Oh. I hurt. Who else is at work today? Damn it. This sucks. Its a shitty day here in the District – foggy, rainy and quiet. All you people are still away. And I’m here at work, pretending to work. Though, this is for the best, because if I had one more consecutive day off, I would have been in detox by Wednesday for sure. I did a lot of drinking. I mean, a LOT of drinking. And self-medicating. Combine that with not a lot of eating and well, I hurt. HURT!
The weekend is a blur of events, quotes, hangovers and sleep, but heres what I got. If anyone who I saw can contribute more or connect any of the dots, it would be much appreciated.
The Upstairs Neighbor visited. In a drunken picture taking moment, he fell on Freckled K and broke her coccyx. We think. She was whining all weekend. FK, I did some research on broken coccyxs here. It doesnt say anything about if a hot hipster boy from San Fran falls on you at The Black Cat though.
The Upstairs Neighbor came out again on Saturday night but he brought a bodyguard this time. I dont think he wanted to be alone with FreckledK and I again. Damn.
FreckledK made me go to Georgetown on Christmas Eve to go shopping. Oh, the humanity. Okay, it wasnt that bad. I did announce to everyone on the first floor in Banana Republic, This was fun but I’m going upstairs to commence shopping for myself. Merry Christmas to the rest of you though.
After trying on several pairs of pants and discovering that after all these years Banana Republic still can’t make a pair of pants with pockets that lay flat, I went back downstairs to find FK. I saw my bestest friend in line next to her. I started screaming and pointing and he did too, then we all went to eat. The waitress at Clydes asked the kitchen to make me an item off the dinner menu and they said yes and it almost made me cry because I didn’t ask her to do that. I just mentioned that I loved it and wished it was on the lunch menu. Its the little things you know. Then we gave the waitress a ridiculous tip of like $30 on an $80 bill and she almost cried. Tears all around and we werent even at a funeral. Or my familys house.
Christmas Eve I went to dinner with Sixes and Sevens, her mom, and the King of the Dog Park. At some point during dinner, Sixes and Sevens mom mentioned her collection of shopping bags. Anything with a handle she said. I was sufficiently drunk by this point in time. Then I went home and collected every shopping bag I could find in my house and brought them over to her. She literally shrieked with joy. Who knew? I was also supposed to bring my new Taki the Greek speaking Teddy Bear that my brother gave me for Christmas (Dude, you know I’m not 10 anymore, right?) but it was just too embarrassing. “Alpha beta gamma delta epsilon zeta eta theta…OPA!…Mia Orea Petaloutha…Yeia Sou!” Jesus fucking Christ. What. The. Fuck. Did you not see the rocking pink tricycle I got you people? How about your Tourist Trap DVD or that Fekkai Gift Set? I get a Greek Teddy Bear? Fuck. What am I getting next year? A gang bang from Osama Bin Ladin and friends?
I went home and was messing around online and noticed something very interesting in my stats. Verrrrry interesting. I wonder why someone from Lewis Law Firm spent 5 hours checking the google cache for mentions of someone who has proven to be quite the psychotic around here. Then, interestingly enough, later that evening, someone in some redneck state down south did the same thing for a few hours. Christmas Eve people. Christmas Eve. Do you not have anything better to do than to scour a google cache that barely exists anymore for mentions of your nutball self? Or to have someone at a law firm do it? Jesus. What a waste of space you are.
I was about to pack it in for the night. But then FK and KassyK called me from a bar. Leave it to those two to find a bar that is open on Christmas Eve. More drinking. Could I possibly drink any more? Lets see. Yep. I could.
I spent yesterday recovering and checking out rehab programs. Just in case.
Coccyx.
[snicker]
And then you called FreckledK “FK”, which is almost as funny.
Wow… much more fun than my family filled weekend. I’m at work, too — sucks.
No work this week, yay! Although if I drank as much as you, maybe I’d look forward to being trapped at work a bit more. 😛
Whining? PLEASE – I think I was a trooper, considering. I was merely grimacing in pain, and unable to stifle the occasional, “Owie.” But I did manage to carry on, courageously carrying out my weekend plans of heavy drinking. I deserve a cookie, if not a medal.
But, hey, thanks for carrying my bags around and wrapping all my Christmas gifts for me. I love you — You’re like a modern day Mother Teresa, only bitchier.
I’m definitely at work today, and I, too, am feigning productivity. Thankfully, I’m not in pain from my weekend–though I imagine it would have been pretty funny to drink heavily and witness Freckled’s coccyx breakage (hope you’re feeling better, sweetie)! Sorry I missed all of the wackiness–hope you all recover quickly! 🙂
I’m soooo bored. Now I’m eating peanut butter out of the jar. To make matters worse, my gay friend is trying to convince me to cut out of work and go eat lunch with him. Jesus. This sucks.
BJ I looked at your trivia, but it made my brain hurt more than FK’s coccyx.
Coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx…
Giggling uncontrollably now. Good thing I’m not busy here.
Great. I’m now a punchline.
My coccyx is feeling much better, BJ. Not 100%, but better. Sex and booze will cure just about anything, and I’ve been taking my medicine as often as possible.
I didn’t know lunch was an option, V. I had to return the Club Monaco sweater, and was only a few feet away from your cherished, seasonal pasta entree.
Snoooooore. I’m dying over here. But Warrant just came on my streaming for 102.7, the new greatest radio station in D.C. Where the down boys go, whoa!
I’m not doing anything over here still. Just finished my peanut butter. Jamming away. Talked to my brother. Lamented about our other brother and his poor choice in talking teddy bears.
I66 is killing himself, isn’t he? At the expense of your ass FK!
And…. Lewis Law Firm is back as of 12:43 p.m. today. What are you people doing? Don’t you have real crimes to solve instead of reading about my weekend?
“Where the down boys go, whoa”
…better than where the boys go down. And what’s up with finishing your peanut butter and then jamming away? Shouldn’t you have just made a pb&j sandiwch and killed two birds with one stone?
I have my iPod plugged in and playing in my left ear. A little Foo Fighters, a little Ludacris, a little New Kids… hey wait a sec, how’d that get in there?
Wanna help plan a wedding?
I’m already dazed and confused.
Oh yeah, and I have a cracked coccyx…not from the engagement celebrations. I fell down some stairs while running in Birks from Chorale back to the Theatre building. What an idiot.
STOP!
Any more talk about coccyx and my vas deferens will burst.
Okay. Maybe not.
My idea of a wedding is flying to Vegas or going to the islands and doing it without telling anyone. But, um, running in Birks? Oh boy. I’m not going to touch that one!
I66 – coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx coccyx
Heh. You said vas deferens. And to your Peanut butter and jamming, you kill you don’t you?
I do kill me.
CSI would be totally confused.
I am at work and actually bored out of my mind for the first time in over a year, I swear. Apparently I have never been in the office the week after Christams. This blows. Similarly to how the boys go down or where they go down or something like that. Can brains atrophy?
Glad to see you’re back up again. Don’t let these people intimidate you. It is weird to be at work and have it be so God-awful quiet. I even miss the people who have been screaming at me!
I miss screaming at people.
If you are going to call me FK, may I call you VD?
Whatever. I’m going to take a pill and forget all about my poor, bruised tookus. Smooches! Hope the day goes quickly.
Ow.
FINALLY! THE COCCYX SPEAKS!
What. I’ve been heavily medicated and in traction for the past couple of days. Talking was the last thing on my mind.
I wish you guys would stop talking about me like I’m not here. This I-66 guy seems to think my name is funny. Tell him he’s being a Coccyxty-six.
I hate you all.
That’s not any way to talk to the Coccyx!
It’s my coccyx…I’ll speak to it any way that I like. Screw you, VD!
Hey, I’m the one in charge here! Keep talking and the pain’s relocating a little lower.
I’d say screw you back, but you’re already screwed.
And um, the P.C. term these days is “STD.” The term “VD” went out in the 80’s, back when your coccyx was young and nubile. Unlike now. I think I heard it crack the other night when you fell.
Cunt.
Coccyx!
I’m totally going to make out with you later, coccyx or no coccyx.
Eau! Girl tongue. Icky!
I need to hurt (more). Don’t go to rehab YET, I am going to NEED you once my Mom leaves. and yes, she’s THRILLED about the shopping bags (sigh). You’d thunk d’eys don got baigs dowwn souf. Thanks for making her happy because you know I AM A BIG DISAPPOINTMENT!
What do you MEAN “no coccyx”?! Um, hello, you can’t just remove me. And you’d better not try anything because as long as I’m in pain you can pretty much throw doggy-style out the window.
Sounds like 6/7 needs a little love from the coccyx.
I hear the coccyx is now making phone calls. Since it’s ending has detached from the rest of the spine, it can now dial a phone with ease. But I hear that it also had doggie style sex too.
6’S & 7’S – Betty Ford ain’t got nothing on us!
MY COCCYX DOESN’T NEED YOU. MY COCCYX DOESN’T NEED ANYONE.
Retraction: doggie style sex was NOT had. It was missionary.
FK – Your coccyx needs a sedative.
Is Betty still alive? HELP ME OBI WAN YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE.
6’s & 7’s – I have a cool Bluefly bag for your mom. She’ll love it.
Where did the coccyx go?
The bar.
Mom says “OOOOOOOH BLUEFLY!”. And what did you get from there EH?!
I wanna be at the bar with the coccyx! I got my own coccyx, ya know. WE’RE BRINGING COCCYX BACK!
I’m totally drinking tonight. I need it after today. And tomorrow. And pretty much every day this week. Pretty soon I’ll be in rehab with Velvet.
I was going to say “rehab with VD”, but a-of-all you can’t predict getting VD, I don’t think, and b-of-all I don’t think there’s rehab for it.
Wow, I didn’t think it could get any funnier than showing my father the SNL-Justin Timberlake video. This is wildly entertaining though, even if I don’t know how to pronounce coccyx. Is there a dirtier sounding body part than that?
Still, the idea of a 60 year old man doing the “Make her open the box” motion is beyond description. I recommend it.
You can get rehab for some forms of VD. I believe it involves acid.
Captain – The good kind of acid?
I66 – I have tons of alcohol at my house.
6’s & 7’s – Things from Bluefly were gifts that have now been redirected to another recipient. Nothing you would want. You know why.
Cock-six.
I am also at work today. And yesterday. And on CHristmas Eve. It’s been a joyeous few days for me.
The coccyx is now asleep, and will be for approximately 4-6 hours, thanks to a little pill donated by some bitchy blogging gal with a drinking problem. Coccyx and owner are feeling stupendous, albeit a little woozy and foggy-headed.
Shhhh….don’t wake the coccyx.
Crazy Girl we MUST GO OUT! I miss you!
I66 I think the coccyx will soon need its own blog.
Hm…
“FreckledKoccyx”
“Coccyx: You have one but you don’t know it”
“Deep Cyxed”