Friday was supposed to be payday but it wasn't. The boss said payroll didn't arrive w/ FedEx because the plane had mechanical problems. It probably wouldn't arrive until tomorrow, which is useless to me since the office is closed. Boss hands me a print-out of the tracking# status.
I look at it. It says something about Airplane/Mechanical delay. Apparently my paycheck has to pass through Boston and Buffalo and a lot of other places I don't live before it gets here. Maybe the plane fell apart in mid-flight and my paycheck is scattered over three or four northeastern counties.
"What am I supposed to do with this", I ask my boss, "tear off little pieces of it and use them for I.O.U's ? 'Here you go- I'll pay you for the groceries as soon as I get my check-see, I got a fucking tracking #, so you know I'm good for it' ..."
Shit. I shouldn't have said that. It's not his fault. I actually like my boss, so I shouldn't yell at him, but I'm pissed. This is my fourth paycheck at this job and the second time that it's been fucked up. When is my direct deposit going into effect?
I had planned on buying lunch today, but I've got nothing to my name except a bus token. They're having some kind of reception or something downstairs, but by the time I find it there's nothing left but cheesecake, chocolate, tea and coffee.
I know that sounds good, but my newly-repaired innards can't handle a meal comprised of nothing but sugar, tannic acid and fat.
By the time I get home, I'm having pretty bad stomach pains, which starts me on a panic attack. I'm convinced that any second now, I'm going to start vomiting blood. I pop a bagel in the toaster and notice that my hand is shaking. I'm scared. No more hospital, I think. I can't go through this again so soon.
After some soup and a bagel , I feel a lot better. No blood, I just needed some food is all. Whew!
I eat everything that isn't labelled 9-Lives. I'm hungry.
I wind up eating nearly an entire jar of peanut butter for dessert.
I'd better get some rest-I've got a lot to do tomorrow.
Tomorrow arrives, becomes today.
I was supposed to meet and train a volunteer at the station, but they don't show up, call or email.
That's OK, I've got some work to do until our musical guest arrives.
The DJ tells me the band just called and cancelled.
No problem, I've got a dinner date tonight, so getting out of the studio early is good.
At home the phone rings. My date!
She has to go to her sister's house tonight because it's her nephew's birthday party.
Ok, so let's just go out later and have some coffee , maybe catch a band or a late movie.
Oh. A kid's party lasts that late?
How about next weekend?
What? You're seeing who? Since when? Yesterday, "officially"?
What the hell does "officially" mean, anyway? no... don't answer that.
Why'd you ask me out?
You weren't sure...great I just love being 'Plan B'...I'm sorry , I didn't mean...
No, no I'm not mad. It's really OK, you didn't hurt my feelings...of course I still like you...I'm happy for you.
Everything's cool. See you around, 'bye.
I'm such a fucking liar. I'm really angry and my feelings are quite hurt. I really don't like her new "official" boy and I'm not sure I still like her. I didn't expect this from her, not at all.
I'm not the slightest bit happy for her.
What to do? I guess I'll buy some food, since I ate everything in the house last night. Oh , wait. I'm broke. I didn't get paid yesterday.
Hey! I still have the cash I set aside for my date.
At the market I'm in in the frozen pizza aisle when I hear a familiar voice.
"Yoo hoo! Hey sailor, c'mon over!"
I turn around and there it is. Beer. Lots and lots of Beer. Winking leering Beer.
Demon bottles and devil cans.
Filler of Voids, Mother's Milk of Foamy Oblivion.
Beer.
One won't kill me, but six might.
Twelve would.
Let's look at it for a long time and have some unpleasant thoughts.
I wonder if this is how my uncle Steve felt right before he shot himself.
I hope not, because nothing that's happened recently is worth killing myself over. Not even close.
Whatever Steve's reasons were, they aren't mine.
I turn my back on Beer. I feel sick just thinking about the taste of Beer.
Hello, frozen pizza.
Maybe tomorrow I'll watch some football and eat leftover pizza. That wouldn't be so bad.
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