 Oy |
|
OY. That's really all I can say right now. Oy. Work is crazy. People won't make up their minds about things I prepared for them months ago, and there's just really no more time to be dicking around. I have a speech due basically right now that can't be written until some things have happened a few days from now. I'm really not sure how I'm going to pull it off. I got under three hours of sleep last night and I have so much work to do -- that I actually have to think to complete -- that I can't even really deal with it and have resorted to writing this entry instead. Yeah. I don't even know. I do not know what has come over me. I am just kind of Zen about the nonsleeping issue. I don't think twice about going to late-night gigs on school nights when it means I can see my man rock out like the superfly hottie that he is. I also cleaned the bathroom of his cute new house even though it was covered in the funk of a family full of strangers who recently departed. And I didn't have a toilet brush. So I used my hands, a sponge, and about a half a bottle of Pine Sol in the bowl and went to town. ME, ELIZA. I can't even hold hands with family members during grace before a meal without breaking a sweat and I was scrubbing unknown substances left by unknown peoples off of shower walls. I mean, I will be using this bathroom so I wanted it to be clean for my own peace of mind, but more than that, I really just wanted it to be clean for him, because this is his new space that he owns, and it should be fresh and clean and free of remnants of the alarmingly hairy former residents. It should be shiny and happy and lovely because he is lovely. So, Vegas. It has come to our attention that our hotel might not be the nicest on the Strip and in fact that there are entire Internet message boards devoted to warning people not to stay there because it smells like Pampers and really old burritos. My older brother, who lived in Vegas one summer, blanched visibly when he learned of our plans. He started shouting across the diner table on Father's Day while waving a piece of bacon at me, "You cannot stay there. It is the grossest place in all of Las Vegas. IT IS A DOGSHITTY SHITHOLE." In those exact words. He called his good friend immediately from the table and announced, "Dude, my sister is a germophobe. She cannot stay at this place." The friend was like, "DUDE, she cannot. Is she insane?" And they started calling contacts at nicer hotels because my brother is no one if not someone who has contacts in the middle of the desert. But I figure, how bad can it be? I feel kind of brave to be embracing it. My mom suggested packing a tiny can of Lysol until we all reminded her in unison that you probably can't bring that on a plane. My brother suggested borrowing his large duffel bag to pack my own sheets, towels, pillows, and blankets, but the whole point of trying not to be such a germophobe is not to indulge my germophobia in that psychotic manner. He started to bring up "that special about hotel rooms on Dateline" but I immediately started flailing my arms about and looking at him so pleadingly and desperately over my scrambled eggs while moaning, "No. Nooooooooooooo …" and holding a menu over my face that he shut the fuck up. I really want to try to be strong and just suck it up. It kind of gives me squeezing sensations in my chest, but I think we can soldier on and take it for the team. Luxury I do not need. I am just ready to get away from work and responsibilities and do random things and be together for an extended period of time. Father's Day was nice; there was an abundance of grits and also flies at brunch, and Dad liked his gift of a case of summer brews. The food at the diner is yummy but it's not exactly an unfilthy establishment. My mom started openly weeping when my older brother gave him a card with a picture of a son and father on a pier that looked just like the one we used to fish from at the beach every summer. Then she demanded that my dad hand her the card so she could use it to wave off the flies. Meanwhile, my sister is still frolicking around South America and is preparing for the arrival of her hot Irish boyfriend. And my little brother is having insane Greek adventures, remaining totally chill when his backpack was lost and didn't catch up with him for days and noting that the topless beaches aren't as great as he thought they'd be because "most people just don't look that good naked." I am still laughing at how he got his hair chopped off before he left and observed, "I feel lighter … faster." My mother showed up at my house this evening and mowed my grass for me. Just to be nice. Because she knew I've been working hard and have a busy week ahead. She is such a better person than I could ever be. If so far you feel kind of stagnant this summer and like there's really nothing productive to do and you're sitting around checking the schedule for the premiere of the next Big Brother and you want to do something worthwhile for humanity, go read this entry and throw some money their way.
About this time in ...
© Copyright 2005 elb |
|
