Friday 6 March 2015

I was waiting for someone, something to happen
Something ridiculous climbing the walls
And falling in what I now would call your bluff
Please don't call it love
I figured out fairly quickly why Caleb was so easygoing and jovial over the beginning of the week and on his birthday. I figured it out from my seat in the tiny plane as I stared into the bottom of my champagne bubbles because I've decided that if he's going to pull this shit all the time then I'm just going to get rip-roaring drunk and be so obnoxious he'll never want to bring me anywhere again.

And at a glistening dandelion-fluff weight of ninety-seven pounds, this is going well. It's far easier than I thought and I'm pulling a buzz nice enough to remember my punctuation but forget I can't yell fuck off across a crowded restaurant.

(Sorry if you were there. That was me and I really didn't need him pulling out my chair like some sort of gentleman, because he isn't.)

No more restaurants. Only take-out but that's okay, the hotel delivers alcohol and he's BUSY which means I can get shitfaced on a Friday morning, a Thursday evening and hopefully a Saturday too. Which is funner than I remember. Must be the different between good liquor and the cheap stuff we buy because half of us are unemployed and undereducated and the other half who know their booze don't drink anymore. They are sophisticated. I am clearly not.

That's fucking fine by me.

Lake Tahoe, I love you but I don't want to be here right now so I'll just apologize in advance because the only way to deal with him trying to talk to me is to put my headphones on and sing Fiction Family songs at him at the top of my lungs.

I only know two-thirds of the words! Go me!