Balls
Balls. Balls. Balls.
I hadn’t taken Xanax at the office until yesterday after I found out this gal I knew died.

Her name was Stacy, a big ole lesbian born and raised in Atlanta. She was a drunk and a druggie at 14 (like me) and cleaned up her act and fell back down and cleaned up her act and was so inspiring to so many of us.

I have no idea as to what it was that took her life. I knew that she’d recently met a guy, despite swearing off men forever when she was younger but as someone once said…even a vegetarian craves meat once in a while.

Her passing took the piss outta me yesterday. I was in a fog for most of the day, functioning as well as I can while completely under because of medication. I ate ice cream yesterday, fucking ice cream which I never eat, I was in that much of a mood. My stomach hurt.

I went to the store and bought prune juice because needed to clear out my damn stomach. And took a lovely combination of medications and sleep aids and passed the fuck out, seconds after the Lakers narrowly beat the Rockets.

There was a kicker to last night as well…I was looking through this chick’s facebook…I sort of want to fuck her but not really. But there’s a picture of her and these other girls I know…and I recognize one of them as someone I deleted after she cockteased the shit out of me a year and a half ago. Not cool, not nice, not something someone should have done to me. But she did and I blocked her but now I saw her and her last name’s different.

She got married. So she was drunk texting and drunk calling me. And either fucking someone on the side or wanted to fuck me but had someone else. Some bullshit.
As Jonah would say on Summer Heights High, that’s bullshit, miss! The circle of shit completed and today’s crappy commute plus standing at Starbucks next to an incompetent fussy rude Indian woman and her fat little daughter (13 year old should not have asses that would satisfy my tastes) and her meek little son have made me feel grateful for living.

I’m pissed enough to refocus on the things I want to focus on. Reading. Writing. Working out. Not much else.

Speaking of not much else...that dumb actor sent me another facebook message. I looked on her photos and it looks like she's meeting everyone she possibly can. Lifeless maybe?

It blows my asshole that some people have their Mom fly in whenever they get sick.

Seriously. Fly in.

My mom would yell at me if I called her to ask how to handle something when I felt bad.

Retarded.

I got this email:

Hi person,
I'm an actress from Toronto who is currently starting the process to move to LA. I came down here originally for a couple of weeks to check things out, but had some unexpected good fortune.

A producer set several meetings up for me with casting directors and one of them wants me to audition to be Jon Lithgow's daughter in a Meg Ryan film.

Due to this and a few other scheduled meetings I have extended my stay until the 25th. While here I'm trying to touch base with as many of my fb friends as I can to make them real friends.

I hope we have a chance to meet, but if that doesn't work for you, that's cool too.

All the best, :) katie

katieblah@gmail.com

My response:

Dear Katie,
I’m an asshole from Boston who is currently floundering in LA. I came here to write great movies but had some unexpected bad fortune when I got a job in the industry.
Due to this and a few other unscheduled things (like friends dying,) I am still working here because I hate myself and want to die. And I hate my friends too so I
don’t even give a shit about my facebook friends.

If you still want to meet, let me know. Wear chaps and a tutu. At the same time.
I’ll pick you up at the 7-11 on Normandie; you know the one. If that doesn’t work for you, that’s cool too.

All the best  person