baby, you can drive my car

just don’t drive me crazy

I took the afternoon off yesterday, and slept. I just kept sleeping. So today I feel much better. Happy pamie.

Happy nervous pamie.

I called the doctor’s office today because they were supposed to send me all this information on what’s going to happen to me in a couple of weeks, and they haven’t. What I would really like is a nurse to call and say, “Are you okay? Is everything going okay?” but of course that isn’t going to happen. I’ve now been waiting for two hours for a callback. My mother reminded me that I probably need to take antibiotics before the procedure, since I have a heart murmur. I can’t believe the doctor didn’t mention it. So now I have to call and get a prescription. I have to take charge of my own health, because the medical profession is too busy to take care of me. My mother wants to come down to stay with me after the surgery, since Eric has a show that night… she doesn’t want me to be alone, and I guess she wants to do that mothering thing. It’s very sweet of her, and I didn’t expect her to offer, but I’ve really been feeling very isolated about this, and I’m not sure that I’d feel too comfortable with her there. It’s strange. If I had something wrong with my brain or my thyroid or something, everyone would be outwardly concerned. But it’s my cervix, and somehow that shuts people right up. They say, “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” and don’t want to talk about it.

I got a great e-mail from an Amber yesterday who said all of the things that I’ve been waiting to hear from someone. Yes, it’s going to hurt. Yes, I’ll feel terrible. Yes, it could be very, very serious. I guess for my sake, I’m not going to lie to myself and tell myself it’s nothing, because if it is, I won’t be prepared. But for everyone else in my life, it’s probably best that they think it’s nothing, so that they don’t have to deal with it until it is fact. But things are getting really strange around here. In one week two people I know have been diagnosed with a brain tumor, another is recovering from chemo, someone else told me a story about a friend slipping into a coma from cancer complications… I get some e-mail that’s going around about a girl who suddenly gets leukemia and dies… there’s just a lot of death/ near-death around right now, and I’m nervous that I’m just another part of it.

Ew, this entry is sadder than I ever planned it to be. sorry.

So yesterday Eric and I went out to dinner. A member of my troupe works for a restaurant and he gave us a dinner for two coupon, but I felt that once I gave the waitress the voucher I had to start cracking jokes and honking horns to prove that I was indeed a comedian. Or at the very least she’d be like, “Monks’ Night Out? Oh, I waited on one of them once. Not funny.” So I’m cracking jokes about enchiladas and green chilies and I realize how pathetic I’m being so I just have a margarita.

The heat made me so miserable yesterday that I was like this incredible she-bitch. The A/C is out in my car, which, if you don’t live in Texas, you couldn’t understand the importance of that statement, but I was just furious that it is still this hot in September. I’m damn tired of it. So I was just bitching along on the way to the restaurant and Eric was waiting for the cool air to have a human by his side again, and I chilled out in the restaurant and had some cold beverages and everything was groovy.

But then we left the restaurant, and I asked Eric to drive, since I had the ‘rita, (plus I had a little cup of ice cream I was eating (like you used to get at school lunches) so he took the keys and hopped in. He started the car, and started moving forward, onto one of those curb, parking spot marker thingies. And the car is trying to not move, but I guess he thought it was just a speed bump or something, so he kept going until he had gotten my car stuck half over this piece of concrete. And I wasn’t really mad at him, but it was so hot and I was so mad and frightened at the sound of the underside of my car crunching over concrete that I felt my internal thermometer shoot way up and I was livid. I got out of the car and watched him try and move the car, but the wheels just kept spinning and smoke was going all over the place and it smelled like broken car and I was sure that all of the restaurant was laughing at us.

So Eric has me get in the car and try and back up, and he’s going to push the car over the bump. Now, I know this isn’t possible, but I’m willing to try anything. So he’s pushing and nothing’s happening, and this guy walks out of the restaurant to help us. They decide to both push my car back, which does nothing, and then I start driving forward, pedal to the metal, and then the car dislodges, and scrapes and screams its way over the slab of “don’t go any further than this piece of concrete.” And I stop the car and get out, and go back to the passenger side, and I notice the guy looking at me like, “stupid woman driver, always getting into shit.” And I wanted to say, “My boyfriend did it.” And what I really wanted to happen was have Eric go, “Hey, man, don’t look at her like that, I did it.” But I think he was just more concerned about getting me home and out of this heat because my face was beet red. So now I’m pouty, and trying to figure out exactly how much damage to the car probably just happened and I’m trying to figure out what I can pawn to get a new underside of the car. Eric says, “It’s fine.” And heat-exhaustion pamie snaps, “Well, when my engine drops out on I-35, you better come get me.” And Eric just laughed, because at this point he had probably had enough of me, and was trying to not push me out of the car and have me walk home. And he says, “Eat your ice cream, it’s melting.” And bitch-in-heat pamie says, “No, I don’t want it anymore.” So Eric ate it. We drove on very quietly until I started kicking my stupid car for all of the things that have broken on it lately and for giving me so much trouble.

And Eric is enjoying my rant (mostly probably because it wasn’t directed at him) and he’s going, “What else makes you mad, sweetie?” and I’m yelling, “Why do these trees have to be here? I can’t see all the way down the road when I’m driving. I just hate the new Sonic signs, like they are new retro.” And stupid babble like that, until we got home, where Eric started watching television. I made some sort of “ooh” noise when he flipped by “Vegetable Soup,” and he handed me the remote and went into the other room to read. He came out twenty minutes later to see if I had cooled down (in all meanings of the word) and I had, so he spent a little time with me before rehearsal.

stupid car ruining my late afternoon.

But then we laughed about it later on in the day, because sometimes I get really mad at him for things that I know aren’t his fault or were accidents, so I’m all mad at him, but I just sort of shut down or something, and look all wide-eyed, because I don’t want to blow up when he didn’t really do anything malicious. Apparently I get this twitchy sort of look and I start babbling about something else.

This one time I came home and found that my soap was not by the sink (I was about to wash my face, mind you. I don’t just check the soap whenever I come home like I’ve got OCD, for Pete’s sake). Anyway, I found it later by Eric’s tool kit, with these black lines in it. I asked him what they were and he said, “Oh, it helps the screws go in the wall better if you put soap on them.” And apparently I got all twitchy faced again and didn’t say anything, because he goes, “Was that bad?” and I said, “This is like ten dollar soap. I’ll buy you some Dial for your tool kit.” And walked out. My brain pictured him rolling some dollar bills around the edges of the screws and putting them into the wall.

I overreact, I know, but I don’t yell at him. I probably got real mad at the soap for being so overpriced.

Speaking of soap, last night I was glancing at my Garden Botaniks catalog and thinking about how my life will be better if I could just purchase $200 worth of creams and cosmetics when I remembered that I already have $200 worth of creams and cosmetics in my bathroom that I had to have, but rarely use. So I used them for a while last night, giving myself a mini facial. It was nice. I highly recommend Cabot’s Vitamin E peel-off mask for dry skin. And, man, if you haven’t tried Bijore’s moisturizer, you’re only hurting yourself. So light, and NO GREASE. Perfect. Smells good, too.

I’ve found that people get really angry when they find out I don’t have much of a cosmetic ritual. I only wear makeup when I’m going out or sometimes when I have a show… maybe twice a week I’ll put on makeup. And I don’t put crazy stuff in my hair everyday, but there are some things that I need to feel pampered. Some things that I need because I love the smell, and some things I need so my skin doesn’t fall off.

pamie’s can’t live without it beauty stuff

Dove Soap (15 years! remember those old ads?)
Johnson and Johnson’s Baby Powder
Pink Eye Shadow
Body Glitter
(I just picked this up and I’m in love–) Old Navy’s Body Shimmer
Bijore Facial Moisturizer
Garden Botanikal’s SPA body scrub
GB’s SPA sea salt scrub
GB’s SPA facial mud mask and hair mud
GB’s SPA sea salt bath soak

Just buy that SPA package. Smells yummy.

So today I’m rested, healthier, and baby smooth. It’s not so hot here in the office, and I’m not a cranky baby. Well, I’m a little cranky, because I’m ready for some sort of vacation to a cold cold place, but other than that I’m doing fine today.

I’m trying to find a good rate for Las Vegas in early January. Does anyone know a good airline/travel agency/person to beg?

Oh, it looks like it’s going to be about $400. That’s way too much, man.

Don’t you hate boring e-mail days? When you get absolutely no good e-mail? We’re having one of those at work today. Bummer.

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