Monday, November 24, 2008


Or should I say, of course?

It seems you shouldn't be able to say both about the same thing, right? But then, I feel like I live in a world of oxymorons. And regular morons, too.

I think I must be depressed. I've been sleeping a lot lately. Like, a LOT. I didn't work this past Friday; instead of taking advantage of having a day off, though, I pretty much slept my day away. Took about a 4 hour nap in the middle of the day. Even though I'd gone to bed early the night before ... and I was STILL able to go to bed early Friday night.

So maybe you could write that off as a fluke, right? I just really, really needed the rest. Except that I napped TWICE on Saturday. First I just woke up early, for a Saturday, like 6 or so; so I had cereal for breakfast, watched a little tv, and by 9 I was asleep again, on the sofa, tv going and book in hand (and cats perched on hip and snuggled behind bent knee). Slept about 2 hours. Woke up, tried to shake off the sleep and do some house chores for a few hours ... then sat down to "read" again, and within 5 minutes I was asleep. For a couple more hours.

So by Saturday night I should totally be done with all this sleeping stuff, right? Yeah ... I went to bed about 9:30 Saturday night. And slept for 10 hours.

So Sunday. I've now wasted two days pretty much just sleeping, right? I should be done. But no ... I nap again. Only this time, I at least only nap for ONE hour. But did I really accomplish much of anything with the rest of my day? No, not really; I still felt totally lazy, and all I could seem to muster up the energy to do was to start a new book.

This book though I actually ended up reading all in one day. It was pretty good, that book. But then again, it's hard to say how much of it was that it was a good book, and how much of it was that I am pretty boring these days. I seem to do nothing much more than sleep and read; no energy, desire, motivation, etc., to do anything else.

But anyway, the point is, given how the past few days have gone, I should have no trouble sleeping tonight. I mean, I must be fucking depressed or something, to be sleeping as much as I've been sleeping the past few days. I didn't seem to have trouble napping, or sleeping 10 hours even after a long nap, two days in a row ... so why should today be any different?

Except that of course today is fucking Sunday, which means I go back to work tomorrow, and for some reason, my body rejects the idea of getting enough sleep the night before a day of actual work. Got a 3-day weekend to enjoy? Great, I'll fucking sleep right through it, rather than do anything interesting. But need to rest through a night so I can get up and go to work like a normal person the next day, not a monster who didn't get enough sleep and is a total grouch and can hardly function? Well you can guaran-fucking-tee that means I won't sleep at all that night ... or at least, I won't fall asleep until at least two hours before my alarm is set to go off; just enough time to get into some deep REM shit before I get jerked out of it and have to go off and be a lawyer for 9 hours on 2 hours of shitty sleep.

What the fuck is up with that?

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


I normally like looking at glam photos of celebs in magazine spreads such as you sometimes find in Vogue and Vanity Fair and what not, two magazines that I pick up from time to time for browsing fun. But I'm not normally actually turned on by looking at such photos.

Except for this morning, when I saw this picture of Kate Winslet, channeling Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour, a movie I remember seeing with my boyfriend back in college at one of those neat little movie theaters that shows nothing but old movies. I remember that he and I both said afterwards that we'd thought going in that there'd be more graphic sex in it than there was; I also remember that we nevertheless found it erotic, and that we went back to his room and fucked soon after the movie.

Well I don't know if it's just the picture itself, or if it's the association of the picture with that movie, which conjured up a specific erotic memory, but damn ... I'm aroused:

Well done Kate, and Vanity Fair.

Monday, November 3, 2008


If you read my last post, you know that I played hooky from work on Friday. I had a half-legitimate excuse, in that I had jury duty. But after I was excused from jury duty at 10:30 a.m., I decided that I'd pretend for my office's sake that I'd been picked to serve on a jury that day, so that I'd have an excuse for not going into work the rest of the day. My boss had actually taken the day off Friday - she'd given notice in advance that she was going to take a leave day Friday; so when I called the office around lunchtime to use my "damn, I got picked today" jury excuse, I spoke to our paralegal, who said she'd take care of anything that came up while I was out.

Having given the excuse of being picked for a jury, of course I had to come up with some basic details about the case that I supposedly served on, knowing that my boss would know I hadn't come in to work Friday and that she would ask about the case I'd said I'd been picked for. I thought up a short and sweet story while I was showering this morning, and crossed my fingers that she wouldn't ask too many extra questions. My biggest fear was that she'd ask something that seems pretty innocuous about the case or the experience of serving on the jury, and that I wouldn't be able to come up with a sensible answer fast enough that fit my story, and that I'd be caught. My plan was to distract her with another topic as soon as I'd given my few basic lies, thinking that I could satisfy any curiosity she might have and then quickly make her forget about it.

So I went into work this morning, and of course, my boss came into my office within the first 15 minutes I was there and asked how jury duty went. She'd heard I'd been picked. So I fed her my made-up details about the case with what I hoped was a look of sincerity. Then I prepared myself to quickly change the subjects.

But that's when my boss surprised me. She'd caught on to the hooky-playing.

Oh, but here's the best part: not MY hooky-playing. Oh no; it turns out that on Friday afternoon, after I'd called in with the news that I wouldn't be in the rest of the day as I fulfilled my civic duty, my paralegal decided to take advantage of my boss and I both being out of the office, and she snuck out without telling anyone. And went shopping. Only to run into my boss, who happened to be shopping at the same store Friday afternoon, and who was surprised to see our paralegal browsing and choosing clothes to try on, since our paralegal was supposed to be working all day. My boss said that when she called out our paralegal's name in the store, she looked up, looked shocked for a couple seconds at seeing our boss, and then said "oops ... busted."

It's kind of funny. On the one hand, I'm kind of sympathetic to our paralegal; I kind of want to defend her for playing hooky on a Friday afternoon when none of her direct supervisors were in the office, to say it's not a big deal - and I kind of want to also take her aside and say to her, hey, if you're gonna play hooky, don't risk the chance, small as it may have seemed at the time, that you'd run into anyone from the office who had the day off legitimately while doing your shopping or what have you; find something else to do instead. On the other hand, I'm kind of thankful that our paralegal had the bad luck to get busted like that by our boss out shopping on Friday; after all, it did totally distract my boss from asking any more questions about my own excuse for playing hooky on Friday. And like a smart hooky-player, I didn't go out shopping in town where I might potentially run into my boss; I played it smart, stayed at home and got drunk off my ass for no good reason. Yep, smart.