8:44 a.m. - 2005-02-15
Bunnies? Beer. Bands. Blah, blah, blah.
I just had the most fucked up dream ever.
It was a work dream. A getting laid off dream. And a lot of it felt strangely real...the office looked much the same, the people were much the same...but for some reason, even though we were a law firm, we had animals that were being used for medical experiments. Cute little dwarf bunnies, to be exact. They were in little pet carriers in our offices. When we were told we were going to be laid off, no one knew what to do with the bunnies, so they were all going to be euthanized. Or just left to starve, or something. So of course I'm totally freaking out about the fate of the bunnies, and my bunnies are almost dead anyway, and no one knows what to do. clarity25 was in my dream, and I remember thinking if I said it was okay to leave the bunnies to whatever fate awaited them, she would be furious with me for not standing up for the bunnies' rights.
In the meantime, I was surfing Diaryland at work, as usual. Somehow, I came across the diary of a celebrity...I think it was Lindsey Lohan. Don't ask me why. I was partly skeptical that it was really her, and partly all sucked in to her drama with some boyfriend or something. I don't know why Lindsey Lohan, either. That was so weird. I haven't watched anything with her in it for a while...and I'm not like her biggest fan. She doesn't annoy me as much as a lot of those little teenybopper stars, so I guess that was okay, but I have no idea why she was in my dream.
In the meantime, I had to do some kind of HTML programming to close down my computer system, and some code involved the fate of the bunnies. And I was still freaking out because I couldn't keep them, but I didn't want them to be left to die. Then one of the lawyers on the project came downstairs with all these bunny toys. And he told me and my office mate that they were to keep the bunnies happy until their new owners arrived. But not my bunnies. My bunnies were old and sick. It was only for the NEW bunnies.
That's when I woke up. No idea. But it was very disturbing and weird.
BFRB made me go out Sunday night. TM came with us. We went to see some band, whose name I don't remember. They didn't utterly suck, but they weren't really memorable either. And the bar was a dive. Seriously.
After we got back from there, I went home, but they went to play pool at the bar next door to our apartments. Guess I should have gone. Evidently, people were stripping, men were flashing their sensitive-area piercings, and making out was done by all.
Really, though, I need to quit drinking all the time. Yesterday was painful. Not only did my head hurt, stomach gurgle, and body feel fatigued, I was extra-deluxe depressed. Of course, that could be partly because I have no job and the phone's not ringing. But I think it's more the alcohol's aftereffects.
BFRB and I went shopping yesterday, in the quest for the interview and/or work clothes and/or party wear. I actually found a few things, and they were all on clearance for 75% off. Sweet. BFRB needed to return some jeans. Then we had to go look for another pair. At this store called Hollister. It's like a bar, or something. It's loud. It's all claustrophobic and kind of dark and there's these big plants and shit everywhere. And I don't think there is one article of clothing in this store that will fit anyone who weighs over about 150. (Guy or girl.)
I try not to let places like this bother me. I mean, it's not that I have any jealousy issues with BFRB at all. It just makes me feel like the loser at the junior high dance being in the place. I just felt weird. I always feel like the employees are looking at me like I might pick something up and rip it at the seams by my sheer fatness, or that they're giving me these pitying looks when I'm examining the merchandise, watching me dig through the pile when they know there will be no size that would even come close to fitting.
I don't feel like that in most other stores...maybe it was just the hangover.
Today, more excitement awaits. Laundry. Errands. Fruitless checking of e-mail in hopes of employment opportunities appearing.
At least the kitties have forgiven me for being home during the day. My little Emily was being total Velcro yesterday. Maggie and Sissy even seem to have stopped the go-to-hell looks. Of course, now, they think that I need to (a) entertain and (b) feed them all day long.
I give up.
