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pretending to care since 1977

Wednesday, July 16, 2003

Decisions  

I have show tonight. Not a "gig", as I pointed out to a friend of mine, because that would imply that we are getting paid, which we aren't. So the show is like a half hour up the coast from my house, which presents a problem. Since I have yet to re-new my plates on my about-to-be-repo'ed car, I am concerned about drinking a beer or two during the show for fear of being pulled over on the way home. Not that I need to drink to play, but I am less critical of my mistakes if I have a drink or two and less aware of people staring at my boobs jiggling while I am strumming my bass. I do have Rx for Xanax I could take, but I haven't played a show yet while on that stuff. Could be very, very wrong. Or very, very AWESOME.

Hmm. Why am I so nervous for tonight? Oh wait. I know. Maybe it's because we haven't PRACTICED SINCE OUR LAST SHOW. We are going to fucking suck tonight.

Good times.

Saturday, July 12, 2003

I'm a Loner, Dottie. A Rebel. 

So I got a "pay or quit" pre-eviction notice today.

I am kind of excited because this is my first one! I am, however, kind of bummed that it wasn't nailed to my door all menacing-like and shit. It was simply neatly addressed to me in a fancy business envelope. Oh well.

It's so awesome that I have three days to pay or I will get the boot. I totally feel like I am in some rad action movie where I have to figure out which wire to cut before the bomb goes off or hack into the bad guy's computer to save the world. No wait. It's more like a scavenger hunt at camp and we only have to find three more items on our list in order to beat our rival cabin!

Nothing like a little pressure to bring the winner out in me. Now, I hope you will all excuse me, I have some jewelry to pawn.

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

Damn. 

I've got nothin'.

Absolutely nothing to talk about. Okay, I'm lying. I have a lot to say, but I am too lazy to formulate a coherent post. No, not lazy, just tired. No, not tired, just bored.

Tuesday, July 01, 2003

Ich Bin Eine Pussy 

Since like forever I have always wanted to teach English in another country. My sister lived in Japan once and I visited her twice in a six month period. I fell in love with that country. The efficiency and cleanliness of the place alone was enough for me to return home to the States morbidly depressed. I totally dyed my hair black and moped around for like two weeks moaning and crying about not being able to buy hot coffee in a can or beer from a vending machine. Like, where else can you go to some Gremlin-esque shady ass pet store to look at monkeys? I promise you some of the best moments I have ever had took place in Yokosuka, Japan.

I am graduating college soon. I should have totally graduated months ago, but I really needed another fat financial aid check before I finish because I spent last quarter's check on books. And by books, I mean a bass amp. I have looked into career options relative to my major and it's not looking good. Japan is looking more and more like the perfect plan, especially since Alex and I worked things out and we can go on as usual. But there is a problem. I can't ever fly again.

One time I was on a plane that almost crashed. We're talking, 747-losing-an-engine-letting-fuel-out-in-the-air-get-into-crash-positions-news-cameras-at-the-gate kind of situation. Very scary. I was only 13 and I was flying alone. To this day, hearing the songs "Right Here Waiting For You" and "Buffalo Stance" make me shake in fear. They also make me remember the mix-tape that I was listening to on that flight.

I eventually got over that horrible experience. I had to, I wanted to go to Europe and Japan and visit friends and family across the US. Every flight I took I became less and less scared. I was a champ going over seas. But after September 11th happened, there was no turning back. The deal was sealed. I even tried to fight it, you know the whole "the terrorists win" crap, but as I flew to visit my brothers in Chicago and nearly died of a heart attack every time someone got up from their seat, I knew it was over.

Pictures of planes cause my heart to race. Hearing some one talk about flying makes me want to puke. I was watching Seinfeld the other day and they were on a plane and I had to change the channel.

What the fuck am I going to do? I can't be a prisoner to this fear, but I am lost for a solution. I must get to Japan so I can get free packages of tissues at the subway.




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