whiski_sour: (wtfx4)
There are times when everything happens at once.

Yesterday, I booked a job interview and I found out the remaining Monkees will be playing 12 dates in November.

The job interview is tomorrow at the Mobil Super Pantry down the street. A gas station/convenience store job would be considered low brow for most, but since most of my jobs have been crap jobs, it's a good fit for me. The fact that it's down the street makes it that much more appealing. It's like retail and that's where I'm most comfortable. So, we'll see how it goes. I guess my dad knows the guy that will be interviewing me. I hope he doesn't hold that against me.

The Monkees touring is HUGE. It's Mike, Peter, and Micky. Mike hasn't gone on tour with these guys since '97. I saw Micky, Peter, and Davy 15 years ago this month and it was fantastic. I would love to see Mike. Of course, me going hinges on getting a job and/or making regular money in some way because I can't afford it. Tickets go on sale tomorrow for the Chicago show. There's no way I can get tickets now. I have to hope that I can get tickets if I get the money.

The money-less state I'm in is really cramping my fun. Not only will I likely miss out on The Monkees, but I'm also missing out on a Cubs lunch next week that I REALLY want to go to because my lefty will be there.

The money-less state is also cramping my everything. I can't afford to buy shampoo right now and I need to come up with 100 extra bucks this month to pay my car registration.

In short, I could really use this job.

Or someone to pay me to do something.

Or winning the lotto.

Whatever. Need money. My life is all cramped. Tired of this no fun existence.
whiski_sour: (dreamy Alex)
I've got all of my ducks in a row (I hope) for Casino Night tomorrow night. Thanks to my awesome friend Harry who's going with me, I'll be able to spend the night there and not have to worry about driving home right after the party. I will still be driving in Chicago, which I hate and have serious anxiety about, but I know in the end it will be better than what I make it out to be and I will survive it and that's what counts.

This is going to be my Cinderella night.

You see these tickets go for $175 a piece ($500 a piece for the VIP tickets). No way could I afford to go. I've never been able to afford to go. I'm going because I won these tickets. Technically, I don't belong there. But like Cinderella, I had a bit of a Fairy Godmother thing going, what with the winning and Harry helping me out by putting me up and already having the dress, so I get to head to the ball.

For one night, I get to pretend I'm not about to max out my credit card. I get to pretend that my ability to sell my stories and my jewelry isn't an abysmal failure. I get to pretend that I don't keep making stupid mistakes. For one night, I get to dress up and be pretty and gamble fake money and maybe exchange a few words with a player or two and pretend for one night that everything is bippity boppity boo before returning the reality of trying to clean up the mess that is my current existence.

I don't deserve that one night reprieve, but I'm going to take it and enjoy it as much as I can. It'll be the last one I get like that for a long time.

The pain from wearing heels for several hours will be worth it.

To be fair, I did get a very nice, pretty comfortable pair of heels. But you can't fight physics. 235 pounds in 3 inch heels when it's the first time you've warn heels in quite a while pretty much guarantees inevitable pain, despite steps taken to avoid it (gel cushion inserts, wearing them to break them in, wearing them to get used to them, etc.). The one bright spot, though, is that they don't seem to effect my jacked up knee too much, so that's something.
whiski_sour: (smokin')
I'm depressed. I admit it. It's not an earth-shattering depression. It's nothing like when I went crazy...what?...10 years ago now? Yeah, that's about right.

The thing about me being depressed is that I get vicious. Does that happen to anyone else? I know other people on my flist have dealt with depression. Is this a common thing or am I suffering from a unique snowflake complication?

I have enough trouble being nice as it is because I have no tact gene and I've got a spiteful streak like you wouldn't believe. But, when I'm depressed, I have absolutely no patience for anyone. I have no tolerance for anyone. And I find myself biting my tongue and using my backspace a lot more often because the urge to verbally eviscerate someone is overwhelmingly strong. I'm angry, I'm frustrated, I'm unhappy, and now you're running your mouth. I'm going to make you bleed.

The longer I go on like this, the worse I get. I know all of the logistics of it, but there's something evil inside of me that just wants to open my mouth and let it fly, consequences be damned. I feel a deliciously wicked cackle bubbling in my throat, itching to come out.

Freud said that depression is anger turned inward. Well, I had it drilled into my head not to be selfish, so rather than keep that anger all to myself, I want to share it.

Basically, I want to cut a bitch.

Knowing me as well as I do, I probably will before all is said and done and I get back on the healthy mental path.

And as someone who stopped hiding their bad qualities and who has been told that my redeeming qualities are few and far between, I probably won't feel one bit bad about it either.

I'm not bragging. Just telling the truth.
whiski_sour: (is he dead?)
Just a few Castle comments )

In other non-TV news, there really isn't any. I really kind of have no life. And I'm okay with that.

Except it makes it kind of challenging to post every day.

Please note how I have yet to back down from the challege.

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Cheshyre

February 2014

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