i spent some time in the sun

I spent the day at the company picnic. We had a great time drinking beer and playing volleyball. It felt really good to go outside and just move around all day long. I’m a little sunburned, and my thighs keep whimpering when I move, but I feel really good. Sitting at work all week at that computer drives me insane sometimes.

There seems to be some debate about the name of this site. It’s called Squishy. Some people call it Pamie’s Panties, but it’s really called Squishy. No big deal. Just settling some arguments. If you made any money off that, I’d like a small cut, please.

We had a terrible show last night. Horrible. So bad that at one point the person on my left asked me to shoot him in the head and the one on my right asked if I would run out the backstage door with her and never return. It was terrible. We couldn’t get funny. There was a really weird vibe the whole night like no one knew what was going to happen next and we had absolutely no control. I was frightened. I know you’re thinking, “But it’s improv, don’t you guys never have any idea what’s going to happen?” But it’s different when your confidence is blown. You stop believing in yourself and the show piles into one big piece of shit. I’m not exaggerating here, guys. Bad. Bad. Bad.

Ugh.

In any event, you’re always looking for someone to blame for a show that stinky… was it the audience? Were they not supportive enough? Did we just start on a weird vibe we couldn’t shake? Was it someone in particular in the cast that brought the show down? Or– gulp– are we just not funny tonight? And I guess part of it was our rhythm was thrown off… a few of us were really tired from a long week… and we just lost faith in ourselves really early on. Man, I hope that doesn’t happen again. It was not fun. It was the first time that I was checking my watch during the show. (“Only half an hour has gone by? Christ.”)

We also had an older audience, and that always tends to go iffy. We use a lot of pop culture references and we tend to be a little dirty, and that doesn’t always seem to gel with that type of crowd. But when you’re panicking, you tend to go even bluer than you normally would.

So everyone’s emotions are all up and someone’s looking for someone to blame and it all kind of went to hell and we stood around for a long time afterward (mostly shaking it off) but debating (read: arguing) about why it happened. My friend and I just sat outside of the arguing, had a cigarette, and talked about what’s been going on in our lives lately. She’s going through a divorce, and she’s a bit sad. I’m really proud of her, though, because it’s a relationship that needs some air. It would be so easy for her to take him back, and she’s standing up for herself and telling him to back off. They’ve been together for, like, seven years or something. Married for two. Deciding to be single after that amount of time spent with someone because you know it’s best for the other person? That’s damn noble.

Walking back to the car with another friend a homeless man stopped us. Normally around here the homeless ask you for cash in like a yelling, half-assed, “Change?” But this man stopped us, thanked us for stopping, and started telling us about himself. He said his name was Mark Anthony and he was from San Marcos and he’s down on his luck and without a home. He said, “You see those guys across the street with their chains and everything? Well, they’re making fun of me because I’m not all fancy. I’m sorry if I smell, I haven’t been able to take a shower and they’re mocking me, and you see this woman by my side? That’s my wife, man. They’re making fun of me in front of my wife. Now, I don’t know how you would feel, but that’s just embarrassing, man. I just want to take my lady to a nice place to sleep tonight with a bed and a sink so I’m trying to get enough money to rest her head.”

I gave him five dollars and my friend gave him a cigarette. I also gave him the roses someone gave me before the show. “Give these to your wife,” I said. He goes, “Thank you. Wait, both of them?” And his wife (sitting on the bench a few feet away) shouts, “Yeah, baby! Both of ’em!” And he took them both and blessed us, and we walked away.

I usually don’t give money to the people on the street. I give them cigarettes or any food if I have it, but I used to give so much money when I first started collage that I didn’t have enough for myself. I felt really guilty. But this man talked to us like people, not pockets, and he made us see himself as a person. And in five words, I knew what kind of a wife he was trying to please that night.

Sometimes when I sit on this computer to type in my entry for the day I feel like Doogie Howser. Did he have the first online journal? I rarely feel like sitting back, smiling, and drinking a Coke when I’m done, but that little genius did just about every week, didn’t he? Little bastard.

So, The Mighty Kymm has mentioned me in her online journal, and I just wanted to say thanks. It’s very rewarding when someone that you have been admiring for a while gives you return kudos. She’s bugging me to write more, so I am.

My father called me the other day when I was at work. This has never happened before in the history of pamie. Anyway, I guess he talked to my mother, who I talked to the other day, because he goes, “How’s your health?” And I said, “Okay.”

“Well, I heard you had a crazy pap something.”

“Pap smear. They found abnormal cells.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So what does that mean?”

“That means that they are going to run some tests.”

“And when is that?”

“In a few weeks.”

“So, it’s not serious then.”

“Well, it’s a test for cervical cancer, but this is the first available time they have open.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“I know, but that’s all they have available.”

“No, I mean you don’t have cervical cancer.”

“Why not, Dad?”

I thought he was going to mention because I was too young or something, but no, he says:

“Because you don’t sleep around.”

“What?”

“You get it from being promiscuous.”

“Dad, you don’t get cervical cancer from sleeping around.”

“Yes, you do. That’s what causes it.”

“Cancer.”

“Yes.”

“From sex.”

“Yep.”

So now if I do have cervical cancer, not only do I have cancer, but my dad thinks I’m a big slut. Definitely a win-win situation there. Oi.

So anyway, I know I’m getting paranoid about the whole thing. It’s the waiting that’s driving me nuts. Today I was playing softball and I started getting cramps and I was like, “here it is. I’m going to pass out at the company picnic and be the subject of gossip forever.” And then there’d be all these rumors about whether I was pregnant or taking drugs (“because all those comedians take drugs, you know”) and someone else will say they’ve heard that I’m really, really sick, and then my Dad will find the Corporate E-mail alias and tell them all that I’m a slut and that’s why I passed out.

After a glass of water I was fine. But I’m getting a little freaky about it. Just a little.

We’re having a birthday party tonight. Very festive. Our friend Bitter Chris. We call him that because he is going through a divorce (notice a trend?) and sometimes he starts talking about how love sucks. We’re crazy with the nicknames around here. Eric alone has, like, five.

So I’m being a little anti-social right now, and I’m feeling a little guilty. Plus, it’s aloe vera time. Hey, now.