I am exhausted. Too much stay up late-y drink-y comedy time. But it's all worth it in the end. At least I keep chanting that to my sleep-deprived self. Sleeping is for when you croak. If I had gone home to sleep I would have never made the fine aquaintance of the various members of the 23rd Street Coney Island Crew, shown here with Allocco and myself. I mean, really. These guys were the most fun and I hope they can make it out to one of our shows. We promised them violence, swears, and some form of vomit. And that's what we deliver.
One thing that sucks abut being tired is that my tolerance for bullshit goes away. Normally, I can play nice and am able to hide my infinite laothing for others with a big plastic grin. But not today after all the late nights this week. Trying to go out and get lunch was akin to dentistry without anethesia. I felt like I was about to reach out and strangle someone with every step I took. Of which, each was slow and excruciating because of course, this is the day everyone wants to walk as slowly as possible in front of me and me only, it would seem. I actually came back early from lunch, just to escape other humans. It made me feel like I was losing my mind. Also, every time the phone rings I keep snapping, "What?!" as if it can hear me. Next up: tissue boxes on the feet and a tin foil hat for to talk to Jupiter and its environs.
I am so looking forward to a much needed sleep in tomorrow morning. It's going to be nice to sleep late because I earned it, not because I'm being a slacker. This is taking some getting used to, this whole being productive thing.
4 comments:
yes that tall young one, mmm tall and young...
and those abs. Grandma hasn't seen abs like that since 1994 on some hot lacrosse player.
You are so pretty!
They were just the best boys. I loved them. Anyone who lets me wear his D&G sunglasses is my pal.
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