not. It’s great that she felt comfortable enough to do so.”

So far every night this week I have been able to sleep quite comfortably. Being in the house alone has not affected my sleep as much as I thought it would have. I haven’t been (that) nervous and fretful going to sleep each night and overall I think I have done pretty well.

I have had a few moments of, [GASP!] “What’s that noise!? Is something coming up the stairs to devour me in its gaping maw?”

And I will hold my breath for a few moments until the cat comes bounding into my room with a “mrow?” and then I breathe again.

So, yeah… whether it’s the mass amounts of booze, drugs or what, I can tell you right now… they are really working.

I kid.

Sort of.

I have been taking a Sonata™ just about every night this week to help me sleep. Last night? Yeah, not so much.

I decided to take my normal migraine medication and to skip the Sonata™.

My night went like this: got off of work at 4:30pm, went home, took a 30 minute cat nap because the day wore my ass OUT (staff meetings and what have you)… got up and ate a tacquito(sp?) and some raspberry yogurt, went to bible study from 7 to 8, called Erica, met her in Richardson for sushi (let her eat while I jabbered and filled the silences so she wouldn’t feel like she had to… see above), left at 10 something, got home at 10:45, in bed by 11pm.

By 12:15 I was trying to remember the names of the reindeer as recommended by Sheryl in a comment from yesterday. I got all mixed up and started including Smurfs. Somehow that struck me as totally funny and I barked laughter causing the cat to launch about six feet in the air. He knocked something off of the dresser on the way out of the room (read: careening around the door jamb)… something that happened to be in a crinkly bag.

A crinkly bag that was given a life of it’s own by the baby box fan at approximately 1:07 am.

That scared the ever-livin shit out of me.

I tossed and turned all night.

I had night sweats. Sexy. I know. You want me right? Uggggh, gross. My hair was wet. My chest was wet. My pillow was wet.

I was up and down, in and out of bed either every 20 or every 40 minutes. And for some reason, the cat decided that he was allowed onto the bed… no less than THREE times last night. I don’t know if he was going off of my stress and trying to comfort me? Or if he was just pushing boundaries because daddy ain’t home.

No clue what my problem was.

But I’ll be mainlining coffee today, that’s for sure.

Oh, and I get to meet with Stacey the possum slayer for a pedicure after work this afternoon! Woot!

Oh, and after the sushi thing with Erica last night, we were standing outside the restaurant chatting before getting in our respective cars (hollah … anal mystique!) and she told me that I have a Texas accent. Hmmmph.

Actually, we were talking about overcoming her hard A’s in the accent when coming from Ohio and I asked her if I had a Texas accent. She almost fell over she was laughing so hard… and I’m not even exaggerating a little bit. She almost fell off of her little size 5 Steve Maddens onto the sidewalk. (I’m guessing on the size of her shoe, I just know she’s a tiny little thing… Wendy too… I call them the pumpkins.)

What I am posing is this, if you know me, and you have heard my voice… and you are not from Texas yourself… (if you are from Texas, you are biased… sorry) please leave me a comment and let me know if you think I have a Texas accent.

Just curious.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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