so i am glad that i had mentally prepared myself to not expect anyone other than kit to show up for my birthday, because that is precisely what happened.
before i write about how bummed i've been all day today, i need to sing the praises of kit.
first of all, i took the air mattress to her before going to favorite bar. and when i got there, she had made this hugely amazing cake for me. wrote happy birthday tea on it. decked out with candles and all. it was amazing. the candles were trick candles, which she only realized when she started lighting them, and they started sparking everywhere.
she taped the part where she sang to me, and i had that look on my face. the 'oh, you...' look, followed by smiley headshaking 'you shouldn't have...', followed by trying not to cry.
it was really sweet and really cute. and i couldn't stomach the cake right then, because i hadn't eaten anything other than an apple fritter all day, and felt really yacky nervous.
so we cut a sliver, and had a couple bites each, and went to the bar.
and of course, i only knew the people working there.
i think that last night, once i got over the fact that it was just the two of us, the thing that bothered me the most was what my friends who work there must have thought. i can't think of anything more depressing than one person showing up to someone's birthday.
seriously.
it's just strange. i have been thinking a lot lately of something that a couple people have told me since this summer. brownies and my high school best friend both have told me that there's no replacing me. that i'm different. and that they have met other people, but no one was like me.
and it really went to my head. made me feel like i am awesome, and when i'm not being an asshole, i'm a wonderful friend who really cares, and would do anything for my friends. that i'm super thoughtful and that it genuinely makes me feel good to do nice things for my friends, and make them feel good, too.
and then it's like the sound of 15 crashing pots and pans. like a camera zooming in on me at the bar with my best friend, and no one else could make it to the bar for even one drink on my birthday.
totally fucking sucked. more today than last night.
one beer in, i noticed that sam had written happy birthday tea on the menu board above the bar, which made my night. she even drew stars around it, which was all too fitting.
once i decided not to look at the door when it opened (about two beers in), i was having so much fun with kit and the bartenders, that it didn't matter as much anymore.
that was probably the point in the night when i let jeff talk me into a shot. and sam made a washington apple for me. it was so fucking good. nate loves them, and we'd had one out at a bar before, the drink version. but sam's shot was so tasty.
gave that a minute. i was still fine at that point. i should know by now that if i'm having more than one beer, shots don't get figured into the occasion. but it was my BIRTHDAY. so i was into it.
that was probably when kit and i had cigarette number two. and i was feeling a little numb. and i had a little water, we'd already eaten, but i couldn't stomach all that much. about half of my food, because i was nervous.
we went back inside and i said that i would have only a half pint more. and then be done. but kit was imperative about not leaving the bar before ten on my birthday. so she ordered another beer. and just like this summer, knowing i was exceeding my limit and letting peer pressure effect me at 33, i let them talk me into one last beer. i switched to pbr for its water-like qualities. only sam gave it to me in the boot. as in, das boot.
luckily, i knew that there was a trick to drinking from it that involved turning it on its side about 2/3rds of the way in.
still, i felt fine while i was there. finished the boot and came home. sat on the stoop to have a smoke, and everything hit me.
wicked spins, just awful. took my time standing up and turning around. got inside my apartment, and stripped down. into the bathroom. 'don't throw up. don't throw up.' got into bed. 'i'm gonna throw up'.
into the bathroom just in time. get it over with. stop spinning. please. stop spinning.
how did i let myself get here? i hate this. i can prevent this. why did i do this again?
you know. drunken toilet prayer thoughts.
whatever. then my buzzer rang. and my phone. and then knocking on my door.
i knew it was kit, and i knew she was coming to borrow the vacuum she'd forgotten, because she left the bar in a hurry when her friend arrived into town.
but i couldn't stand up and stop puking, so i couldn't let her in.
finally, i was able to.
she was in and back out after asking me if i was sick. was i okay? 'yes fine. go. i'm fine.'
which is what i do when i'm sick. if i see or hear someone else getting sick, i'll get sick. so when it's me who is sick, i have to be alone. i don't want anyone to see or hear or be there at all.
so she left, and i got sick again, and now i'm having a hard time remembering everything. i know that the second time i stripped down completely, grabbed a towel and wrapped myself in it on the tile floor because i was hot-cold and it felt best. i know i laid there for a while before i could go to bed. and when i went to bed, i had insane dreams, and kept waking up and trying to go back to sleep. i know i got up at 7 and took cold medicine. and i know i couldn't physically get out of bed and stay out until almost 10.
i was so fucking hungover. maybe the worst ever, but it just feels that way. having to work really sucked, even though it was a driving day. i almost cried so many times today. feeling sick and sorry for myself. it took two hours for me to drink a coffee. i had a splitting headache and can't take motrin because of surgery, so i couldn't do anything about it.
i really felt horrible, and honestly wanted a beer at 10 to make it go away, but didn't.
drove to work on a flat tire. intuition is a funny thing. i knew my tires were low. and i had told myself to fill them on my way in. but feeling so fucking awful made me not want to get out in the freezing cold (20s) and bend over to fill my tires. so i didn't. and when i got to work, saw that my tire was entirely flat. don't know how i didn't feel it when i was driving.
so i left there, luckily only a 5 minute drive from home and less than that to the air pump.
filled all my tires, and it was fine. drove to delaware.
listening to my mix and trying not to cry.
it was awful. i didn't want to go. but i was out of gas and smokes and beer, and knew that i needed a beer as soon as i was home to get the hangover to subside a little.
so i stopped and got all of that. and went in. and michele was asking me why i looked so upset. so i spilled about being hungover from last night, and how no one else showed up and all about ever problems and surgery.
debbie downer strikes again. and then got to work for a little while.
managed to stuff down a dry plain bagel i snagged from work, and the rest of my coffee from work, and left as soon as i could without feeling guilty. came home. had a pbr. felt okay enough to eat food leftover from last night. had half a beer more sometime after that, but stopped because i'm not supposed to drink tonight.
just had a smoke now, couldn't finish that one either.
ugh. so gross.
in any case... i need to try to clear my head.
not as in clear my mind.
as in, literally. try to mellow out.
i know that everything tomorrow will be fine. i know that it's not really a big deal. i know that it will be over with before i know it. and i know how glad i'll be when that lump is out of my armpit.
and in case it's not, and i'm not, then i will say a couple things. living will style:
nina, if anything happens to me, you are my paper journal guardian.
kit, you can tell ever about this blog. so he knows exactly what i think of him and his fucking bullshit. and so you can see the look on his face. kick him in the nuts, while you're at it. you can have anything i own that you want.
to my other real friends, i'm only sorry that i didn't get to have more time to be a better friend.
and to everyone else, random people i don't know, thanks for reading. it means a lot to me to see that you come back to see what trouble i'm in.
ever, i fucking hate you. you suck and you're an ass. i cannot believe that i married you. and if i could go back in time, i'd never meet you. enjoy the house and the money and my dog daughter. i hope you get what you deserve.
and because i can't end on that note, i know everything will be okay. i just had to get a little out of my system.
it doesn't help that i wrote a love note to kit for my fb status. and because i had blocked a few people (namely, coffee and his girl) so i wouldn't have to see them pop up all the time, i didn't see that coffee had a love letter to a band for his status. makes me want to unfriend him right this instant. just so no one thinks that i saw and stole.
unfriend them, along with intern. and a few other people.
maybe when i wake up and recover tomorrow, right after i eat a big plate of cake, i'll do that.
something about fearing death and making life changing decisions. not that unfriending people would change my life. but i think it would help me to not beat myself up and stalk people anymore. and beat myself about stalking people.
peace out, bloggers. catch ya on the flip. less one inch of lump.
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