This weekend/ Mother's Day

Tonight I've been invited to go out on the town with my friend J to celebrate his birthday.  By night on the town I mean a night of hard core boozing.  I don't think I can drink hard liquor anytime soon...

So my goal is a two beer limit( because they have two for one special at Fiesta Cantina).  But I've also been considering the alternative to drinking proposed by my mother, drugs.  That's right, whilst chatting with her earlier this week, about booze, she began her speech on how alcohol is a waste of time because it'll make you nauseous but drugs don't.  I assume she means that you get a much cleaner buzz, then we started talking about Trainspotting...  

I know, and have know for close to a decade now, about her fondness for pot.  If I had been a more worldly child I would have know this when I was about 6 or 7.  I had found zig-zag papers in her purse, which I assumed she was using to roll cigarettes, and I got really upset because she had just stopped smoking.  If only I had know that she was actually rolling joints and not smokes it would have saved me a lot of anxiety.

Moving part 4

The beast (the bunny) has finally acclimated to her new environment.  She spent the first two days hiding under the bed and behind the toilet, but she's forgotten that she weighs only four pounds and is challenging  us over who's is in charge the new place.
In order to appease her, and keep her from nibble in the walls, furniture, and electrical cables I want to buy her a bunny maze, see the teensy image below.  Doesn't that look fun?  I bet she act like a cat and never use it, because she knows that it is for her...

Childhood memories finally accurately remembered!

Art by Joshua Hoffine has given back my nightmares.  Thank you!  

View his gallery here.

Image via io9.

Moving part 3

Two full nights we've spent in the new place.  And both times we could hear out neighbors fucking.  And I don't mean the occasional grunt or moan, and squeak of the bed, but the our neighbor lady screaming "Fuck me, aw yeah, oh harder!" And so forth.  We're wondering if are walls are really that thin or if they're really that loud.
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this, other than eventually running into them in the hall and trying not to giggle, is that they do this during the wee hours of the morn.  Like 3 or 4AM.  Either they stay up all night or get up at an obscene hour (tee-hee, double entendre).

Still seething

I was still angry and frustrated after work and the rest of the night.  And of course those feelings turned into anxiety, about money in particular.  Even knowing that we fine with it right, despite the massive moving expenses, I still feel so insecure and its all thanks to the lack of response over the raise.  It barely 9AM and I just pop a valium to quite the jittery feeling in my stomach.  Actually it feels like my entire torso... not butterflies, but a frightened bird trying to bash out of the cage that is my upper body.  Actually, let's make that birds, a few finches, that allows me to feel funny in different place at the same time.
It's also affecting my work, not in sense that I'm blogging instead of working, but that I'm not pursuing larger issues with the office's IT needs.  There want to switch to a new software package--fine, but it needs to be researched, someone has to be able to troubleshoot, someone had to install it, maintain it on a network, whatever, whatever, whatever.  But I've got no real incentive, other than boredom, to pursue this.  If I'm not going to get credit for all that work, by a title change and/or raise, then why should I do it?

Another book to add to my wish list

Best possible coffee table book evea, Dissection: Photographs of a Rite of Passage in American Medicine 1880-1930

It's only $30 on Amazon, and wait until I have something celebrate, then I'll get it.  Top image from NPR, lower image found on Amazon.  

New favorite site!

 Who Killed Bambi.   Of which a fair portion is NSFW.  I decided to just post deer related images.

What I did with my weekend...

Spent all Sunday being very hungover.  Now let me tell the story of how I came to be hungover on the Sabbath.  I got fucking loaded on Saturday.
M and I attended two birthday parties, one for our friend J and another for a friend of friend, who's name I don't know.  But the nameless one had bottle service at the Abby.

In total I consumed
2 Jack and cokes
4 Beers
1 Screwdriver
1/2 a Mojito w/ M
1 Lemon Drop

And it was the fucking Lemon Drop that put me over the edge.  I knew I was my limit, which is why I reluctantly spilt the Mojito with M.  I had been dying to go so I could kvetch about work.  I instead I wandered off, chatted w/ B and her girlfriend, L, and had the poisons Lemon Drop of doom.  I was fine until got home actually, surprisingly, and didn't feel sick until I was starting to fall asleep.  
Anyway the point is I now realize why I will drink so much.  To deal with anger, I was pissed about work, about being giving the run around regarding my raise.  So drinking hard not only dulls the frustration to a point where I can sit calmly and pull my hair out it also makes me feel like a bad ass.  Until I start throwing up, at least.  It does make me feel like I'm tough, rebellious, that I can do anything I want to if I put my mind to it.
Right now I'm sitting at my desk seething about the almost two full weeks that have gone by since I brought it up without any response.  I'm angry that I have to bring it up again, it feels like begging.  It feels shameful, as if my work is only worthwhile if I'm not asking to be paid for it, 'causes then it's worthless. Then it's optional.  It's unnecessary, unless it seems like I'm doing out the goodness of my heart. Blogging makes me feel slightly better, then I get to feel like I'm sticking it to them for the unpaid IT work.  Four months of unpaid IT work.