Fairly crummy day today. I was dizzy to the point of nausea, simply because I had to get up & function after 4 1/2 hours of sleep. I tried my best to take it easy and begged off most of my responsibilities, meaning that I've been able to spend this evening in a state of sybaritic spendour - or the nearest thing to it, which in my case involves sunflower seeds AND chocolate chip ice cream. Bah. I'll lose my Venus of Willendorf belly some time when I'm not feeling like the spit-out gum of the world.
My weekend you know about: I marked until my eyes fell out of my head, and then I marked some more. The students, far from being grateful that their incessant pestering had yielded some returned work, were full of fun from a snow-induced 4-day weekend. In my 10 academic class (the class, incidentally, that was chosen to be evaluated), I had to pick a spitball out of my hair. I swear to God, I'm going to kill those little shits. This was only slightly mitigated by the fact that 2 boys in my last period class jokingly threatened to pound the tar out of the offenders.
"You just tell them that they're gonna get it from the mean-looking guy with the mohawk & the tall guy with the beard."
"He's not mean-looking," another student objected.
Ah, it warms the cockles of my heart.
The part of my weekend that was not characterized by grading, sorting & evaluating was full of friends & tiny ice-pellets. Saw Little Spider & Spike on Friday; met for dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant and retired to their living room to watch "Fubar." LS laughed her head off, more so because we knew many of these guys in our own convoluted trip through high school.
On Saturday I heeded the birthday call and met both the Boy & Dirk at the Garden for some birthday dancin'. They're instituting a cover on Saturdays, but it's all the same to Dirk as he hasn't been out dancing in approximately 8 months. Bizzarrely enough, when Dirk & I were at the bar chasing after cheap Rev, we were spotted by one of the owners & handed VIP registration passes, the idea being that if we bought a $5 pin, we wouldn't ever have to pay cover. This, of course, appealed to us. We three sat & caught up, I smoked like a chimney & the boys drank their cheap blue drinks. I danced a few times, most notably to "Sex Dwarf" (or as the Boy calls it, the unofficial anthem of Aleta-land); the notable part being that I requested it and Pale played it next. I have been a semi-regular at the Garden for almost 6 years, and I count it a good night when he plays a request 4 hours after I make it. (Actually, I count it a good night when he doesn't flat-out turn me down.) The Boy & I were over the moon.
But then we tried to buy 3 pins. They refused to sell us 3, claiming that without a VIP card it wasn't kosher (remember, we only had 2). Dirk & I asked for a card anyway, and we were promptly turned down. I see now that I should've politely asked for my money back, rather than join a list my husband couldn't be on simply because he had stayed in the booth when we rushed up for drinks. At the time, though, I wasn't thinking too clearly. And although I offered to return the pin, the Boy had fallen into a black mood that no amount of logic, humour, puppet shows or wedgies could yank him out of.
Trust me, I paid for that stupid pin with one of the worst arguments of my life. Really, really not worth it: even with "front of the line privileges."
My life is a dark pit of darkness.
