Jedi Mind ... Cider?

Hola, Internetters, I missed you!

I considered posting yesterday, but couldn't be bothered. My weekend was pretty blah and they were filming another goddamned tv show yesterday and I was worried. (but now I can’t stop it with the streaming of the consciousness.)

My boss hadn’t shown up for work, which is unusual and he hadn’t called, which is even more unusual. I knew that he was going to an island north of the big one, and I also knew about the storm* (hurricane?) that had come through the Seattle coast and did all sorts of damage, and I knew that boss was scuba** diving off said island. Add those nuggets together and whaddaya get? A scuba diving accident on the high seas. Naturally.

I tried phoning, but it went straight to voicemail, so I started scouring the internet looking for articles about lost divers or tragic accidents, toeing the line between “should I be concerned?” and “OMG, they’ve perished and I don’t know who to contact!”. Anyway, I did get a call just before 5 pm to say, that he and his wife were, in fact, ok, but stuck on the island due to bad weather -- Thanks for the incredibly late update, asshat! I was just about to phone the coastguard on your asshatty ass.***

*Hug called me, well, a couple of times on Sunday, the first time being 10 am, which is not acceptable. On a Sunday, dude? No phone calls before the hangover is manageable, please. Anyway, Hug and his ex-boyfriend decided to take their sailboat out on Saturday, and got caught in the hurricane and almost died. He was beside himself when I talked to him properly. And I was all super sensitive and, like, you got an awesome story, Hug! Way to live to tell the tale! Take that Ocean...Is that all you got? He was not amused, but I’m confident that he’ll come around and realise that I am not one to seek sympathy from.
**I know that scuba should be caps’ed, but I am not bothered about that at all.
***Hahaha, not really, I only call him an asshat when he really deserves it, you know, like when he drinks the last beer and shit.

Oh, what’s that? You want to hear about my blah weekend? Well, I would love to tell it to you…gather ‘round and make sure your cup of tea is fresh and hot.

1. I picked up the Jurassic Park trilogy, which is the maximum amount of fun you can have for 19.99 plus tax. If it worked. Which it doesn’t. I hate my Jurassic Park free life.

2. My apartment was properly debauched again this weekend, which now that I’m typing about it, I don’t actually want to discuss the state of my place. I don’t even want to sleep there right now because I need to bring in a pressure washer and a cleaning crew of 12 to de-yuck it.

3. I did some arts and crafts that left me with super glue all over my hands that I tried to wipe off, but was unsuccessful, so I had super glue skin all weekend. Nothing gets that bastard off skin, or at least nothing in my apartment, so, I spent approximately 72 percent of my non-crafty time worrying glue (and skin) off the tips of my fingers.

4. I had to have a talk with a woman, who’s also a friend, about texting while in company*. I said, ‘put the fucking phone away before I break it! And your head for being so rude!’ Actually, I think I really said, ‘you’re sitting at a table with two awesome people at an awesome bar and you’re ignoring us for text messages? Dude, come on!’ And, with that, the phone was put away. I would like to interject that it wasn’t me speaking, it was the peach cider, because I am an old hippie, didn’t you realise? But, in the sober light of the weekday, if I can wield the kind of power that makes people bend to my will, I will be drinking peach cider** a lot more regularly!

*This is a chronic problem and a major pet peeve of mine. All focus should be on me, all the time.
**Or was it the super glue?

5. The same night was done early after some fake drama re-enacted from a telephone conversation that number 4 relayed to the table, which took the wind from our collective sails. (ps. what a shitty sentence that was! Can you keep up?) The short story is that number 4’s ex-ex boyfriend (double ex?) is moving in with a girl she doesn’t like. The long story took at least 30 minutes, and 1 cider, for number 4 to impart all the nuances and issues she has with the situation. To which I say: madam, what business is it of yours? None! And worrying about it is a waste of time. Furthermore, I cannot support this kind of childish behaviour. So, bring on the fart jokes* and pull my finger.

*I admit that while I do have the mind of an adolescent boy, I don’t like fart jokes. Let’s talk about boobies instead.

6. I went out with my cousin T for coffee and errands which wound up in a tattoo parlour. (are they even called that anymore?) She needed to have some jewellery fixed for her facial piercings and I was being supportive. And then…the buzz of the needles, the smell of disinfectant and the aloof receptionist made me remember the joy that is...a new tattoo. A new tattoo! Of course I couldn’t scratch that itch immediately, because now you have to make multiple appointments with the artists and book months in advance! Bring back the days of the safety pin and bic pen ink, ‘cause I want one now. Watch this space!!

Handy Tips For Surviving Your Week:

1. Don’t get on a small sailboat when there is a small craft advisory, because it most likely applies to you.
2. Call if you get stuck on an island, because there are people that are waiting to abuse you on the mainland.
3. Put the phones down for a bit and enjoy the ones you’re with. We’re pretty fucking cool.
4. Don’t name your business Koo Produce, because it looks and sounds like Poo Produce, which is neither tasty nor delicious.

-Stay Dry, Anna