It's a little bit funny...
Guess where I'm going tomorrow night! That's right, I'm going to see my Pretend Famous Singer/Songwriter Gay Father, Elton John. (I put a small pic up, but if it fucks up the layout, let me know. Since dland is stupid and does that now. Bastard).
OMG, how could I put such ugliness into the same paragraph as my Pretend Gay Daddy? For shame.
Anyway. I'll be bringing tissues, since we are in the balcony and that looks like a pretty high altitude. But I think the view will be a bit better than when we had floor seats last year. And besides, most importantly? I want to HEAR. So as long as I can hear, I'm all set.
I don't know what's wrong with me lately, but I just have not been able to get up in the morning. I haven't gotten out of bed before 6:45 for the past three mornings, and at that point, I'm forcing myself. I feel fatigued like if I was pregnant. Which I know I'm not, so let's not even speculate. Remember the Hubster has been clipped. But good. Anyway, yeah, waking at 6:45 doesn't sound so bad, but I like to be out of the shower by 6:15, so I'm slacking.
It doesn't help that this morning I had a terrible dream. It was awful. I'll make it quick, I know dream entries with too many details can cause one to skim that paragraph. Anyway, me and the kids somehow ended up in this brutal "communist" country (ah, remember I was but a child when the Cold War was still all the rage), and we had no home, no car, no food, and we were just wandering around. And this place is so that if you happen to wander into the wrong place, you're going to get shot and killed on sight. It was awful. I kept thinking to myself in the dream, "I can't wait to wake up, I can't wait until this horrible dream is over".
I hate that. I hate when sleeping is not that relaxing. I'm going to remember that dream forever. Kinda like the one I had back in 2000, when I was working at Fidelity. Fidelity was like four exits up the highway from where I had Minnie in daycare and where Beavis was in school. Well, in the dream, there was some kind of huge disaster (of 9/11 or Katrina proportions) going on, and we had to evacuate, and I got on the highway and traffic was going nowhere. I was getting so stressed, thinking of my kids being without me during this huge disaster and how I'd never see them again. Ugh. It was terrible. I still remember how helpless I felt during that dream.
Anyway. Aside from not being able to get up in the morning, my feet have been killing me. What's up with that? They always want a massage. My idea of a foot massage is to have them squeezed. Hub usually does it for me, but he doesn't always do it right (ie; he'll pull on my toes, which I HATE), so I'll do it myself. Not the same. I finally thought of one thing I'd like for my birthday and that's one of those tubby foot massager things. I've wanted one forever, and when I was at Brooks last night I saw that they're only $19.99 for one with heat, vibrate AND bubbles. Bubbles! Whoo!
Yeah. My birfday is Monday. Whoopee fucking doo. I'm officially going to be old. 35. Can you say "approaching middle age"? Can you say "still wants to be 25"? I'm happy that people still think I'm about 27, but still. I've never had a tough time with any birthday before. But I am sure am not digging this one.
And of course, this is the one that everybody is remembering. Ten years ago, I lived for my birthday. I'd tell everyone for weeks that it was coming up. I wanted to party like it was 1999. I wanted everybody and their brother to celebrate my birthday. Of course, that didn't happen. Now? I'd like to ignore it, and people keep fucking reminding me. I say, all I want is a camera and tickets to see Elton John and I have both, so I'm all set. Nope, my dad will be over Monday with my present, and damn Beavis keeps talking about it, too. And Hub. He said he's gonna get me what he wants to get me and that's that. Shut up about what he spends. Fine.
Beavis. Has poison ivy on his fucking face again. WTF? It's not too bad, and due to his past experiences with poison ivy, we are stocked in the house: benadryl, fels-naphtha soap and hydrocortisone. I feared he might have to go for steroids (as he had to the last two times he got it on his face--yeah, he's a frickin' piece of work, and you should have seen him the last time it was on his face, he'd fallen face first into it and looked like an alien! Oh how I'd wish I'd had a camera back then...), but so far he seems okay. Except he's a bit bitchy. Miserable shit when he's in pain. Typical male. ;)
Anyway, Napster is telling me to shut down other software to burn my CD (EJ tunes, of course), so I must go now. Then I'm going to Nina's for a few, out to do errands and then I should be back to catch up on some dland (and "other" blog sites, now that I have expanded my horizons since people are leaving dland in droves) reading.
Ciao!