This is my very last time sitting in this particular Starbucks. My job in this plaza is done. Finito. Hasta la pasta buster.
I hate goodbye’s – I really loathe them. One of my coworkers went all out and bought me a card and several presents for my trip to Nepal. It was really touching and thoughtful. I have trouble with touching and thoughtful because they’re too much for me to handle. I’m too sensitive and sentimental so any touching expressions hit me hard in a place where there are no words.
I’m sitting here in Starbucks with the sun shining in my face. I can’t stop yawning and rubbing my eyes. I slept so well these past few days, acquiring well over the recommended amount. I am after all, a professional sleeper. I know of no other who can sleep 14 hours in a single day, or take naps on a whim other than cat’s and old men in recliners. I am blessed with the gift of sleep but the only problem is it makes me so damn groggy.
Two clients remain before I can sneak out of ME without causing any more touching goodbye sentiments.
I’m leaving for Nepal soon. Today is Feb 22 and I leave March 4th. I’ve gotten very little exercise to prepare myself for the Annapurna Circuit. Practically none, really.
Last Friday I went out with one of my girlfriends. We started the night at the Cadillac Ranch where we got bumped and pushed while line dancing.
Did you know that line dancer’s are nuts? I’m going to get in trouble for saying that because they’re everywhere and overtaking the population. But if you ever get caught dancing creatively on the line dance floor, you will get pushed and cattle prodded by your so-called friendly neighbors. Breakdancing for example, is shunned at a cowboy bar. If I were to breakdance at the Cadillac Ranch, Indiana Jones and the temple of Doom’s fire pit would emerge beneath me and I’d fall to my death chanting “Um nump she body Um nump she body,” after getting my beating heart ripped out of my chest by a line dancer of course.
Unfortunately for me, the floor attracts my spinning back like poop on boots once I get moving and grooving with a belly full of beer.
Me and my friend escaped to Sam the Clams before getting pelted with flying belt buckles.
There was a band playing at Sam the Clams and people were dancing. I was getting snockered and having fun, so I got down on the floor and spun around in an attempt to breakdance. I do this whenever I feel the crowd’s attention on me – and they were egging me on. After I busted a move (and my tail bone), I got up and did a sort of “jazz hands” to thrill my captive audience. I had a big cheesy smile on my face. That’s when an old lady hugged and kissed me. YES my dancing is really that awesome that old lady’s feel compelled to hug and kiss me.
My friend had her back turned the whole time talking to someone, so she missed my breakdancing. But hey it’s cool, it’s not like I tugged on her arm and said, “Did you see me? Did you see me breakdance?” I’m too cool for such unnecessary attention. Too cool indeed.
Then I took part in a three-way kiss. I’m not really a three-way kind of gal, hell, I’m not even a two-way unless I’m madly in love and considering marriage. It’s a shame really, because I really like sex. Sex is cool yo. I at least still have the one-way version. And also my lucid dreams where I grab the nearest man and have my way with him.
I tried to play it cool by agreeing to the kiss, but it turned out to be a complete failure. I kept laughing so the only things getting kissed were my teeth, which made me laugh even more. When it was over, one of the people said, “Um, that was weird.”
It turned out that the high point of my night was the kiss and hug from the old lady who loved my breakdancing moves.
I woke up at noon the next day and went to hibachi with my ex and his entire Polish family to celebrate his dad’s birthday. It was quite honestly the best hibachi I ever had. I was ravenous. Squid hibachi makes for a great hangover food. The best part was it was FREE!
I went back to Dave’s parents house to eat cake. His Polish relative who could barely speak English was telling me about people who died hiking the Himalayas. He said I need wool socks and a radio attached to my jacket. I don’t think he realized I’m not actually going up Everest, just dawdling around its lowest base camps.
I crawled into bed when I got home and slept for ten hours.
I’m home from Starbucks, home from work.
Far away from going berserk
I popped open a Hefeweizen
Read my blog post over again
And tried to find words to describe how elated I am
No, that’s not true
Elated I am not
I feel as scared and helpless as my Mother’s toe rot.
I had too much nicotine
Too much caffeine
My brain is melting like Charlie Sheens’
I’m leaving in ten days
To a place I never been
No hot water, no indoor plumbing
Will make me feel quite unbecoming
But alas I must go
It will be an adventure fo’ sho’
My life will be like a brilliant starry night
Like the painting, Starry Night
By Van Gogh
My Mother’s worryied that I might start a political riot in Nepal just because I’m sporting a “Free Tibet” bumper sticker latched on the side of my car. It’s a compliment, really. I mean, does she really think I have it in me to start a revolt? Am I a leader? A leader of Nepal deemed worthy of being named Her Holiness the 15th Dalai Lama?
Mom – “Don’t talk politics whatever you do. Don’t start anything to cause a riot.”
Me – “I’m going to start a revolt!”
Mom – “Don’t you dare!”
Me – “REVOLUTION!”
Mom – “Don’t forget to bring Nana’s whistle.”
In other news, today was my last day of work. Christina, my massage nemesis, was there.
During one of her lecture’s a few weeks ago, she was showing me a book – MY book that I brought from home to keep at the clinic as a reference guide.
Christina – “This book is great. See, you can look up any medication a client is taking and see the contraindications for that medicine.”
Me – “Yeah I know, this is my book. I brought it from home.”
Christina – “Oh, really?”
And today, when I was cleaning out my locker, I looked over on the bookshelf and seen my book Christina was using to lecture me with. I was going to take it home just to spite her. I opened the book to the front page cover and seen written in bold black ink, her handwriting, “PROPERTY OF MASSAGE ENVY, GLASTONBURY.”
Me – “Holy shit that evil bitch.”
She’s not actually evil, but saying it aloud made me feel better. I know for a fact that wasn’t written there on lecture day.
But just think about it. I mean, just how much hate and anger can this woman have for me? I know that Jeff, the owner, talked to her about my resignation letter. I was keen on her ignoring me. But I didn’t lie to anyone. I may have played the role of an underhanded little shit, but I’m passive aggressive and that’s how I roll.
I ended up not taking the book home with me. Now I wish I had. It feels like she won by getting to keep my stinking book.
Oh well, what can you do……I’m going to sleep for a good ten hours then go hiking.
Oh no wait! First I’ll tell you about the dream I had.
I’ve been vaping my e cig a lot and accruing a high nicotine debt, so I think that’s what triggered this lucid dream. It was a weird semi-out of body lucid dream. It started with odd sounds in my bedroom, but being too tired to wake myself up, I let it slide. Then I floated out of bed and looked out my window to see the sun shining and reflecting shimmering wads of cash raining down outside.
“Oh that should be a good sign. I have to remember to look up money in my dream dictionary.”
Then I was traveling at warp speed. I had a brilliant idea to use this sacred time to prophesize my Nepal trip. So I asked the question, “Will I have fun on my Nepal trip?”
Then I was in some place dark. I got scared, but a tribesman picked me up and started running me away from the darkness. He had a deadpan face, looking straight ahead and running at a brilliant clip.
Once we were safe, he put me down and I asked him the question, “How will my Nepal trip go?”
He starts laughing. He had short dreads matted down on his forehead, a big smile.
Tribesman – “Ha ha, I’m sorry but I don’t usually get people like you here asking me questions.”
I studied him closely to see if my brain could ever conjure up such a man. I looked at him expectantly. He pleasantly came closer to my face and said in a clear, crystal voice;
Tribesman – “Be your experience.”
I had no idea what he meant. I still don’t.
Then he slipped away back into what looked like another dimension separated by a thick membrane between his world and mine. I could hear his fellow tribesmen snickering at me and trying to scare me by grabbing at me from the other side of the membrane. So I ran away and that’s when I woke up.
It was weird. I’m weird. Shit.