I was just at the grocery store where I noticed Crystal Light is selling appletini, margarita, and mojito flavored drink mixes....for detoxing alcoholics on a diet? For the kiddos? I dunno about this. Anybody I've ever known to imbibe a cocktail or five doesn't do it merely for the flavor. She drinks it for the possibility of altering her mind with hard liquor but having sugar and juices to cover that shit up. Come to think of it, if the tacit, unadvertised purpose, what the marketing people jumping on this skinny drink bandwagon know people will do anyway, is to add the alcohol, then...OH, OKAY! Start making the individual packets for water bottles too. Fuck it, but the liqour in those individual packets. I'll take them to work.

I didn't get paid to write this. Damnit.

The major teaser for the local news tonight is, "A man mistook his girlfriend for a wild hog and shot her. News at 10." Said with a pleased smirk and a head nod.

Regular patron: I never noticed how pretty you are.
Me: Oh, okay.

I suppose this unwarranted pseudo compliment trumps this gem from a few weeks back:

Patron: You were cuter as a blonde.
Me: Oh, okay.

I'm here for your viewing pleasure not just for assistance? Oh, okay.

Me: That was a great movie!

Eugenio: Yeah, I'm glad I picked it.

Me: No, I picked it!

Eugenio, in disbelief: No I did!

Me, impatiently: I added it to the queue!

Eugenio, getting upset: No I did. When we saw the preview I said, "Hey that looks like a good movie."

Me, enraged: NO! I SAID THAT. I SAID WE SHOULD WATCH THAT MOVIE!

Eugenio, putting out a fire: And then I added it to the list. So it was a mutual decision.

Me, calming down: Ok, yeah, it was mutual. We both selected the movie.

And then we hugged.

Anyway, Win Win was an all around great film.WE -- together, mutually -- highly recommend it.

A bunch of bakeries donated cakes for an event today at work. All of the leftovers were hauled to the staff break room. I'm forever the fat kid. Eyes glistening with excitement, rubbing my hands together, I started singing, "Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, I wanna lick the icing off," which got awkward pretty quickly when everyone remained silent, like they didn't recognize the obviously perfect song for the occasion, as if no one listens to the radio, like no one else hates herself for enjoying that song and cake so damn much.

So anyway, I'm still energetic, all hoped up on sugar. Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake...

I actually don't like that song enough to have it stuck in my head and yours all damn day. Oops.

Edit: Headache, headache, headache, headache, headache

 After two insomniac nights, I finally got sleep. I put my oily little head in the pillow at midnight, fell asleep, had some dreamy dreams, woke up at 7:28, patted Neno's cute and also oily head, and then my alarm went off signaling the start of the race to crazy town. I'm aware that I'm an annoying ass morning person, not the sort who waxes optimistic while wishing everyone a "Goodmorning!" but more like someone abusing methamphetamine -- which is also how I look. I've always been that way after some zzz's. I remember calling a friend in 5th grade after waking from a summer nap and singing Tomorrow at the top of my lungs on her answering machine. "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow!" She called me later to say her grandmother heard my message live and thinks I'm crazy. Couldn't argue with that. I typically capture that energy burst and deplete it for the day by running in place on a treadmill first thing in the morning, but today I didn't run. Clearly the energy still needed to be expended. Luckily Eugenio knows to appreciate the minutes when I'm not being a whiny little bitch, so he just smiles politely while I sing songy songs, dance dancy dances, make up stupid cutesy words, speak in rap, and talk to myself in different voices, telling him that "this an A and B conversation so C your way out of it" when he mistakenly assumes I'm talking to him while we share the mirror, bumping elbows in our cardboard box of a bathroom.

Talking in rap is one of my favorite things. Pick a phrase from a song and insert it into a conversation in a normal tone and pace. Today I felt like telling Eugenio cheerfully as we showered in the nude, "Calabaza, you don't need a bus pass. You need to bust your ass. Right?"

I had so much fun getting ready this morning because I had energy because I got sleep. I'm going to try to keep my hyper momentum going through out the day so maybe work won't suck so bad. I imagine life is brighter when you're unusually hyper, have no concern for how annoying you are, and just laugh, laugh, laugh at how pissy everyone else is. Meh, more than likely I'll lose my energy for chipperness after lunch and go back to sulking silently to myself, taking it as a passive aggressive insult if someone acts a tad too happy because that sounds about the way it works.

Maybe she won't, but shit then again maybe she will....

.

Ahh, Hillary is my second favorite super hero ever after RuPaul.This Tumblr has me LingOL.

I wrote the following last Friday night and didn't post it because I was in the still self-aware stage of tipsy after drowning my shallow sorrows. Now that I'm completely sober and over it, I'm like, lolz, I have very few eyelashes. *blink blink*

I wish I could have taken a snapshot of our romantic bathroom scene: Eugenio spending 30 minutes delicately pulling practically super glued eyelashes out of my eyes with tweezers while I cried about what a lousy excuse of a drag queen I am because I thought it would be cute to get eyelash extensions on a whim at the nail salon while gettin my cuticles trimmed until I saw myself in the mirror and hated them. My face was overwhelmed by eyelashes. I could barely keep my eyes open. I looked drunk. It wasn't cute. I tried to trim them, fucking dem up, then I tried to pull 'em out, pulling out my formerly present, natural eyelashes as well until Eugenio in all his calmness took over. Silver lining is I saw myself cry for the first time, since all this took place in front of the mirror, so I won't be doing that ever again. Crying -- also not a good look! I can see advertisers getting on that: pills to prevent crying. No wrinkles, long lashes, rocks for abs, melons for tits, has no feelings, never scrunches her face and cries -- the perfect fembot.

I keep trying to try in the beauty department and I'm learning -- if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Haha just kidding, I wish I had that kind of Kanye confidence. But for real y'all, no more impulse beauty buys for me. No more hair or eye weaves.

K, tomorrow gotta find out how to rock the no-eyelashes look...Just in time for the in-laws.

Wait. This reminds me of the time my mom accidentally cut off all her lashes in one eye using an eyelash curler in the 90s. I remember her screaming that day too. I was eight. I thought it was hilarious. I would mock her by using my hand to mime eyelashes for one eye. If she were here now, I'd call her up so she could return the pointing and laughing.