more excuses

I’m glad Irwin’s giving some excuses as to why the very last thing I want to do right now is write a blog entry. It’s 12:30 in the morning and I’ve just finished writing something that’s due tomorrow. This is the first night in a week that I got home from work before midnight. I got home at 11:15. I’m crazy tired. Whacked-out tired. Tired like I just realized I originally typed this without Irwin’s online pseudonym and then wondered what would happen if I’d outed him and then I giggled because I still need to get him back somehow for capping on my hair last week.

[scripty]
Pamie
Holy crap, it’s early, but we just left here and now we’re here again and do you know what we’re supposed to be writing right now?

Irwin
You look good today, pamie.

Pamie
[after a beat]
Asshole.

[Pamie runs to the bathroom and fixes her hair, which was messed up because it was cold and raining.]

Pamie
Better?

Irwin
Yes.

[a few seconds later]

Kimberly
You look lovely today.

Pamie
Would you do me a favor and tell Irwin what you just said?

Kimberly
[into phone] Why you busting on my girl?

Irwin
Did pamie tell you that she only looks lovely because I told her to pull herself together?

[I know both parts of this conversation because these two are sitting ten feet away from each other.]

Irwin
Did you see her when she came in?

Kimberly
Oh. Actually. Well. I don’t know if I should say anything, but my friends have this expression… “Rode hard and put away wet?”

Pamie
I am through with all y’all.
[/scripty]

And as Irwin mentioned, last Tuesday I thought it was Friday. Actually, just about every day this week I thought it was Friday. When you leave work on Monday when it’s actually Tuesday, it might as well be Friday. I woke up Tuesday at 5:30 (I’d gotten home at 12:30) for my 7am call thinking I was late. Full-on late-for-school-missed-a-test panic, walking down the hallway chanting, “No, my call is seven. My call is seven. My call is seven. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

So I’m sorry I’ve been away. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve had a headache in my eye for three days. I’m gonna go try and get a couple of hours sleep.

[Note: This doesn’t mean if you’re my friend you get to stop calling or emailing, going, “Well, you seemed so busy.” I need you to call me, understand? Pretend I’m away at camp or school and this blog is the postcard I sent that says, “I’m having a great time. Please send pictures of home because I miss you.”]