Viva la Dextromethorphan

Morning: 9:30am

This has suddenly appeared on my "blocked site" at work:

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I have no idea what the hell that means, but I'm posting this as fast as I possibly can.

There's so much crap I haven't been able to post because I'm out of internet. I've missed posting about the whole Michael Vick trial, my birthday is tomorrow (let's just let this one pass, unnoticed), I broke my toe, I'm really, really sick right now, but it's just a sinus infection gone "Viva La Revolucion" in my head to become a major head cold, which I think is now moving down into my chest, and many, MANY other things that need to be addressed.

My phone is TOTALLY dead right now, so if you have to get in touch with me, you can page me via the info I sent through email. If you didn't get one of those emails, then you probably don't need to page me. Or call me. You can email me, but I can't promise I'll respond, since I have no internet, except at work.

THIS SUX.

And, no, I don't want to celebrate my birthday. I already sat in the shower for 45 min yesterday, bawling my eyes out. Because I'm sick, because I miss my mom, because I'm old, because I'm fat, and because I'm alone. Please, for the sake of you AND your children, don't try to rebuke any of those, because I can guarantee to you that I'm not going to listen.

I went through with it and bought myself an $80 camera, which was already in the works when my phone went out. And, anyway, it's my money and my present to myself, so get off me. It's my present for being fat...and old. It should be getting here tomorrow, so I'm really glad about that. My next thing to save up for is getting those pics off that freaking fried drive of mine. I know I'm going to have to spend beaucoups (otherwise known as "bookoo" or "boocoo") money on that. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that the next thing to eat my money will be my car. It's making this weird sound when I drive and brake, which I don't have to do lots of, thankfully.

Right now, I'm just trying to feel better. I actually haven't been this kind of sick in a long, long time, which has been nice. I just nitpick at every little thing, because there's nothing else going on in my life, which is totally awesome and makes for fun and interesting things to talk about at parties. ("Who is that weird, boring chick in the corner over there, hoarding the vegetable platter?")


So, I went binge drinking a couple of weeks ago, with some close friends. I would like to say that before you get all judgemental {first off, you might want to stop reading}, I don't have any kids (although my cats DO count, they're just more self-sufficient than most 1 and 3-year-olds), I was invited to do it (or rather instructed), I was completely coherent as to what I was doing, I've been incredibly depressed, and for God's sake, I'M TURNING 30. This age thing is not going over well with my psyche. Needless to say, I had a great time, even though I woke up at a person's house wearing no pants or shoes, that were both covered in vomit, out in the carport. I also vomited profusely in this person's car. My backside was covered in ant bites and my underpants had leaves in them. My dried vomit-covered hair had dead leaves all tangled in it. I had to actually take a pick in the shower with me, to pick through my hair, to get all the crap out - I then had to get a BROOM AND DUSTPAN to get all that crap off the shower floor.

I heard the story of "T'was the Night of Drinking," and frankly, I couldn't stop laughing. I'll have to see if I can get one of my friends to write me up a synopsis of what happened, and let me omit the names, because I don't know that they want to be associated with the likes of me. (Just kidding, girls!) Apparently, I was so entertaining that they actually took pictures. &=) One asked the other, "do you think this is mean, taking pictures?" The other responds, "Probably. But she would have wanted it this way." In the ones where I'm passed out, looking like a dead body on the side of the road, they actually got down in the pictures with me. And, I have to say, I would never have gone drinking with people who didn't totally love me enough to take care of me, purple panties, vomit-covered clothes and all. One of the girls said she hadn't had that much fun or laughed that hard in a long time - hey, you know me - always willing to entertain! &=)

Anyway, I think while we were sitting outside my house talking, and I was milling around on the porch, contemplating my next place for public urination, I must have fallen off and broken my toe. Because I woke up the next day, and my toe was black and blue and hurting like crazy. I puked and dry heaved to the point that I busted a HUGE vessel in my right eye, so that's gotten me LOADS of phone numbers.......to AA.


Ok, and just to let EVERYONE know, I've officially and legally gone back to my maiden name, which is "Braxton," for those of you who didn't know me pre-Harper. Mentally, it's been a good deal harder than I had originally thought it would be, giving up the "Harper" name. But coupled with the birthday thing, I think it's just a recipe for disaster, of which I have so many, I'm publishing a book! &=)

I've had this thing with change, since my mom died, where I just think that as long as things are constantly changing (usually by my hand), I won't get settled into any one thing and get comfortable, so that when it's taken away from me, I won't be able to deal. I think that's part of the reason I keep moving so much. I was doing it with jobs, too, but I kinda like this job. And, until I do get things sorted out (YES, I still want to join the Peace Corps), I would like to stay here, as long as they don't change the locks on me. I'm afraid I wouldn't know how to stop working here if they DID fire me. I'd be like Milton from Office Space - got fired and hasn't been paid in 3 months, but still showing up for work. All for the love of a stapler. Or in my case, a C-arm, of which cannot be purchased at the Office Depot.

So, I'm Jennifer Marie Braxton, once again.

I loathe being single.

But I refuse to shack up with a loser. Well, anyone who's more a loser than me.

Hey, I'm not a complete and TOTAL loser - I have now begun to recycle! More on that later, though.

Right now, this loser is going to find a trash can into which I can dump my mountain of gross, snotty tissues. If the whole, entire hospital isn't infected with this whatever I have, I'm going to be really surprised. I've tried to keep my mouth covered, keep my germs to myself, and wash my hands until they're bleeding, but you know how it is. I'm just about ready to snort a bottle of bleach to see if that will get rid of it. The common cold - the weenie of diseases.