Very early hours of the morning. This morning. Can't sleep. Doze. Coupla hours in bad dream. At work. Tornado sirens blaring. Only it isn't a tornado. Is a hurricane coming. (Yes, a hurricane, in Kansas, it's a dream, doesn't hafta make sense.) No time to board up the windows. Wind is gonna blow all the glass in. Any minute now. Dark. Middle of the night. Hotel full of people sleeping. Power is out. Can't find a flashlight. Can't see. Time is running out. Have to get everyone away from the windows. Phones are dead. Am yelling and yelling. And no one can hear. Louder. Louder. Yelling. But I can't make myself loud enough. No one can hear. Have to get everyone where it is safe and just can't make myself heard.

So much for sleep, eh?

7 Different Styles!

As I often write here, I most days roll to work looking a mess. A mess. For instance last night I rolled outta bed and just went with it. Didn't even take a shower for God's sake. Not cute.

And this morning the guy who delivers the newspapers is all up in my shit. What's that about?

Lemme tell ya.

Guys aren't really concerned about what you look like all dolled up. In fact, when you look like a rumpled mess it just makes it all that easier for them to envision the thing they are really concerned about: How your ass is gonna look naked in their bed.

That's my new theory anyway.

What else...

Things are snowballing as school approaches. Feeling really unprepared.

Last week was a virtual pin cushion for immunizations and a TB test. Physical. (Nothing quite like paying to get felt up.) No communicable diseases to speak of.

Also got the results of my background check. Seems I am not on the FBI most wanted list or anything of the like. They must not yet be wise to my elaborate 6 state string of pickpocketing disguised as seduction. (They all gave me their credit card numbers...honest.)

Sister heads back to school soon. Thumbs down. (Well, thumbs up for her, thumbs down for me. Selfish bitch that I am.)

That should about do it.

Anyone up for a game of croquet?

Out the door. 7 am. 2 member fat girl fan club right out front.

"103 today, boys."

Peeling off shirt. Little tank top underneath.

"You going home? Must be going home. You look awfully happy."

"Better believe it."

"What's up with that?"

"What's up with what?"

"You. Leaving. Thought you were coming home with us."

That would be dismissive laughter you hear following that. Thanks for asking though. Never hurts to try, I suppose.

And really, can't say as I blame you.

I'd wanna take me home to.

Sister and I finished our route today in the amazingly hip and happening big ass school van. The humidity is such that the air could at any moment take on a solid form and suffocate us all. Fat girl is not happy. Too little sleep, too much heat. And joy of joys it's my very favorite week of the month. I am grumbling under my breath about my stupid doctor's appointment that I thought was at 1, but is really at 2. Which means I get to kill an hour trying to stay awake. Then floating in from somewhere close by every little kids favorite sound...ice cream truck music. Fuck yes. Sister and I are diggin' in our purses like a coupla fiends. That little cup of overpriced chocolate ice cream that is all nostalgia and of questionable quality, bought from a slightly creepy old man and eaten with a tongue depresser masquerading as a wooden spoon, quite possible kept someone from being killed today. And me outta the pen. Word to the ice cream man.

Hot.

Hotter.

Hottest.

Recipe for Corporate Whoring

Naked Orange Mango Motion + Absolut Citron = Screwdriver Heaven

Athenos Roasted Red Pepper Hummus + toasted flat bread and baby carrots = Snacking Good Times (The hummus I try and make sucks, without fail, every single time. But this shit is pretty good, and I'm lazy, so what the hell.)

Hippie Lube + Trusty Waterproof Vibrator = You may never need a man again. Unless you happen to find one with a very clever tongue. In which case all bets are off.

That should about do it.

Pack all of the above and show up on my front porch and you may never see the light of day again.

Got to work the better part of a 2nd shift at ghetto hotel 'cross the way today.

Lady comes in, probably mid-late fifties. Perfectly coiffed, beauty shop short do. Little Texas town twang. Keds to match her t-shirt.

Here as the secretary for some oil drilling crew. Lord knows what they are all doing.

Pulls a fat stack of benji's outta the purse. Starts peeling them off to pay her $2500 bill.

For your reading pleasure, convo of the day.

"Doesn't it make you nervous carrying all that cash around?"

"Oh, honey, an old lady like me? Not at all."

"Hmmm. I guess you are from Texas aren't you..."

Strange what's that got to do with anything look.

"so you've probably got a sidearm in the passenger seat of your car anyway."

That's funny 'cause it's true and we both know it laughter.

My crazy ex-MIL will be in town at anytime now. So I am in hiding a la witness protection. Don't divulge my location or you'll be sorry.

Have been training the new night girl at work. Last night she thought it would be hilarious to go into the housekeeping room and see if I fit in the dryer. So since at 3 am it's pretty easy to convince me to do just about anything, I obliged.

Normal sized people are so easily entertained.

In related people I work with news New Boy seemed terribly flustered at shift change last night.

"I think I got this figured out, but I'm not sure."

"Well, if you fucked a bunch of shit up and it takes me all night to fix it I'm gonna be pissed."

"I know."

"And then I'll have to hurt you. Remember how I'm a bitch?"

"Oh, I remember. I don't think anyone who's met you could forget."

Brings a little tear of joy to the corner of my eye.

Was today informed by a dear friend that if you wanna break somebody, skip the drugs and torture and go straight for the sleep deprivation. Makes sense. And makes me feel better about being so miserable after three or four days of chasing sleep only to capture it in one and two hour spurts. Less like a whiny punk. Have been on the verge of tears for the last day and a half or so due to being so damn tired. Finished gathering up the last of ex's things today as someone is supposed to be here to pick it up tomorrow. (Not him, praise be to the god of small blessings.) Came home. Was changing into a raggedy old t-shirt to try and sleep. Caught the corner of some furniture. One of those sharp edges that lands right above the knee. Normally would result in a slew of curse words, not much else. Today resulted in collapsing in a naked, hysterical heap on the floor. Dragged myself into bed after some minutes. The cat curled up on my chest and licked my hand while I sobbed myself to sleep. Slept for some hours. Woke up briefly to use the bathroom and for a quick Cuntylicious phone consult. Passed back out. Now after five hours of decent sleep it is strange how intense it all seemed. Feeling amazingly emotionally stable now. Gonna work out. Have dinner. Go to work. Tomorrow is free and clear for sleep, lazing in the sun, errands, and so on and so forth. Squeeze the last little bit of leisure outta summer vacation. Let's have a picnic. Wanna?

Almost forgot

Song lyric of the day: Show me to the subway, I'll go down.

Yes it means what you think it does.

Don't try and pretend you don't like it.

And, well, if ya really don't...I'll take your share...

How is it July already? Shit. Time going by too quickly. It's Saturday and mine is getting eaten up by laundry. How do two people make so much of it and how do I always get stuck doing it all? Interesting. And since I'm asking questions how come I have to run into the one person currently residing in the state of Kansas who I've slept with when I'm at the store? (The notorious, rebound, Lame Sex Boy, from months back...some of you are familiar.) Our contest to see who can be the shittiest continues with me seeing him see me and very deliberately going in the other direction. So that would make it heartless bitch 4, semi-psychotic LSB 0. Surprise, surprise. Brother's birthday is on Monday. Get excited. Will perhaps convince Sister to trek there tomorrow to deliver birthday offerings. (As they are not of the nature one would entrust to the US Postal Service...) And of course, one can't forget the 4th of July. Which in these parts means everyone must fulfill their patriotic duty to drink too much cheap, nasty beer and annoy the shit out of me with loud ass fireworks. Get even more excited. What are you up to?