rock and roll and a case of the sundays

please excuse me while it has taken me two days to re-gain my sense of humor after another paralyzingly depressing sunday.

i hate sundays. if prozac worked this way, i would take it only on sundays. just to keep that heady, heavy, unbearable, tears behind my eyes, holding my breath, what am i doing with my life, ive never felt so alone, depression away. its normally not until tuesday afternoon that the haze clears.

at least this one started with two bloody marys at my favorite homosexual hot spot with one of my favorite friends where the waiters are totally hot and totally not interested in women (or good service). which makes it a perfectly appropriate place for a post-game re-cap with friends. this crowd certainly doesn't judge when you show up wearing last nights make-up, bedhead, and very large sunglasses, indoors. it is also rolling distance from my new place. which makes it so ideal.

the rest of the day was spent on the couch, calling as many friends as i could, trying to get someone to say they wanted to hang out with me - they didnt - and nursing a, now double, hangover. i think i only made that ugly trying not to cry but crying anyways face once. ok, maybe twice.

i went over to another friend's house for the ritual entourage viewing (even though i have hbo, i tried staying home the weekend before to save gas and was more depressed than ever). it was nice to see people, even if only for 26 minutes. back at my place i stayed up until 2am watching episodes of californication on my computer. i don't think i ever really fell asleep that night...

oh well...on to monday (the second most depressing day of the week)

i just found out that there will soon be video footage of my 'you oughta know' performance from friday's work party available on youtube (thank you alanis, and Rock Band 2). i hope to be sick the day that link goes company-wide. but don't worry, i'll post it here for everyone's personal enjoyment, and my absolute mortification. although i do think i got a good bit of boy-hating rage out during those 4 minutes and 9 seconds. but that is even more humiliating than i can even imagine.

i am a shockingly worse singer when i am under the influence than when i was sober. i thought it was supposed to be the other way around. maybe it has something to do with an inability to read the words on the screen due to blurred vision caused by alcohol.

nevertheless, every single one of us left that night convinced we were the ultimate rock star and holding auditions for band mates. i believe i agreed play bass for a band called 'cocaine anus'. shopping for my leather pants later today.

i also promised more on Boy from Work. and i won't fail to deliver.

everything was going well at the party on friday night. we were keeping it breezy (read: ignoring each other). now this was fine with me as i am trying to keep it as breezy as he is. that is, until a few hours and a few, or 8 beers, later he started calling me 'babe', repeatedly, in front of all of our coworkers. that's when i thought it was probably a good time to take my leave. so i left, with him. fortunately i think everyone else was too preoccupied with their own rock star fantasies to notice. at least i hope.

i drove him back to his place and this is when it gets a bit hazy (scary that i just said drove and hazy in the same sentence, but lets forget about all the potential duis i avoided this weekend for the sake of the story - i am very disappointed in myself about that, for the record). the general gist of the next sequence of events is we kissed, he told me i was a bad kisser, i am still mad about it, he tried to hump my leg, i told him that probably wasnt a good idea, and he asked me to kindly leave.

i woke up the next morning fearful that our budding friendship was demolished by the previous nights leg-humping rejection. but he called and we exchanged pleasantries, re-capped the highlights of the night, lamented about our hangovers and taunted each other for trying to make out with the other. totally normal - a 3 out of 5.

i didn't see him the rest of the weekend, but unfortunately i did drunk dial him the next night, twice, at 1 and 3am. example 26,500 why i should not have access to a cell phone and beer/vodka at the same time. however, the good (bad) news is, i lost one of my two phones that night (the embarassing pink motorola, not the work sponsored blackberry, fortunately). so maybe that will curb the habbit. probably not.

hopefully things will go back to the friend zone. not so sure an office romance is really a good idea at this time, or any time. and he only owns two pairs of jeans that he alternates throughout the week, which grosses me out in a variety of ways.

i do love his old man sweater though. and when he calls me babe. and his cat.