So I am planning a birthday thing for myself.  The only confirmed atendee: Ang.  Well, to be honest I haven't tecnhically "invited" her yet.

I have a grand weekend planned full of booze and men.  Hot ones.  I know where to get the booze, just have to find the men.

Not to mention the little detail of inviting people.

All at a sooper seekrit location of course.  If you want the password just ask.  Because, you know, I'm exclusive like that.

I'm tired.

Something has to give.  Well, that may not be the correct verbage, but that is what it feels like.  It may be more proper to state that something has to change.  Waking up wondering if you are going to have a job gets old.  People changing the rules gets old.  I know, I know, I'm not the only person in the world dealing with this shit, but it feels like it most days.

I suppose I shouldn't bitch.  I can still pay my bills.  Maybe I just need to have more fun.  Maybe I need to get laid.  Maybe I need to exercise the grey matter more.  Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Speaking of... I am sick and fucking tired of listening to people bitch about the economy.  Deal with it.  If you have 7 mortgages and suddenly find yourself unable to pay for even one that's not my fault.  I don't want to listen to you whine.  If you gambled all your money away and can't pay your bills, that is also not my fault.  I don't want to listen to your diatribe about that either. 

So yeah.  I'm a tad unstable at the moment.  Swinging like a monkey in a banana tree.  I feel unpretty and lonely while at the same time I don't want to deal with anyone.  When mom was here last week I enjoyed the relative anonymity of being on the Strip.  I didn't know anyone and they didn't know me.  Down there you can be anything you want and no one will know the difference.  Because, you know, I still hate the general public enough to not actually talk to them.  Hey, it works for me.

Just sharing my current obsession.  I had to make him the wallpaper on the work desktop as well as the laptop.  Behold...

Just moments ago I came across the disturbing news that there is a craptastic theme cruise planned.  My immediate thoughts were conveyed to Ang via IM.

Zombie: There is going to be a Twilight cruise.  Wonder if it will get hijacked?
Zombie: And if it does I hope it is by real vampires.  heh

I am so pissed I can't see straight.  It takes a lot to get to me enough that I cry and shake and it was done at the unceremonious time of 5:50am.

There is one thing I do not tolerate.  Especially from someone I have known for 15+ years.  Do. Not. Lie. To. Me. Period.

I don't know what the fuck makes you think that I am going to take that shit now when I didn't take it when I had known you for 6 months.  You lied to me about the exact same thing no less.  Good to know you haven't changed.

You are an adult.  You can watch whatever you want, but when I ask you about it, don't lie.  Especially when you know I saw you.  And it isn't like I was sneaking around.  I went to the bathroom so, you know, I can clearly see the computer on my way. 

You fucking idiot.

For whatever reason I have this insane urge to travel.  It is probably just my escapist attitude boiling up again.  Whenever things in my world turn to shit, it always seems like a trip will solve everything.  We all know it won't.

Last night I went swimming for the first time in forever.  That means I had to wear a swimsuit.  In public.  Than goodness it was dark.  It took me forever to find the damn thing since I (a) hadn't seen it since mom was out a couple years ago and (b) well, I obviously rarely go swimming.  There is both good and bad news to report about said swimsuit.  The bad news: It is too big.  The good news: It is too big.  While dry it appears that it will be okay to wear, but when wet.... yeah.  I gotta find a new suit.  Joy.

The last month or so has been filled with various weekend outings.  I can honestly say that during my entire 12 years in this city I have not gone and done as much as I have since Ang moved out here.  That is one of the pitfalls of not driving I suppose.  And living with someone that's.... well, nevermind.  Of course now I am catching crap about going out and the few evenings we decided to have adult beverages.  Apparently I am both a boozer and an individual with loose morals.  If only...  Hey, I never touched that waiter!  I wanted to though, I mean, he was hot in a Sam Trammell kind of way.

So, no dwelling on the things that have been said or done.  Gotta look forward.  I mean, I do have a weekend of debauchery to plan for in September and another one in October.  Not to mention the many weekends in between, however, those will probably be of a more impromtu nature.

Supposidly I am will be going to the gym about 4 days a week starting tomorrow.  The friend that will be going with is notorious for bailing on me though.  I've only been attempting to start this for about three months.  If it falls through again I do have a backup plan.  Finally.  I have plans man and they include my losing more weight.

On a side note... my pool antics last night have apparently resulted in a swollen sore foot.  If this keeps me from going to workout I am gonna be pissed.

I just finished watching Black Book.  It is a great movie.  I suggest everyone see it even if it is in German.  However, I now must find everything I can by one terribly handsome Sebatian Koch.

Holy mackrel.

From 2001 - 2004 I worked the World Series of Poker at Binion's.  Every night I worked was something different, something memorable.  I literally worked just about every non-tournament position in the poker room at some point: comp clerk supervisor, cashier, chip runner, brush, floor and the last two years I worked tournament registration at the request of the tournament manager.  I have many stories that I can never in a million years forget.  OH and I were discussing some of the things that took place during those years.

I knew a lot of names, but no faces.  OH was prominent in the home game scene in Dallas in the late 80s and early 90s.  He was a world class gin player at the age of 18.  Two of his best friends were champion bowlers and another was a poker player of legend.  So here I was working with all the people I knew by name and reputation only.  I was still cute and rather slim then with a decent rack so mistakes were not met with much harsh treatment and if they were someone would always tell them who I was the girlfriend of and all was forgiven for the most part.

My first year was spent as a comp clerk supervisor.  One of the things I did was page for phone calls mainly because people liked my fake phone voice.  So one night I paged this douchebag by his actual name since that was who the caller asked for.  Heaven forbid I not be all knowing and page him by his nickname.  So Captain Douchebag comes flying up to the cage and proceeds to go off on me.  A certain portion of the male population thinks that the only way to deal with a woman is to attempt to intimidate them.  Well, he met his match.  I don't intimidate easily.  My problem is not losing my temper and punching someone.

So here he is, screaming at me, the action at the tables closest to the cage has all but stopped so they can see what is going on.  I let him go on and on.  What the fuck do I care?  As far as I am concerned he is just another prick poker player.  Because, contrary to what the media wants you to believe there are more cocksuckers in poker than not.  Nevermind the fact that he also works in the poker room as a dealer, but during the Series everyone thinks they are someone. 

Through the entire episode I had shown zero emotion.  This bastard isn't worth it.  I looked at him and said something to the effect of, "Well, have you ever considered wearing a name tag so people know what you want to be called?"  Captain Douchebag came unfuckingglued and spouted the traditional response of a nobody, "Do you know who I am?!"  By this point the floor, who is a friend, is standing there obviously lost as to what to do.  I mean, after all I was just a temp employee and a lot of people wanted to work the Series.  I merely said, "You look like a cocksucker to me.  Now get the fuck out of my face before I come out from behind the counter."  Both of them just looked at me with expressions that can only be explained as sheer amazement.  Never once did I raise my voice.  He never spoke to me again and I was heartbroken.

Had I been someone else I may have lost my job.  What Captain Douchebag didn't know was that his manager had asked me to work the Series.  She knew I wasn't going to take any shit from the players and I wasn't going to let them con me.  I can play cute and stupid as well as the next chick to get tokes.  I know how to deal with people and I know how to put them in their place when needed.

I think that since the Series is about to hit town I shall start posting about events that took place then.  Some involve famous individuals, some don't, but they are all amusing.  At least to me and well, that's all that matters now isn't it?

Things at work are tense to say the very least.  I'm not happy about the situation, but I don't think I am going to give a shit anymore.  It does me absolutely no good to worry about it.  I mean, its not like I am going to sleep with a member of the legislature to keep my pay and/or job and/or benefits intact.  I do have some standards and at no point in time will a politician be in my standard range.  Unless, of course, they want to buy me shiny things. 

I like shiny things. 

And apparently hillbillies.

This is exactly my problem right now.  Well, not the being on TV part.  The brain part.  The total lack of cooperation on said gray matter's part I might add.

clearly, my plan to kill it with beer isn't working