recovering...

I must be feeling better, going through the grieving process, because people are starting to annoy the hell out of me. What stage is that? Anger? When I got here and people were being assholes, I was all “I don’t even care, nothing matters, blah”

And now, I guess I’m back to my old self. Just this morning I was almost denied boarding my flight cuz I said “Fuck you” to the delta counter lady. Well whatever, she SO deserved that one. But they literally RIPPED my tickets off my bags and everything. So I had to apologize and beg that dumb bitch to let me back on. It’s a long story as how it got to be that bad at the counter, but I am sure we can ALWAYS assume it was totally DELTA’S FAULT.

At any rate, they made me miss my flight, and take a later one, and then when I FINALLY got to security I realized I had no ID.

!!!!!!

isn’t that what nightmares are made of? Maybe tomorrow I am going to be in school taking a test I didn’t study for or waiting on tables where I can’t get to everyone, and the customers are all mad and I might be fired for being surly and slow. Wait. That wasn’t a dream. That was my entire senior year in college. All three senior years.

The fact that I am sitting on this flight is proof that Beck is upstairs telling God “she means well….well, I mean, she got me GREAT treats anyway.”

Then I went for airport starbucks for comfort and In front of me was this French guy talking on his phone. In French. That’s hot. So I looked him up and down. He wasn’t hot. He was short. Had an ugly suitcase and those baggy pants that are all pockets and zippers and snaps EVERYWHERE. Then He hung up and Sbux was playing some sort of African dance something, and he started moving his legs to the beat.

I stood there examining him, wondering on what level of desperation would I date this guy. Like, let’s just SAY he was all in love with me, what would be the deal breaker? His height? The dancing? I mean that would be endearing, maybe, once. But on every vacation? Nah. The attire? The ugly choice of luggage? I wondered on what level would I lower my standards all for a French accent?

Then he didn’t even get coffee. He just got a muffin.

It’s over. We’re breaking up.

Also I have SUCH a bad cold. I am living off of Sudafed Extreme Cold. Everyone on my flight HATES me right now because I am all coughing and stuffy and blowing my nose every few minutes.
There was a wind storm on Thursday and we were walking around the west village and a huge gust blew STREET DIRT right IN MY MOUTH. I about died. I stood there screaming and trying to spit it all out. But I could still feel the grit in my teeth. EEEWWWW! NYC street dirt? Probably has every different mammal feces there is. And a little bum pee. I knew I was poisoned, and sure enough I woke up Friday with a BAD sore throat. EWWWW!

I am still not okay with the germs that are in my body and from whence they came. My mind won’t stop imagining the exact rat who ate the exact rotten sandwich from the exact bum sitting in his adult diaper coughing up phlegm into his whore’s heroin needle. All washed up from the sewers mixed with a little subway grime, right into MY MOUTH!

Ho hum. It’s a lovely flight.