I know you've all had those days when you wished you had just stayed in bed. I've now had two in a row. After a fan-fucking-tastic Thursday, Friday and Saturday brought me crashing back to reality. Friday I went through the process of getting my Mustang registered in the state of California. Dealing with the DMV is never a picnic, but in California they actually seem to take a perverse pleasure in fucking people over. So after spending more than a month's rent in various tax and tag fees, my car is now officially a resident of the state. Friday night I was supposed to go out with Dave. He was going to get me into The Spider Club; which is something of a big deal. You have to be on the guest list to get into this place, but apparently he knows someone. Besides, as I said before, he's hot and pretty people seem to get what they want around here. It would have been fun to go, but I was just not in the mood to go clubbing... and with my luck I would have run into Michael (since this weekend marks the release of the new Harry Potter book, I will from now on be referring to him as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" or HWMNBN). So anyway, given how HWMNBN feels about me right now, that would have been really, really bad. So I didn't go. Dave seemed ok with it, but in reality he's probably pissed off at me now and I've fucked up any chance I had with him. That's prolly for the best though. I really don't need to get involved with anyone right now, especially not a 24-year-old actor. That's a disaster just waiting to happen... So that brings us to Saturday. I woke up to an e-mail telling me that HWMNBN had posted a comment to my blog. (Don't bother looking for it, I took it down.) It was ugly, and petty, and mean. It also really upset me. I know I shouldn't let him get to me like this. I shouldn't care what he says or thinks about me anymore, but I do. I'm not handling this situation with him well at all. I'm so not ok. I will be, but right now I'm sort of a basket case even though the rational side of my brain keeps telling me, "Fuck him. He doesn't deserve me." It still hurts. It also begs the question, am I just naturally attracted to these fucked up men, or does being with me make them that way? Have I actually acheived the ability to drive men insane? That's not a talent I was looking to have. If that's the case, I give it back. In an effort to block out HWMNBN's comments from my head, I went out to pick up my copy of the new Harry Potter book. I figured I would spend the day at Hogwarts and the real world would just go away. That was the plan. That's not what happened. Instead something fell out of the back of someone's truck (I'm still not sure what it was) and it crashed into the rear passenger tire of my Mustang. It knocked the "spinner" off my wheel, which would not have been a problem except that the spinner then lodged itself up around the calipher of my disc brake. The good thing was that I was only a few blocks from a Ford dealership. My brakes were making a lovely grinding noise when I pulled up to the service department. I spent a couple of hours at the dealership and they got me taken care of. There was no major damage done, but it was still frustrating and time-consuming and NOT how I wanted to spend my Saturday... Sunday will be better. I was going to go see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," but fuck that. I don't plan to leave the house. If I don't go anywhere then I'm much less likely to wreak any havoc on myself (or anyone else). I'm going to lay outside and work on my tan and put a serious dent in this book. How much trouble can I get into doing that? Wait... Don't answer that....
"Bad day. Fuck it." -- Stephen Baldwin - "The Usual Suspects"
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