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…

Bad sleep patterns last night despite exhaustion. I was so tired I crashed in my long johns and fleece. Of course I eventually took them off but I was physically exhausted and after the therapy last night, somewhat drained. Oh Mick Jones where are you when I need you? And what’s with the restraining order?

I shuffled off to work early enough sans skully. Since I was losing so much body heat through an uncovered head I didn’t sweat so much as I shuffled and hustled my way to work. Met Tony and got the egg sandwich that I hadn’t gotten in a few weeks. Needed some fuel since I didn’t have my usual breakfast at home boo fuckin hoo.

I finished off my Clash/Big Audio Dynamite fixation by playing their first album. For some reason, ‘Complete Control’ brings a lump to my throat and a tear to the eye. It always had, something about the way Joe Strummer sings with such passion. The song I identify with a lot is actually ‘White Man (In the Hammersmith Palais)’. About going to a reggae show and expecting incendiary songs about revolution and instead getting a lot of razzle dazzle and choreographed dance steps. Yes, I’ve been the White Man (on Nostrand Avenue).

Work was torturous, what with no errands and Persian Bitch and Fat Harpy circling the ceiling. Stuck indoors and just feeling like crap from lack of proper sleep. Usual psychodrama bullshit and I am just as tired of writing about it as you are reading it I’m sure.

Bill called several times, contrite which was nice but not necessary. Everyone has bad days, crap days. You get through them and it’s ok. But then again, I have called him terribly contrite after being nasty to him, or so I perceive. It was nice to hear that he loves loves loves me. I know he does but to actually hear it means a lot.

I am so sick of these adorable kids on television commercials behaving rather snotty or too wise beyond their years. They’re too young to be acting so it’s probably their real personalities. And now that they’re bring home some cash, they get told to play it up all the time.

Oh, like I know.

Gilmore Girls is on and has once again captured my attention. I’ve been watching the show forever. Since it was on Fridays right before an even funnier and better show called Popular. Popular was cancelled due to unpopularity. Gilmore’s got funnier and wittier. Still hooked into it. Love Lauren Graham. It has been getting a bit melodramatic lately now that Rory is going to Yale.

Like a soap opera with references to Dorothy Parker. Lauren Graham gets the best lines and delivers them well. Alexis Bledel who plays Rory tries admirably, but can’t pull it off like Lauren Graham.

Now it’s Scrubs, which is a dynamite show. So it’s come to this, reviewing shows as they unfold before me. Totally television without pity.