Think I gave Opera Guy a run for his money yesterday morning.
Well a glissando actually.
I’ll see your Rigoletto and raise you one of my original Rags.
My fingernails are broken and my wrists and thumbs ache. I’ve spent at least three hours each day at the piano. It feels good.
The blood tests came back with nothing scary, just somewhat low estrogen levels and thyroid function. Despite 40+ years spent fully engaged in an attempt to wreak havoc upon my body the cholesterol is fine as is the blood sugar. Heh. Take that Mom.
So far a lot of things have been ruled out. That’s good.
I’ll know more on Tuesday and will find out if any meds are indicated for the two above conditions.
So I’m still awake and it’s 2:30 a.m.
This is what comes of having a double espresso after dinner. Particularly when dinner ended at 11:30 p.m.
What was Rachael doing out at dinner that late?
-I hear you asking yourself. Or it could just be the adjustment in meds resulting in audio hallucinations-
Well I’m glad that you asked. Or, am glad that the meds are fucking with me.
Either way I’m gonna tell you.
At noon today I was in Los Angeles County. At 8:00 p.m. I’m at the Silver Legacy to see Lewis Black.
My daughter was impressed that I was seeing Lewis Black.
“Mom do you have a date?”
“No honey, Rebecca does.”
True. Rebecca met a guy on match.com who wanted to take her to see Lewis Black. In order to make more of an impression he purchased two extra tickets.
So, Rebecca invited Cynthia G. (a wonderfully wacky and hugely talented local artist and teacher) and yours truly.
After seeing the show (which was excellent but not as good as some of his recorded routines and the HBO special) Rebecca’s date took us all to dinner at Roxy.
After seared ahi, eggplant with braised lamb, crab cake and peach caramel soufflé (you must give us 40 minutes notice to prepare the soufflé or we shall kill the lot of you) I was so tired that it was difficult to even appear focused, hence the double espresso. For some reason I believed it was about 10:30 pm at that point. Ooops. It was midnight.
Here’s my Saturday Night List.
Due to FCC Regulations a brain refuses to function in anything other than a meticulous and organized way after 2:00 a.m.
It’s in the handbook. Check it out.
What Pisses Me Off in Mid September
1. Alright: There is NOTHING on TV past 1:00 am on Saturday night except dumbass paid programming ads. What the hell. Who is asleep on Saturday night?
2. Good: Being stupid enough to drink a double espresso at midnight and having no company except for my fucking head.
3. Better: Obsessing on a) moving the remainder of my shit out of storage and into the apartment b) double obsessing because it will not fit and there are two large pieces of furniture that are too heavy for me to move alone c) not knowing what the hell I’m going to do with any of it or myself come October 1st
4. Best: Being too old to start a new career as a courtesan
What Makes Me Grin in Mid September
1. Alright: Seeing Lucky Ex-Husband Number One yesterday. He looks more and more like Harold Ramis.
I used to like my men Tall Dark and Hebrew.
2. Good: Seeing Lucky Ex-Husband Number One’s Current Wife.
If you were to put that troll and a decrepit Goodyear blimp (complete with sagging balloon action) in a line-up no one would be able to tell the difference.
3. Better: Having the hair colored and cut; a three hour job.
Had the blonde, pink and dark chocolate brunette replaced with a lighter chocolate brunette, fiery copper, and red.
You know me. Always understated.
4. Best: Spending two nights with my daughter and seeing her every day as well. She begged me to make nachos the first night. No damned meat of course so lots of refried beans, crushed garlic, freshly chopped jalapeños, and other morsels. We hung out, ate, watched TV, wrapped our arms around each other while sitting on the couch and then she kicked the shit out of me in her sleep. Just like old times.
Alright I’m going to have a smoke and settle into an ad for gym equipment.
Yeah, I have not had a cigarette for a week.
Yeah there’s $150.00 worth of a new drug for help in stopping smoking in my medicine cabinet.
Yeah I don’t give shit right now.
and there you have it.
–James thank you for picking my ass up at the airport and looking after Lizzie Borden. I’m hoping that her new stand-up routine didn’t hurt you as badly as her poker playing–