Compulsory Cocktails

The CEO of my company just sent out an office wide email.   The subject was : “Mandatory Happy Hour Meeting – 4:00 Today”.

Yes, you read that right.   At 4:00 today, my company will be hosting an Happy Hour, and I am required to go.   I am required to sip on a cocktail (I suppose they would let me have a soda.  I mean, they’re not going to hold my nose and pour Captain Morgan’s down my throat) and eat poo poos.    I guess that’s what they mean by “Keeping it Real.”

We’re hiring, by the way, if any of you are into getting messed up while working with and for a bunch of swillers.

Just sayin’.

Or Not

No more than six hours after I wrote that last blog, I was struck by the urge to jump in my car, and get the hell out of here.

Maybe someday, I’ll actually grow some guts, and go for it.    One day, maybe, I’ll pull a Kerouac, and I’ll just be gone.    I’ll pack up my car, head out, and return I don’t know when.

For now, I’m shackled by fear and student loan debt.

Fear not; I’m probably not going anywhere.

Baby, it’s gorgeous outside. says that it’s only 59 in San Francisco right now.   I don’t know if that’s an accurate reading for Treasure Island.   Where I’m sitting, it feels much more like 70.

Where am I sitting?   On my back patio.   In my reclining canvas camping chair.  I’m in shorts and a tank top.   Slathered up with what’s left of last summer’s SPF 45.  (I’m pale.  What can I say?)   There’s a slight breeze moving the trees.   The grass is green.  My plants, Rhonda, Lola, and Joni, are happy.   Joni even has some flowers.

I have repurposed my cereal cannister to make sun tea.

I took a walk earlier, on the jogging path along the water.   The bay is packed with sail boats, and you can see further than further.   San Francisco, Sausalito, Richmond, Berkeley, Oakland, and further.

Maybe all I really needed was a little sunshine.   Because, for the first time in awhile, I’m exactly where I want to be, and I’m not dreaming of running away.

Life doesn’t stink so bad after all.

And hey, aren’t my friends awesome.    Isn’t my new boyfriend amazing?

I am a Cat.

The thing is, I’m nocturnal.   And by nocturnal, I don’t mean it as in “I like the night life.  I like to boogie” choice in the matter kind of way.    I mean in the, the sun is going down, and suddenly I perk up, and want to scavenge and play.    Right when you’re ready to go to bed, I’m ready to pounce on you, claw you, and run back under the bed.   I mean it in the, it doesn’t matter that I’ve been up since 5 a.m., feeling like butt all day, chugging coffee, tea, and soda to fight the “Bobble-Head PeggyLu” effect in my cube, but now that it’s 9 p.m., I’m just coming into a good mood, I want to chatter and maybe clean the whole house, can’t sit still, kind of way.

This is something that I had always kind of known about myself, and didn’t put a lot of thought into.  As long as I can remember, I’ve always been much more alert in the evening.   My mother has confirmed that I’ve been this way since infancy, and claims that it’s because I was born in the later afternoon that I am such a night person.  

The thing is, I guess I had never really thought about how this could/would affect my interpersonal interactions.   I had taken for granted that everyone but my grandfather stays up until midnight.   Boy, what a rude awakening.  (Pardon the semi-pun.)


There’s nothing worse than being wide awake at someone else’s house at 10 at night, when they’re about two seconds from being irreparably unconscious.   At least when I’m at home, and I can’t sleep, there’s about twelve thousand books, a handful of DVDs, endless numbers of CDs, and of course, the insomniacs best friend, MySpace.


So, despite the fact that I am working on about three hours of sleep, if you’re up and want to chat at midnight, chances are, I’ll be awake, too.   Drop me an email or leave me a “Comment”.

 And I’d like to apologize in advance for any pouncing I might do.   Or any poking or prodding or any other attempts to get you to wake up and entertain me.    Like, say, I don’t know, pulling on your lip and letting it slap into place, making a little plopping noise.

  Just sayin’.



Playlist: Violator
By Depeche Mode


Current mood: awake