It’s not that I’d say I’m *old*, per se, but three hungover days in a row just doesn’t seem like the good idea it once did. I’m wrecked. Why did I let myself get talked into more tequila shots last night? Oh, right, because I can’t resist the Bumper Pool Boys, especially when they bring a cooler full of beer, a bottle of Patron, and a Dr. Hook album.

Actually, I have a question for any of my friends who may be a little less socially awkward than I am (that would be all of you). The question starts like this: I realize that there have been many times in my life that I’ve been completely oblivious when someone is flirting with me, and that fact has had to be pointed out to me later by others–I think it’s a combination of crappy self esteem and social ineptitude (and no friends in high school, which is when a lot of people seem to learn this stuff). But if I’m pretty sure that someone *is* flirting with me, can I assume that they actually are, or should I assume that I can’t read flirtation in that direction either?

You know what’s really sad? I’m pretty sure I’ve asked this question in this blog before.

Anyway. At 2 am the Squirrel was doing his damnedest to convince me to go camping with him Sunday night (tonight, that would be). He claims that he really does know how to get (and keep) a campfire going in the rain, and the cold really won’t be a problem, and it’s just for one night so what the hell. And I’ve said before that the vibe between me and the Squirrel is always impossible for me to read, but I do think there was some flirtation-progress made last night. And yes, I did actually call him an hour ago to call his bluff and say hell yes, I’ll camp tonight. Not surprisingly, I haven’t heard back from him–I think I scare the Squirrel a little when I flirt overtly with him, and camping in the cold and rain is just too clearly a prelude to a Whole Sordid Affair in a shared tent before dawn. So it’s probably for the best that I’m sitting here now, procrastinating and trying not to work and thinking about a nap, but not camping.

Argh. I will procrastinate for 10 more minutes, and then I’ll try to do a little section prep. I borrowed this from the always lovely RussianViolets, who (I suspect) likes procrastinating as much as I do.

10 Years Ago: I was living in San Francisco with the Yogini and the Best Cat Ever and beginning my first semester of the Master’s program (the 2nd one, the one I would actually complete). I spent a lot of time listening to Ani Difranco and being utterly convinced that I would never fall in love again.

5 Years Ago: October 2000: Living at the corner of Crack & Hooker in the Mission in SF with Gospel Bob, 3 of our current 4 cats, and the SweetMarine. GB and I had been together for 4 years; we were both collecting unemployment, having both been laid off the month before due to a buyout of the dotcom we both worked at. The job I’d been doing at the dotcom was among the most emotionally traumatic jobs that exist: it involved collecting and reporting illegal material to the FBI, and I’m not going to discuss it in detail except to say I still have nightmares about it. Needless to say, GB and I were fighting constantly, drinking every day, and planning on breaking up. It was Not A Good Year. (I hate to leave this on such a negative note, but damn, I hadn’t realized how shitty 2000 was. So I want to add that less than a year later, GB and I had moved to HappyRiverTown and life had improved a hundredfold.)

1 Year Ago: Had just moved out of the impossibly tiny apartment and into this place–so while we had way more room, we weren’t seeing people as much. I was TFing for the first time and loving it.

Yesterday: Spent most of the day hungover and melancholy after arguing a lot with GB the night before. Perked up hanging out with the Bumper Pool Boys and the Wranglers, but had *another* huge, awkward argument with GB that led to *another* hungover/melancholy morning. (Things are fine, but we’ve both been a little, um, sensitive lately.) Got no work done at all.

5 Snacks I Enjoy: What an abrupt transition. I’m in more of a funk than I realized, because I’ve gotten myself a bit depressed with all this remembering-of-the-melancholy. Fuck. Okay, snacks–that’s a happy topic, right? Um, salty snacks, always, or sweet snacks with salty parts (ice cream with nuts, for instance). Crap. I don’t eat snacks. Do shots count?

5 Songs I Know All The Words To: Almost every song Bob Dylan recorded before 1989 (really–it’s one of my stupid human tricks that I can sing all the words to those 10 minute long, lyric-heavy Dylan songs). Actually, I know all the words to almost everything I listen to–remembering lyrics is something I’m good at. (Skycat can vouch for me on this one!)

5 Things I’d Do with 100 Million Dollars: Buy a house on each coast; make sure my mom is financially set; help my sister get financially independent enough to leave her husband; start a rescue shelter type of thing for cats; buy lots of rounds of drinks

5 Places I’d Run Away To: HappyRiverTown (in a heartbeat); some Caribbean island; Ireland; a cabin in the woods somewhere Up North; Skycat and the Yogini’s roof.

5 Things I’d Never Wear: a bikini; a wedding dress (once was plenty); those sweatpants with a word across your ass (I saw a girl wearing ones that said “Jumbos” across the ass, I kid you not); and I’m bored with this one

5 Favorite TV Shows: Bored with this too.

5 Biggest Joys: Fall weather (I hear ya, RussianViolets!); purring cats; friendly drunks and drunken friends; waking up in the woods (from camping, not from, you know, getting lost and passing out under a tree); getting Something Accomplished

Eeeesh. I had no idea my mood was this bad. Must find a way out of this. I have a cat on my lap now, which is a good start. Work will probably help, though I’d be willing to bet this isn’t my last blog post tonight.

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