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Friday, December 08, 2006

sleeping with dirty dishes

It's amazing how 11 hours of sleep can make a girl feel, crap.
Possible theories for exhaustion:

1. am getting sick
2. am allergic to something (isn't everything dead?)
3. am slowly, incrementally, lapsing into a coma.

But, reading dooce's post about her hatemail made me feel better about my own ongoing nasty phone calls that usually end with someone snorting or cursing in derision before hanging up (I really need to refer these calls to other people. I have the singular ability to make angry people even more angry)
Also, just ran into a waiter friend in the middle of a hectic shift who sidled up to me and asked if it would be wrong to tell an old and mean customer that he (the customer) was going to die soon.
So, news flash, no matter where you work, you will encounter assholes. Unless, of course, you work in Canada.
I am off, I believe, in a few to the PE sound check, courtesy of our music writer, who is bringing me along as his camera(wo)man. Then tonight's our SFR staff holiday party, complete with Secret Santa gift exchange (which I organize every year in order to complete my quota of Ironic Gestures for the year.
But I'll be working this weekend so perhaps I'll check back in. Not that you'll notice, you, you, you, people who only read my blog during the workweek.
I get it. And, actually, for the 30 or so of you who stick it out on the weekends, I apologize for my lack of posting. I could lie and say it's cuz I'm out having a life but, well, we all know that ain't true.