not nine stories

nothing too exciting: some notable, yet tameish deliveries last week. one was to a hotel, where a woman answered the door, and i noticed a flute on the bed. i looked at the delivery slip, and she had an austin number. it made me wonder why she was staying at a hotel and obviously practicing. maybe she's a grad student, or getting ready for a recital or something. tipped well, though.

not really a delivery story, but i was picking up at silhouette on saturday. order wasn't ready, so i had to wait around for a bit. which i didn't mind at all, because the server was fucking hot. about my height, maybe a little taller. shaggy hair. scruffy. great specs. nice wrist tatts. i feel in lust with him immediately. but getting to the story, this older couple (read 40s-ish) was leaving when i got there. the woman left her purse behind, and when the server noticed, they weren't in sight, so he put the purse on top of the bar. at some point, the purse rolled over behind the bar and fell into a pool of water. this was discovered then the couple came back, and the purse was filled with water. the woman was being calm and nice about it, but her husband (i assume) was being all passive aggressive and shaking the water out of the purse's contents anywhere he could. it made me feel bad for the hot server that he had to deal with them. oh well.

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just to make myself more attractive to you; have i failed?: i'm starting to doubt the wellness of being friends with michael. take last night, for instance. we were supposed to finally see persepolis, but we ended up going to see his friend hilary play at scoot inn. which was cool. she has a beautiful contra-alto voice.

but the drinking. oy. we drank so much. we just kept buying each other drinks. it was ridiculous. and then we went to longbranch! and that's when things get blurry, or rather, i remember getting to longbranch and ordering a drink, then i remember waking up this morning to pee.

yeah. i messaged michael earlier today to ask if i'd done anything stupid. he said i didn't. but we also have wildly different definitions for the word, so i'm sure since he said no, that i did.

for his birthday, i was going to make him a cd in addition to the cigs and copy of the wild boys that i gave him. but then i looked at the songs i was gathering and noticed a trend. from morrissey, there was "last of the famous international playboys", "he knows i'd love to see him", "disappointed" (ok, it was most of bona drag, dammit). medicine's "wash me out". aimee mann's "i should've known", "nightmare girl", "guys like me", "just like anyone". belinda carlisle's "i get weak". belle & sebastian's "the wrong girl". the dambuilders' "shrine". the dandy warhols' "we used to be friends". the dresden dolls' "coin-operated boy". edie brickell's "nothing". "another suitcase in another hall" from evita. the geraldine fibbers' "richard". heart's "how can i refuse". imperial teen's "open season". inxs' "need you tonight". ivy's "lucy doesn't love you". "that was my veil" by pj harvey.

um, i think you get the picture there. yeah, that would be a long, sloppy song kiss about how i'm someone else around him, this thing won't last, he's better off without me, and i'm destined to die bitter and alone. because that would've definitely said happy birthday.

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duck spotting: spotted the imposter duckie again last week. this time, he was eating at dirty martin's. and wearing flip-flops! DUCKIE WOULDN'T WEAR FLIP-FLOPS!!! i wanted to go shake some sense into him, but instead, i picked up my order and went along to delivering it.

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sucky: i found out the hot dispatcher at work, clay, is quitting. it's for understandable reasons, but now i have less eye candy. oh well, it's not like we worked together all that much. but when i found out he was quitting, one of the other dispatchers said "well, he was way overqualified to work here, anyway." it makes me wonder what they think about me. i haven't really been forthcoming with tales from my past except that i used to work at the school paper at swt and that i temped for the state as a proofreader. i feel sketchy about mentioning my former professional life, for fear of the "then why the hell are you delivering food" question. it sucks keeping quiet, though, because i feel like i have less to contribute conversation-wise, and have to come up with other things to talk about. it was a little hard the other day when chris was talking about how he dreads making the schedule every week because someone always inadvertently gets screwed a little. and i really wanted to say that i knew he was talking about from having to schedule and reschedule copy editors. but that would require me to reveal that i used to work professionally for a newspaper. bah.

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flashback: um, so the above referenced drinking and blacking out? uh, i just went out to get a cd from my car, and, um, the passenger side mirror is, um, demolished and hanging by a wire. needless to say, that freaked me out, and i came back inside, got under the covers in my bed and had myself a nice little panic attack.

if you don't know, i got into an accident back in early may '05. i was very drunk and driving back to san marcos (where i was living) from austin (where i was working). i shouldn't've driven. i should've asked someone to let me crash on their couch. somewhere in kyle, i think, i side-swiped the right side of my car. the mirror was the first to go. two flats. some body damage. i got out of the car. a state trooper arrived, and i got arrested for public intoxication. it was a horrible ordeal, and i still don't remember a whole of that night.

so yeah, i'm a little freaked out right now, because it could be a lot worse. i should've called a fucking cab. that's why i fucking have yellow cab's number programmed in my cell phone. fuck, maybe i did call a cab and decided to drive anyway. i have no idea. blackout, remember. i shouldn't've drank as much as i did. i should've told michael to stop buying me drinks. why did michael let me drive? maybe he did try to stop me. maybe he didn't. i should've probably gone home at scoot inn and not have gone to longbranch. why did i drink so godsdamn much?

coulda woulda shoulda. i'm counting my lucky stars that it's just a fucking mirror and i made it home safe. of course, now i have to worry about replacing said mirror and where the money for that will come from. and does that mirror need to be replaced before i get my car inspected next month? oy. looks like i'll be picking up shifts at work...

needless to say, i won't be drinking heavily in public for a while.