Thursday, February 02, 2006

Fuck You, I'm Drunk

If the Windows Media Player update hadn't totally fucked my ability to play any of the music stored on my computer, and if my CD burner would consent to actually burn a CD without crashing the entire goddamn noisy box, that is the Irish drinking song I'd be listening to right now.

I'm not actually drunk. I've had the better part of a Mike's Hard Lemonade and a really rough day, though, so the first part is accurate even if the second isn't.

Went to work today, my first real, counting-toward-quota day, which also happened to be a day when I take an hour lunch and sacrifice my breaks so I can go see my shrink. That part was good -- managed to time it perfectly so I wasn't even late getting back, even though the doctor was late seeing me. But working first five, and then the better part of three, hours without a chance to smoke a cigarette is not entirely conducive to my mental health. Nor was the TDOT choice to put up a sign announcing the closure of a major exit that not only didn't indicate the proper closure dates, but also was situated after the last possible turnoff. Reeeal smart. Now that they are working on the best Way Out of Town During Rush Hour at their customary leisurely pace, traffic is going to suck even more than it usually does for a while. I'm tempted to make some kind of "I shalt not leave town between five and six PM" vow, but I doubt I'd make it even a week with that restriction.

I had to fight the traffic instead of taking my usual "cut across a lot of small-to-major roads" path towards my own place, because after my Day Job is done, my Other Job(s) kick in. I went to the Boss' house to clean, which didn't get finished and will necessitate another trip. That part is OK, as he is supposed to help me design and build a kneeler for the shrine, which we couldn't do today as he had "religious programming" to watch (E-Ring, that show that comes on after it about FBI behavioral analysts, and the first twenty minutes of the Jon Stewart show) and we had to go over my accounts for January, anyway. It took me almost 2 hours to get there due to traffic bullshit and fast-food slowness, which sucked, but we ate KFC and watched TV and I did the light cleaning and for a while all was jolly, or at least full of grease'n'biscuits.

However, as the hour greweth late, the blue funk which has been threatening to settle for a few days decided that it had found its moment. The Boss tends to be my semi-avuncular figure in such matters; he combines compassion and logic in such a weird way that I can usually take him my problems in full confidence that I will come away, if not with resolution, at least with Things to Think About.

Periodically when I am full of discontent, the Boss ends up staying up with me, talking noise, until I am too tired to spew any more "Fuck this, fuck the cops, fuck this fucking fucker, it's fucked", having imparted some anecdotes and words of wisdom whenever he could get a word in edgewise, at which point I either crash out on his incredibly comfy futon or drive home. Tonight it had to be the latter option, as I should have been in bed at least two and probably three hours ago. I sang Ani DiFranco songs and most of the 30th anniversary version of Alice's Restaurant to keep myself awake.

Before I even put down my purse upon arriving back at the Parcepartment, the key turned in the lock, and it was the Artist and GoddessA, who had been calling me repeatedly on the land line for the 45 minutes I was on the road and had finally decided to come over and see what the hell was wrong with me, or barring that, if the roommates knew where I was and why I hadn't talked to anyone since seven when I had expected to be back in town by eleven. They stayed for a moment, then rolled out, but by the time I had locked them out, the furious desire for sleep that had been induced by the drive up Highway 109 and down I-40 had been banished, so I got a beer and decided to post an essentially content-free entry about what I did today. I was going to rehash my blue funk and the reasons why I was spewing obscenities earlier, but now that the mood has passed, it would be no more interesting than what you've already read.

Refer back to the title. I'm going to go to bed and hopefully wake up more human and less crabby.


At 9:20 AM, Blogger Lady A said...

*hugs* Blue funks suck. Almost as badly as Nashville traffic. Hope you feel better! (the Tao is coming!!)

At 12:32 PM, Blogger GoddessAradia said...

Ellington!!!!!!! It's Ellington isn't it!!!!!! GAHHHHH FUCKERS!!!!!!!!!! My little entourage headed to my dads a few days ago between the evil hours of 5-6 and Ellington is the best detour around traffic....

But NOOO!!!, They had to be FUCKIN STUPID and put the "Ramp Closed as of Jan 31st" sign on the exit ramp in such a way that you couldn't see it until WEELLLLL beyond the turning point.


lovies Parce!

At 11:47 PM, Blogger parcequilfaut said...

For fucking real. Ellington was the last non-fucked-up, non-traffic-congested road left in Nashville that actually went somewhere else.



Post a Comment

<< Home