SOOO SLOOOOWWWW…

So.  I think God hates Sad.Sigh.

Case in point: I haven’t been able to access it for the past 4 days, as it times out every time I try.  I’ve tried at various points in the day, with different browsers, while drunk, while sober, (okay, that’s a lie), and while naked.  Nothing has worked.  And even when it has worked, the site’s been a tranny mess of slow-moving parts.  Almost as if we were trying to operate the internet with a crank.

I’ve begun to learn that Sad.Sigh has become not only my solace, but pretty much the only place that I’m able to spew my poisonous bile.  Since I haven’t been able to do so lately, I’ve been carrying this bile around with me.  And I don’t know if you’ve ever had a mouthful of bile, but it sucks. Continue reading

Another One Bites the Dust

Another of my close friends from high school got engaged this week.

This leaves me to wonder two things:

1. Will I be the only unmarried bitch at the 10 year high school reunion (well, that’s IF I were going, which I am most certainly NOT)
2. Am I the only person who still enjoys casual sex?

I defer to the expert opinions on both counts of my fellow Sad-Sighers.

Hollaback Girl ain’t so Bootylicious

After years of separation from my one true gay love, Mike, I found myself back in his arms and heart at Miyabe on Castro along with Daniel and Seaslut. A few large Sapporo beers later we were at The Mint for some cheesy karaoke – or so we thought. Turns out they’re very serious about their Karaoke at The Mint although the first act, a lesbian singing “Stronger” (Kanye, not Britney) as Julie Andrews, was not a true indication of acceptable karaoke practices. When Daniel finally succumbed to peer pressure and started drinking he used his buzz for evil and signed me up for my favorite atrocious song, Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl.” Refusing to go on stage without their presence we stumbled to the front of the bar and were quickly admonished by the “KJ” for not letting him know we were going to share the stage. I poured my soul into the song, belting out the lines “Uh huh this my shit” and “This shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s” like there was no tomorrow.

Let’s just say, The Mint gays that night were a tough crowd. Bar patrons ignored us and the front row looked at us with annoyance throughout the entire performance. When we finished screaming into our mics not a single pair of hands clapped for us, leaving us to depart the stage in shame, my Harajuku girl dreams dissipating with each step. We sat in the back, embarrassed, as old gays won the crowd back with show tunes and other ballads, all the while flipping through the catalogue for our redemption song which was of course “Bootylicious.” In true Destiny’s Child fashion we argued over who got to be Beyonce but got over our differences long enough to go on and rock the song. We were thrilled with our performance and convinced that the crowd loved us this time around. Something tells me we were just drunk.

Even my body hates me (or, ESPECIALLY my body hates me)

Last week I went to the doctor, all wheezy from some asthma caused by seasonal allergies. Thinking I’d just get prescribed another inhaler, I told the doctor the issue, she listened to my breathing, and then freaked the hell out and put me on a steroidal medication to try and get the inflamation in my bronchial tubes down.

So, I guess it was worse than I thought. Oops. The unfortunate side-effect of said medication is that it compromises my immune system in a major, horrifying way, apparently. I did not realize this until Friday night a mosquito decided to make its home in my bed, eating me up. Well, okay, no big deal. Until! Yesterday I woke up for 4 infected bug bites, an infected eye, and a whole host of other horrifying problems that I don’t care to detail here (because they are FEMALE in nature and Grace is worried about what kind of ads that would generate).

Now let me state for the record that I am VAIN. I also routinely wear 3 different kinds of eyeliner. So this having to go to work with no makeup on covered in red welts like some kind of horrifying troll isn’t sitting well with me and I kind of feel like going home, crawling into a hole and dying.

On top of all that, I’m super-stressed at work, and as a consequence to THAT my jaw popped out of place after I spent all night clenching it. So now I can’t eat, my eye is swollen shut and I’m covered in infected bug bites and I’m not even wearing any makeup, which makes the rest of it 1,000x worse.

Robotian Slip

grace: so my mom thinks that clearing stuff off her desktop will give me more memory
grace: she deleted a shitload of shortcuts thinking it’d do the trick
grace: her computer more memory, not me
grace: i’m not really a robot
nick: hahahaha
nick: a likely story

This is almost as bad as the time I stood up from a couch and batteries fell out of the remote prompting me to declare “Aw man, I really am a robot” in front of one PJ Clarke. Terrible decision on my part seeing as the mechanically inclined PJ can go on and on with the robot jokes, leaving me to short circuit from my tears.