In the past few days some major information has come to light. First, my boss announced he had a positive interview for a job he may take if the offer is half decent. If the owners of our company don’t counter offer I will be left to cope with their bullshit on my own. Next, my roommate asked me if I wanted to move. Not with him somewhere, but generally speaking. Of course I want to move. If I had the means to move I would have done so ages ago. A friend of his needs a new roommate and he lives right in the heart of WeHo; something my roomie has dreamt of for the longest time. He has no gift for cost benefit analysis. I could elaborate, but that isn’t what this is about.

In a few days my entire lifestyle has been threatened. There’s no question that I cannot do my job without my boss. If he leaves I will have to follow and I haven’t a fucking clue how to carry that off. If my roommate decides to leave I will either have to find myself a place or hope the management goons in our building will allow me to stay here. I am not on the lease, nor is there any evidence that I’ve lived here for the past three years. I have no savings and my credit is so bad I would probably be turned down for a Blockbuster card. In a nutshell, I have few options. That is not a good place for me to be. In addition to that I feel fat, ugly and utterly revolting in practically every way. I know I’m not fat - I just feel fat. And no, I’m not Anorexic - I ate a bag of Cheetos for dinner tonight.

Sitting here stewing in my broth of misery and uncertainty I turned on my favorite movie, Beautiful Thing. Nothing. If anything it made me feel worse. I have become a freaky shut-in. I don’t even understand myself and that’s frieghtening because usually I know exactly what’s going on with me even though I do nothing about it. I am spiralling. While that sounds somewhat poetic and perhaps even acrobatic I fear I am quite close to snapping. And we all know how ugly that can be.

Funny. Just writing all this shit down has helped me some. Perhaps I’ll attempt to finish the movie.

This morning I woke up at 5:30 on the dot. Until that time I had slept quite soundly with only a few tiddle interruptions during the night. The strange this is I was ready to go; unlike during the week when even after ten hours of sleep I can barely muster the energy to turn off the alarm. But I didn’t WANT to be up so freakin’ early so I tossed and turned for two hours in a lame attempt at sleeping in. When I finally gave in at 7:30 I gathered up a load of laundry because last week I didn’t get a chance to do any. The laundry room doesn’t technically open until 8 so I waited until ten of only to discover someone had beat me to the punch. Not only was the washer going, but the dryer as well. What nerve! People are so disrespectful! It sucks that playing by the rules is a liability.

Went to a party last night. I had one of those lovely days where everything just sort of falls into place. Not to the level of running naked through a field of wild flowers or anthing, just really nice and easy… like Sunday morning… except on a Friday.

As usual I arrived early, like right after work, to help set up. In the case of RanchoNoHo, this means assisting in removing all evidence that every inch of the estate is in disrepair and utterly ignored at all times. Since the concept of maintenance has escaped most of the occupants and is simply overlooked by the others, every seemingly rudimentary task becomes an overwhelming chore akin to an archeological dig in the Amazon during the rainy season. I ruined a pair of jeans, smelled like citronella all night and my hands were rubbed raw, but it still didn’t bring me down. Even the overstock of banal, one-dimensional WeHo fair weather acquaintances had no effect on my evening.

Interesting conversation (naturally with recent transplants and visitors to the LA area), mild flirtation and better-than-average cocktails made the party one of the more enjoyable ones in recent memory. To top it off I was at home in bed by 2:30. A perfect outing to start off yet another laborious weekend.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The party was “Hawaiian” by theme and Michelle’s daughter had a grass skirt outfit complete with coconut shell “boobs” as she called them. Unfortunately, though hardly surprising, Michelle couldn’t find them anywhere so Dabney had to settle for a lame tank top instead. The outfit was ruined. Anyway, one of Dabney’s friends from school was there, a delightful girl. Obviously all of the adult talk and rowdy music by the pool didn’t interest them so they amused themselves in Dabney’s room for most of the night. I went back there to put something in my gym bag and found the two of them chatting quietly. Even though I had been teasing Dabney all night about having no boobs they asked me to join them so I figured, “What the hell?” As we were talking about things that little girls like to talk about it occurred to me that this particular situation was ripe with childhood trauma potential and quickly excused myself. Still, it was so very cool to be invited into their secret club!

I’m somewhat disturbed that I think of video editing for Johnny as “time off” from my regular work.

Controversy abounds as airlines attempt to employ new x-ray devices that may accurately depict genitalia. Are you kidding me? Who gives a shit about a greyscale outline? Are we really THAT insecure? Frankly, I doubt these devices offer much in the arena of air travel security, but I certainly don’t care if some random stranger gets a glimpse of the goods. I’ve offered much more for lower stakes.

You’d never know it, but damn am I ever sick of bitching! This weekend has been all about doing errands and putting unpleasant tasks behind me. Knowing full well I would flagellate myself if everything wasn’t completed I kicked ass and finished it all - with time to spare. Am I thrilled? Hardly. I am my own drill sergeant.

As this blog shows, I haven’t put time towards MY things in months. That’s about to change. Or so I’d like to believe. Every time I think I’m catching up two more things are dropped in my lap. I SO need to quit my day job. That fantasy is much easier for me to contemplate now that my proverbial carrot at work has been eaten by someone else.

I’d like to think that if I didn’t tax myself with so many things I wouldn’t have to be such a fucking Nazi about everything. Today in line at Trader Joe’s I very nearly popped a blood vessel as the woman in front of me insisted her two-year-old daughter operate the credit card interface. Come on! There are twenty people behind you! Deep breath. Think of the ice cold gin and tonic you’re going to make when you get home.