How can it be?

How is it only 11:30 on a Friday morning and, already, I've had a rough day? First, I woke with a little bit of a wine hangover. Meant to have a glass last night, not a bottle. Second, I had to trek to the dentist to have a root canal at 8:15...not the most fun experience in the world to begin with, but excruciating following a night of wine-drinking. Now I'm at the office, exhausted, finishing up my week of covering for a co-worker who has the most painful job in the world, and hoping the pain medication will last me through the day...

At least I have a lunch date :)

Dream On

I'm not a big Aerosmith fan. Actually, I'm not an Aerosmith fan at all. I didn't even know they did Dream On until I went googling around for a clever title for this post. I'd been thinking of Dream This Way or Janie's Got A Dream, because that's about all I knew of their discography. But I was wrong. Dream On was a big Aerosmith hit back in 1973.

All this is by way of saying that last night I had an Aerosmith dream. I've never had an Aerosmith dream before, though I'd be willing to bet that lots of people have. I did see Steven Tyler once in real life. He attended a lecture I was at and during intermission strutted around with his entourage. He'd tied a long, brightly-colored, flowing scarf around his neck, thereby making himself look just like you'd expect him to.

In my particular Aerosmith dream, I was with my friend Mandy O'Brien, the tinkly mandolin player. Steven Tyler and, I believe, the rest of Aerosmith were critiquing Mandy's performance. I don't know why, because in real life, Mandy O'Brien is a bluegrass/bluesy kind of guy, not a big rawk fan. But there Steven Tyler was, insisting Mandy's between-song banter was just not political enough.

"Uh huh," Mandy said.

The next thing I knew, Mandy and I were in his truck. In real life, Mandy doesn't own a truck. In fact, Mandy doesn't own a car. But, Dreaming On, we got in his truck and sped away. I was happy to be supporting my friend in his hour of total pissed-offedness, but I was also puzzled to be so supportive when I was so looking forward to singing for Steven Tyler.

Again, we're so obviously Dreaming On, because I can't sing, and if I could, the last thing in the world I'd want is anyone - and I mean Any. One. - to critique me. Unless they were deaf. Then it might be bearable. For them. For me.

Does this mean that I caught one too many episodes of So You Wannabe A Rock Star or whatever that show was that Dave Navarro sold his soul for? And I so used to like him.

Cosmically, I think I'm on to something here, though what it might be is elusive and mystical (as, apparently, am I, thanks to Luckybuzzz). Janie Has A Dream. Jane's got some kind of Addiction to dreams.

Oh yeah. Maybe I should just get back to work.

I have deemed today...

Friend Appreciation Day.

Not that I don't appreciate my friends every day, they are all always totally amazing, but recently I've been feeling so much love and support from them that I felt the need to sit back and really think about how much I love them and how happy I am that they are a part of my life.

(Dirty Martini)

Whiny Tuesday

I'm so bored I can't stand it. I just don't want to be here at Pleasant Valley Law today. I'd so much rather be home with the little cat, playing string. She loves her string above all her other toys: the little squishy balls, the tinfoil balls, the shiny purple fuzzy thing, the toucan on a wand, the real-live bug that limped across the floor last night.

Here's how we play string. Play close attention, because it's intricate and involved and there are many rules. Well, just one rule, which seems to be that if I'm home, I must play string. If I'm not playing string, the little cat sits with the string strewn by her paws. She looks at the string. She looks at me. Then she looks at the string again, meaningfully, longingly, just in case I didn't get it. So then I pick up the string and fling it up in the air so she can jump for it. Then I lay it on the ground and inch it past her so she can pounce on it. Then we fling and jump and inch and pounce for a while, until, finally, mercifully, she lunges for it, grabs it up in her teeth and walks around the house with string hanging out of her little mouth.

Within minutes, she's discovered wherever I've escaped to and sits down with the string at her feet and the game must start all over again. Did someone say cats have no attention span? She can do this for hours. She is obsessed with her string. Once I woke up in the middle of the night to pee and when I came out of the bathroom, she was waiting for me. With her string strewn at her paws. And even though it was 3 am and I couldn't even see straight, I played string because she's so little and furry and cute and, really, who needs to sleep.

So this is how bored and whiny I feel today. I'd rather be playing string. Hmmmph.

empty nest

After a week of visiting family members and a little shindig for the 2-year-old b-day boy, the martini boys and I have finally reclaimed our space (and I've started to regain my sanity). Following the more-than-mini emotional breakdown I suffered yesterday (having nothing to do with the issue that triggered it), I FINALLY took a break from the crazy bender I've been on recently and was able to pretty much sleep away most of the day yesterday. Now I'm feeling somewhat refreshed and have realized that my world really isn't spinning totally out of control.

I'm not sure it has ever felt so good to be back on a schedule...even at W...hell. More on the work drama will follow.

still tipsy

Since we currently have 4 generations of people all staying under one 600 sq. foot roof, Mr. Martini and I decided to escape last night for "a couple of drinks" (which turned out to be 3 dirty martini's-the last one not dirty at all, that particular bartender sucked, but it did have extra olives-plus, a beer or two that I don't really remember). The unfortunate thing is that I did this all on an empty stomach. The more unfortunate thing is that I had to drag my ass to work today after a nice 3-day hiatus...the work week really should only consist of Monday and Friday, not Monday through Friday. So, now I'm sitting here at work, still feeling a little drunk, totally unproductive, and counting the minutes until I can escape.

I see blog surfing in my future...

Okay, okay, okay

After those two good posts by DM (aka IB), how can I not post . . . something?

Well. So. It's another big food and drinks day here at Happy Valley Law. There's gonna be some kind of lunch meeting where, rumor has it, the firm is providing pizza, probably, or something equally inducive of rapid weight loss. Then, later this afternoon, they're hosting an hors d'oeuvre and champagne toast in honor of the anniversary of their founding, which wasn't so long ago.

Okay. So. You're probably wondering whatever happened to my fabulous job at Buymore Pharmaceuticals. Friends, I barely even lasted a year. In fact, I gave my notice the day before I marked my year anniversary of joyous and meaningful employment. After 54 weeks of pure unmitigated foolishness, Big Pharma and I finally parted ways. What did I learn in those 54 weeks, you ask. Two absolutely astounding things:

1. Law firms aren't such bad places to work after all (Really. That's how damn ridiculous it was), and

2. If Buymore is typical of how biiig-ass corporations "work," this country is in even more serious, fundamental trouble than the present administration is trying its hardest to bamboozle you into not believing.

So. There you go. I'm back at a law firm, which isn't anything like W...hell. At least not yet. It's better than W...hell. At least for now. I mean, I've only been here 5 weeks or something. So far, there's been 3 parties - with booze! On Staff Appreciation Day they gave us all (even me! the newbie!) iPod shuffles.

What's that old saying about bread and circuses? Something about iPods being the opiate of the staff? Or something?

Meanwhile, here's the best quote of the day:
Receptionist (moving files into the empty office across from me): I have to move because they're using my desk as a bar.

A little peace

How lovely. All I can hear right now is the gentle hum of the air conditioner. It's such a welcome change from all of the crazy sounds made by a two-year-old boy (while I love many/most of those sounds, I really, really, really need a little quiet time once in a while). Mr. Martini is currently putting baby martini to bed. Mr. Martini is a superstar tonight.

That break in blogging was just silly

(Dirty Martini)

I had the honor of the presence of luckybuzz and Tequila Fog last night as they met me for drinks at one of the many over-priced, trendy, but rather yummy local drinking establishments. Not so surprisingly, the topic of blogs came up very quickly in our conversation, and Tequila Fog and I were strongly encouraged to get this blog thing going again. So, I'm (we're) happy to be back and, this time, really will be posting the series of small disasters that is (are) my (our) life (lives).