i’m tired

and xeney tried to start some shit

I am so tired.  This whole week every day I get up I’m just a little more tired.  Last night was long– after work I went straight to rehearsal and then we had a performance.  I hadn’t eaten, and I was really tired and mopey.  The place where we were booked was next to empty, so I volunteered to be a “laugher,” since the cast seriously outweighed the house.  Thankfully, they decided that was a good idea, so I drank glass after glass of water and yelled suggestions and laughed.  Three hours later at midnight I was on my way home.  I picked up some dinner, ate it, talked with Eric for a while and then we went to sleep.  It feels like I never got to sleep at all.

I had one of those dreams where you weren’t really sure you were dreaming and even after you’re awake you have to keep convincing yourself it was just a dream.  I mentioned that we got digital cable last week.  Well, last night when we came home the television and the cable box wouldn’t turn on.  You could go right up to the television and press the “power” button and nothing would happen.  After checking all of the connections I called the cable company and they sent some sort of signal and it turned everything back on.  We didn’t even watch anything.  We just went right to sleep.  This explains (in some part) my dream.

In the dream Eric had been angry that I spent so much money getting us digital cable.  I hadn’t really, but in the dream I had.  He was angry because this dream world digital cable didn’t really give you a bunch of channels, but rather made it possible for you to order extra shows and things from pay per view.  Now this is sort of correct, because with the digital cable came thirty-three pay per view channels.  At any time, at any moment, on any day for the next year I can watch Saving Private Ryan.  Anyway, in the dream, Eric just got really pissed about it.  He and Chuy had been sitting around drinking and Cathy and I were trying to figure out some Scrabble game or something and Eric just picked up the remote control and started pressing all of these buttons.

“I’m just going to order me a shitload of shows.  That’s what this thing is for, right?”

And I’m going, “NO!  We pay like four dollars extra a show!  Don’t just order without looking?”

“I don’t care.  It’s my cable, and I’m gonna watch me some cable.”

And he started just pushing all of the pay per view buttons and he was ordering show after show after show– shows that were going on at five in the morning… shows that he’s never seen… shows you can get without pay per view.

“You just ordered three hours of ‘Sanford and Son!’  Who’s gonna watch three hours of ‘Sanford and Son!'”

Cathy jumped in.  “Eric, I think you’re spending, like, two hundred dollars, there.”

“No,” Chuy said, “More like two-fifty.  Money, you might want to cancel some of that.”

“We’re watching my cable, dammit.  This is what we spent all that money to get, right?  We might as well take advantage of it!”

And then he made us sit down and watch a movie.

Have you ever had a dream where you are watching a movie?  There’s really nothing more boring.  I even remember parts of the movie, because in the dream Eric had turned it on in the middle, and since we were spending four bucks on it I was trying to understand what was going on.

I woke up soon after, feeling like I had spent all night watching movies and telling Eric I wasn’t going to pay for his little outburst.

And I was brushing my teeth telling myself, “That didn’t happen.  It didn’t happen. Stop worrying about the cable bill.”

But I’m so tired that as I sit here every once in a while my brain goes, “How are we going to pay for that cable bill?  Well, I’m not paying for it.  Let Eric pay for it.  He wanted to watch the four hour ‘Mama’s Family’ marathon.”

So stupid.

I find it ironic that since this is the first boyfriend I’ve had where we don’t fight like cats and dogs, I just end up fighting with him in my dreams.  My brain isn’t truly happy unless it’s a little paranoid.

Oh, I really am tired.

I finished reading Hannibal.  I didn’t like it.  If you want to know why, go here (broken link).  If you’re still reading or plan to, you probably don’t want to read that link yet.  No one buys my book recommendations anymore.

I shoot the next City Hunter today and tomorrow.  Resting up my screaming voice with a little Green Tea and honey.  I was hoping it would wake me up, but so far not so good.

I was just going to upload this with nothing else until I popped over to xeney.com and noticed that Miss Xeney blamed me for the torture of her puppy yesterday.  As we all know, animals can get in the way of Tae-Bo.  Apparently Miss Xeney just decided not to heed my warnings and attempt Tae-Bo without protecting her tiny puppy.  Maybe she didn’t even read my warning.  Maybe she just read a couple of my entries and figured, “Well, if everyone else is going to write about Tae-Bo I should too,” and just picked a tape up at Target and just tried to do it.  “If she can do it, so can I.”

Well, Miss Xeney (if that is your real name), I hope you’ve learned a lesson.  As Billy Blanks ™ has told us time and time again, Tae-Bo is a tool.  It’s a tool and a weapon to make yourself a better person.  It makes you stronger and more confident.  It makes you wake up earlier, work harder, file taxes earlier, merge into traffic safer and– dare I say it– makes you a better pet owner.  And if you think that you can blame me for roundhouse kicking your puppy when you’d only done that instructional video once?  I think it’s pretty truthful to say here that you’re the puppy abuser.  That dog was not prepared for what you were going to do.  That’s the whole point of the instructional.  You think it’s so you can figure out where to kick?  Nonsense.  It’s for the animal, who’s used to just nipping at your ankles, to look at you moving in slow motion and go, “What?  She’s lifting her leg.  She’s putting it back down.  She’s lifting her leg. She’s putting it back down.  I have to pee.  Lifting leg.  Down.  Lifting leg.  Down.  Oh, now it’s faster.  I’d better back up.  Looks like she’s going to be doing it for a while.  I could get hurt if she keeps lifting her– she’s really serious about lifting this leg and putting it back down.  Sometimes she lifts the other one.  Jeez.  There’s really no place for me around here.  I’m gonna sit over here and lick myself.”

That’s what the instructional is for.  Miss Xeney, you just assumed that it was all about you.  For shame, Miss Xeney– or should I say Miss Puppy Kicker?  Miss Puppy Kicker who runs the site Bad Dog Days?  Miss… .shhan….fwrra……if I wasn’t so sleepy I would have come up with something really witty for the third name.  Comedy comes in threes, you know, so just know that that last one would have been a real doozy if I wasn’t so damn tired.

I’ve said my piece.

I was going to say that I was glad Xeney had picked the tape up, because if she likes it and starts ordering more, I wanted her to get the Advanced Live 1 tape, because every time I do it there’s one woman working out that I always imagine is what Xeney looks like.  She’s blonde and pretty and powerful and looks like she uses Tae-Bo to work off her aggression.  I’m always shouting, “Go, Beth!  Go!” when I see her.

Speaking of Tae-Bo, the decision has been made.  I’m going to New Orleans.  Every silent moment that occurs between Eric and I for the past two days has been ended with Eric going, “How exciting is New Orleans going to be, yo?”

But I’m pretty sure I’m going to have some scouts out at the Tae-Bo show.  I’m sending a special team of reporters.  If they wake up in time, we’ll still get the scoop.

Oh, and I forgot to mention… .zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz WHU?  WHO?  WAH?  Where am I?  What am I going to do about that cable bill?  Why does Eric torture me with Sanford and Son?  Where’s my spleen?  I’m lost!

I’m getting out while the getting’s good.

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