Friday, June 02, 2006

Things to do at a gay wedding weekend.

- As previously reported, my best friend Lupo is getting married - yes, it's a legal, actual marriage - to his boyfriend Kenn in Northampton this weekend, and, thanks to funding from my mother and a prostitute friend, I'm going to be in attendance. If I'm able to find an Internet connection anywhere and can find any inspiration in the proceedings, which I should because the days will likely be filled with true love and alcohol, I will buckle down and blog for you guys. Karaoke is planned. I've been invited to give a toast. And Lupo's gonna wear some cool new clothes. So, for the first time in a while, expect something from me.
- During a meeting in the conference room of my office wherein we discussed another change of our daily work schedule, something that happens every three months, I looked out the window and contemplated hurling myself and my wheeled office chair down three floors. I think it's time I leave that damn place. Last week, a co-worker essentially yelled at me for not being a good worker, called me into a meeting with a manager and then started crying when the manager suggested she'd gone too far. Since that confrontation, I've been advised by management to "let it go, forget it happened and continue to improve the work I've been doing." I should let it go. I should let it go.
- I had a date with a guy last weekend, and I actually had a lot of fun with him. Given my luck at spending time with people I actually enjoy, of course, I'm still waiting for him to call me. It's only been two days since I tried to initiate a phone call, so it's still reasonable that he'll call me. Tell me that again on Saturday when he still hasn't called. Like the last one. I shouldn't write that, for he might read it. But nobody's been reading this lately.
- I didn't end up going to XPT this year, for I was busy having some sort of breakdown. Nonetheless, I'm sure that the guys down at the Center for Puppetry Arts put on an excellent show.

- My friend Emily Giffin's new book, BABY PROOF, is excellent, and it comes out in bookstores on June 13. Seriously, if you like smart chick lit, check it out. I'm going to the official book release party. Yay!
- The bookstore has cut back my hours in June to one day a week, even though I'm considered a very good salesman by management and co-workers. They say it's not personal. I'm the one music seller with another income, and other people need the paychecks. I depend upon my supplemental bookstore paycheck, but I can make it work. Hard times.
- I have to figure out where else I should send the essay that the Oxford American rejected. I haven't written anything new in ages.
- I turn 30 in less than three weeks.
- I've been listening to Sia, The Fray, the Matthew Sweet-Susannah Hoffs cover album, the soundtrack to WICKED and some songs by Macy Gray lately.
- I have to go pack. And find my way back to the laundromat sometime tomorrow in between my two jobs.
- I've had an odd cold for over a week now, and some odd bruise has arrived on my forehead.
- I can't believe I just wrote all this. I'm fine, really. I think I just really, really, really, really need a vacation from my annoying job (which I now do without distractions like the Web or such for hours and hours and hours), from my empty apartment, from my messy car, from my prostitute friend, from Memorial Day barbecues where my stepbrother tries talking to me like he doesn't know why I avoid him.
- Miss Gibson was in Atlanta this weekend, spreading beauty, joy and culture to all who encountered her. I miss London, which I only saw for a week but would love to see again.
- I'm going to go watch BUFFY episodes. Both parts of "Becoming" may cheer me up.

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