If only Summer Rain would Fall...

Jack Shit to do today. Boo, boring work day.

I'm currently obsessed with the Decemberists. They're coming in May and I think I've invited everyone I possibly know to join me at the concert. Ani's coming to NJ also in April and I'm so down for that. Funny note on the Decemberists, though. Or maybe not funny. I'm just so bored so I'm going to write it.

So last Friday was pretty fuzzy as far as Fridays go, but I remember this conversation quite well. Remember that CD that I stole from Flatplex? Well, of course...

You know what? That story is totally uninteresting. It was Junebug's mix. End of story. I apologized to him for virtually destroying it with my break-up abuse of it. But I was falling asleep just thinking about it.

Damnit. Why can't anything be epic for me today? I have oodles of time on my hands here, kids. And I could ask if there's anything more for me to do, but I know there is and I can't decide if doing boring work is better than just being bored. Maybe I'll catch up on some emails. Maybe I'll take a three hour lunch. Maybe I'll solve the world hunger issue.

I am going to go smoke a cigarette now. Maybe two.

Be back in a sec.

Ugh.

It's so gross out today. Yesterday was lovely and cool, and today it is cold and raining. Not just raining, though. Snow mixed in there too. Lyle calls it "snain," which I find amusing. Snain is the worst weather phenomenon ever. It's just too much. I can handle snow. I can handle rain. Snain makes me want to kill myself. It's the type of day that if I had paid vacation, I'd just stay home with a beer (or two, or three...) a joint, and many movies and just not leave my womb-bed. Also, since in this fantasy I have paid vacation, there'd be a cute boyfriend who would stay in bed with me and rub my lower back. But, alas. I'm at a computer.

This is amusing though, speaking of my womb-bed and activities that occur (or don't) there...

In the middle of the night a few nights ago, Devon calls out, "Stop what you're doing." He had told me earlier he wakes up if I go out for a cigarette in the middle of the night and asked me not to do it. So I thought he was referring to that. I responded that I wasn't doing anything. No response from him, so I chalked it up to him talking in his sleep. The next night, he says the same thing, and I say, "What are you talking about?" He says, "It sounds like you're masturbating." WHAT?

I got paranoid. I've been having a lot of sex dreams lately. When Ashlee and I lived together, we would joke about when you have those dreams where you have an orgasm and we worried that maybe when we had those dreams the other would hear. I checked where my hands were--wrapped around Fluffy, as usual. Not in any dangerous location. So I replied to Devon, "I don't do that when you're here and I'm sleeping, for God's sake." He replies, "Maybe it was a dream."

My roommate is dreaming about me masturbating. Awesome. Me in Devon's subconscious seems to be doing alright for herself. Go Dream Carrie.

That story is also not very interesting. Damn, I'm boring. I should get drunk and do something stupid just so I have something to write about.

Just kidding. Although I'm sure that will happen soon enough.

I'm pretty tapped out of things to talk/write about.

Oh, I did have another laughing fit yesterday, apart from the whole bird-shitting-on-me thing. I got to rehearsal way too early so I went into this dollar store next door. I'm just perusing for something pretty, and then I notice what song is playing. It's "All Cried Out." I have no idea why this was so hilarious to me, but I pictured some heartbroken girl coming into the dollar store to make herself feel better and then crying because that song came on. And then I started laughing like a hyena. It was a beautiful image, and I'm sure the image to others of some curly-haired chick in hysterics was also probably pretty good.

As far as rehearsal, I hate what I'm doing with my part. What the hell is wrong with me? Eek.

And that's all she wrote.