Tired. Long day. Blurry hangover from one too many beers and not enough food. Will I ever learn? Probably not. Not when ‘fun’ is involved. Of course, I didn’t sleep very well. Waking up on every hour on the hour. Out of boredom I woke up at 6, not 6:15. It really was a difference. I was so ahead of time I didn’t know what to do. I had two suits and five shirts and a tie to drop off at the dry cleaners.

I also had some trash and some recycling. I must have looked a sight climbing down the four flights carrying clothes, garbage and empty beer bottles. Thankfully the paparazzi ignored me choosing to camp outside an apartment on the third. Somehow the garbage can wound up three doors down the street. Strike One.

Go to the dry cleaners, throwing the heap of clothes on the counter, telling the nice man behind the counter, one tie, two suits five shirts. Then I noticed I was missing a pair of trousers. Not good. I ran out of the store looking to see if the errant pair of pants lay on the sidewalk. Nope. Hopefully I didn’t put them in the trash, maybe I left them in the apartment.

I didn’t have time to run back up four flights of stairs to check. Strike two. Make it up to Washington St. As I cross against the light standing on the double line the bus pulls up. I make it to the side of the bus as it starts pulling away and I’m banging the side yelling for the driver to stop. He does and I pay my fare and stumble towards the seat. Two stops later the seat in front of me gets occupied with the occupier deciding to recline into my knees. Strike three.

Make it work, needing food badly. It promised to be busy and I needed to eat. Got an egg sandwich at the deli next to work. Took forever to get it and I proceeded to meltdown. It definitely helped having something to eat. The temp arrived. Nice guy. Matt. Sings in a Cabaret show at Don’t Tell Mama. Twenty something looking like Elliot from E.T. and I mean that as a compliment.

Somehow I got through the day, eating whenever I can. And keeping hydrated. I was busy running around and showing Matt the ropes. He was a quick learner and I trusted in him correctly to carry his load. And he did so admirably. I told him I was going to try to see his show at Don’t Tell Mama.

I did tell Jamie about Matt’s upcoming show and she said she’d try to make it with me. Should be fun. She told me they had the goods on the Persian Bitch and soon the ax will fall. I told her I’d believe it when I see it. Tomorrow may be the day that bitch will be out of my fucking life forever. That would be soooooo sweet.

Would be nice if we got rid of Humpty Debbie, but sometimes you have to take the good with the big fat bad.

My appreciation for Pop Art continues…

Feeling pretty good, feeling ok. Not much to discuss or write about. At home, Bill is at his folks. I had some drinks after work, coworkers who had their fill last week wanted some more. I tried begging off, but heard a chorus of ‘You never come out with us’. So I did. It wasn’t so bad but oh how the commute can be agony. Had to relieve myself and rushed off the Path train to the terminal to find the doors closed to the men’s room.

I go to a ticket window and ask what’s going on and get told, ‘Oh they’re probably cleaning the men’s room.’ They actually clean that place? Quite a surprise but with a full bladder I couldn’t afford to ponder the concept much.

I considered running into a bar and having a drink to use their facilities but decided against it. Made my way in a hurry to get home. With each step of four flights oh how it was a struggle. I made it, throwing everything on the floor and aiming as best as I could. Bulls eye. Of course if there were a woman here she would point out my error. But there isn’t and I cleaned whatever spillover or splash back there was. And it wasn’t much.

Honestly. So I missed the first 15 minutes of Lost, which was ok since the first 10 minutes is usually a recap. It settled in after changing from my suit and watched whatever was happening to these people whose hair isn’t matted and everyone looks well scrubbed. Are they castaways or visiting a spa? And what’s with the theatrical glue that Kate found? Are the Others misguided actors from summer stock?

Hoboken celebrates St. Patrick’s Day with a parade this weekend so as not to compete with the NYC parade. The bars will be filled early, one of a few amateur days for drinkers, making it a must to avoid for ‘professional’ drinkers like myself.

On Friday my brother Frank is supposed to swing by. Helping him out with some nonsense. Glad to help. Nothing big, relatively small. I suggested meeting up at my apartment and he had the nerve to bellyache about my smoking in my apartment.

I know he doesn’t like it, but if we went to McSwells or somewhere they’d be smoking there. I just find it annoying. Probably as much as him coming home smelling like smoke is annoying. So we’re both annoyed with something that hasn’t happened yet.

Oh we’re just so brilliant like that. Scenarios that haven’t happened.

I can deal. I’m helping him out. Can he deal? Of course I love him dearly but man can he hit the buttons. I would think by this stage he’d be able to tolerate a minor inconvenience but I guess not. Like I said I can deal. Luckily we have windows here and they do work. No problem opening one up for some fresh air. And we do have fans to circulate anyway.

Won’t be smoking any Padrons around Frank. Jeezy Creezy I’d never hear the end of it anyway. Oh Frank, such a good guy, a great friend and my brother. We are so much alike and so different. I’m Patty, he’s Cathy.

I do owe him so much. I’ll probably relax by then and let him have his way. It’s easier.

And Hello to Jim from Northport.

Also saw two commercials using Go Go’s songs. ‘Head Over Heels’ and ‘We Got The Beat’ archly retitled ‘We Got The Meat’. Guess they have bills to pay or don’t own their publishing. Didn’t Jane Weidlin, a member of PETA write ‘We Got The Beat’? Interesting…