Day 165-- Living with a bf is hard

This has been a hard week.  I move out soon.


http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-165-when-living-with-boyfriend.html

Day 160--On roommates moving out and new ones moving in

In the past 72 hours one of my roommates has moved out, a new roommate as moved in, and I've written a deposit check so I can move into a new place next week.  It's been a crazy week.

http://extrablotsandflops.blogspot.com/2011/12/day-160-on-roommates-moving-out-and-new.html 

Day 162-- "A Fever You Can't Sweat"

Um...(laughs) 

What a bizarre weekend.  We had a party Saturday night that lasted until Sunday around 11:30 with four girls watching Mad Men and eating a Medifast brownie with French vanilla ice cream.  I was terribly sick, with my brain on a different planet for most of it.

I like my blog entries to be a more stand-alone in structure, and most of my seeds of thought in this entry will be spouting into more thought-out entries later in the week.  Lord knows I can go on forever about roommates, my post-grad future, and how to throw a party.  So bear with me as I ramble in pieces.

Saturday:

I was sent home early from work because I was so sick.  I looked "like shit" according to my favorite/former least favorite boss.  In my entire working career I've only left work early due to illness once, so know that I wasn't in good shape.

The party planned for our house was a bit an odd ball.  My boyfriend, who's social in a more BBQ with beer with the neighbors-kind of way, than a club/bar guy was the one who decided to throw the party in the first place.  He invited our dj friend and has been hyping it up for about two weeks.  

I came home while the roommates were putting up more Christmas-style lights around the living room and the bf went to get the keg.  Rule #1 about a party: good lighting.  As the girls put on their make-up, curled their eyelashes, picked our their outfits, and discusses metabolism, I found myself half sitting in the tub wearing capri tights and my green Sprite t-shirt trying to mellow out the pounding in my head, my achy feet, and clear up my sinuses so I could breathe.  

Cut to a few hours later and that familiar panic that no one is going to show up.  We, the roommates, starting dancing by ourselves and try to cheer ourselves up.  Around 10pm the dj showed up with about two dozen friends, and our friends showed up about 15 minutes later.  Thank God.  The music was thumping, the disco lights, and black lights, and Christmas-style white, blue, and orange lights were glowing, people were in a good mood in their skinny jeans and boots, and it was a dance par-ta.  

I got to dance with my roommates and with my boyfriend, who at the beginning of the night was twirling me in the kitchen and making me laugh, and towards the end of the night was more stressed out by dealing with the cops who came twice. 

I'll admit I was surprised that the cops came at midnight.  They're usually pretty cool in San Diego.  Anyway, round 2 of our party was with the roommates and neighbors and much lighter music getting drunk on shots and taking pictures of them planking around the house, and other wacky shots.  There's a picture of a few of us on the floor holding an umbrella someone stole last week.  Good times.

Sunday:

The dj spent the night so around 10am everyone was up and getting ready for mimosa's and another round of partying.  I spent most of the morning in bed reading online articles and resting my sick body and ripped up throat.  I didn't come out until around 1pm when the football game was on with techno music playing for sound and about a half dozen people drinking from the keg with tea cups.  

So much for making homemade chicken noodle soup and listening to the XX while recovering.  Despite my fever and memories getting confused with reality, I was rather content sitting with everyone on the couch watching the next game and the game after that, occasionally getting up to dance for retro songs like "Hey Ya" by Outcast.  Not your typical Sunday.  A few episodes of Mad Men later and the party finally ended around 11:30pm Sunday. 

Today (Monday):

Work was surprisingly pleasant.  Yes, I sounded like a sick frog, and yes that coffee shop I tried out sucked, but I got to bartend tonight to some loud Canadians and make some lunch money for the week in tips.  I got home late as usual but I was in a preening mood of good will and attraction.

All day I've been planning on gifts to give to my roommates before they take off tomorrow, and I want to buy my boyfriend something as well.  For the past week he was sick, then I was sick, then he got sick again because of me, and I'm still getting better, and we've just been off.  I want to get him a surprise gift to change the vibe and to invite him on a date with me on Friday (my day off) to go to the museums and a nice lunch.  Oh, and sex.  

Sidenote: does sex make one get over sickness faster?  Usually when I'm sick my skin feels funny so I want to be left alone.  This time I've craved just being held for human warmth and contact.  Since I got sick the bf has refused to kiss me because of germs, and then he has, and then he sulks when he feels under the weather again.  Dude, you got me sick.  Get over it.  Needless to say, I've missed sex.

Me being me--far too forward and not enough finesse--walked into our room after work today and announced: "We're having sex tonight.  Hard.  We haven't had sex in like a week and that needs to be changed.  Plus it's Monday [first day of my bc pack; lots of hormones]."  He's stupid response: "Maybe when you're healthy." Me: "You're sick, I'm sick, I really don't care." Him: "Any luck with those rooms?" Me: [smile dropping]. Him: [Trying to be playful]: "Maybe when you have good news too." Me: [Frustrated and annoyed] "Don't worry about it.  Him: [Trying to be playful and lighten the mood] "I'm just fucking with you." Me: "No, you're not.  Just forget it." [walked out of the room].

He's tried to make it up with me all night by rubbing me back and dancing foolishly in public, and he's taken a few moments to sincerely ask me how my room hunt is going and how he can be more supportive.  It doesn't help though.  He really touched a sore wound at the worst time he could have. I've tried to hide my irritation the best I can though because it is my roommate's last night in San Diego before she goes on her travels back to New York.

We all went to our favorite burger joint where the neighbors worked and enjoyed a mountain of onion rings.  My roommate leaving was in a really solid mood, talking about the people she's meet and places she's been, and craziness of the party this weekend.  She's glad her bike sold yesterday so she doesn't have to worry about it and she'll be returning her new camera tomorrow because it absolutely sucks.  She decided to stay out with our neighbor J, M, and the bf while my other roommate and I walked home (work at 7am).

In tomorrow's entry I want to talk more about her, and the sadness and hope that goes into a goodbye.  It's been a real honor hanging out with her this summer.  Oh, and a new roommate was just decided on today.  She's Canadian who's looking for a place to stay for 6 months.  My boyfriend didn't ask my opinion of her until last minute, which is a million miles away from the long discussions 4 months ago that we used to have about all of the candidates.  It resulted in JH, who's been perfect and is staying for now.  I have to go now, but I just I want to finish this with three more thoughts:

--I wish I hadn't been sick this weekend 

--I've applied to 13 different rooms in the past 3 days and finally heard back from 3

--I'm iffy about the new girl moving in because I see a hard edge the others don't

--I'm going to miss A but I'm damn proud of her for going on her adventures

--I know JH will be moving out in 2 months when her best friend from college moves back here.

--I'm really stressed about finding a new job and a place to live

--I hope my boyfriend can do something to change the mood with us because I'm over it as of now

--I miss my old roommates, I miss my old life, but I want SD to work.

--This weekend's party was one of the best I've ever been to.

 

Day 156-- Sick day

Today I am sick.  I starting feeling unusually thirsty around midnight, which is always the first sign.  That turned into a scratchy throat in the middle of the night which I tried to cure with gargling salt water and taking a vitamin pill.  Not getting enough sleep and having to leave the house by 6:30am for work didn't help.  I was feeling fine most of the morning but my throat starting burning by mid-day, and it's been downhill since then with a runny nose, slight headache/fever, and general not wellness.

Doesn't help that my boyfriend is being an asshole tonight because he feels sick and is blaming me (he was feeling off around 10pm; I felt off by midnight--do the math).

And it doesn't help that the room hunt isn't working out.  That sublet didn't email me back, and neither did my friend who's place was on craigslist (hint hint, I guess). So I'm really frustrated.  And the job hunt is overwhelming as well.  Basically, I wish I had my life together and instead I'm sick, recovering from a bladder infection, working at a crappy job, still crashing with my boyfriend, and on my period (then again, aren't we always glad when we get our period?  Not pregnant, lol!). 

Day 155-- When you're replaced by the "new girl" at work

There are about 14 different reasons why I hate my job* and this is number #14: Almost every day I come in, there is a shitty surprise waiting for me.  Today's surprise was a new girl.

Now I like new employees, honestly.  New blood refreshes the dynamic of a group, and can be a good excuse to relearn things I'm rusty on.  However, the bright and shininess of the new girl today only mirrored back my morose cynicism about my job.  Don't worry, I tried to hide it well and give her a good first impression.

She's new enough not to notice the ripped up carpets, or the piss-poor rooms for the price, or understands that "sass" from M. is just the beginning of her being a cold-hearted back-stabbing bitch, or has experienced missing out on holidays or Saturday nights or dinner with the person she loves, or having to cancel plans because work won't let her leave on time.  She's new enough to see it all as exciting, not a death trap of her spirits.

Maybe's she's just being 20 and she's only worked for 2 years with this being her fourth job and she lives at home so she only needs money for clothes.  I mean, 23 isn't that much older, but maybe that three extra years and 8* jobs (I'm including the internship, and working at an office for 2 weeks while my burnt foot healed at the coffee shop) has harden me to know the difference between good jobs and bad ones.  And maybe my money going to utilities and the dentists makes working less enjoyable.  I dunno.  Maybe I just really hate the hotel.

I started looking for a new job this morning.  It's a little harder than what it was at the beginning of the summer because now I'm not just looking for a job, I'm looking for one that's going to make me happy to be there.  Out of the 8 jobs, 4 of them were awesome so I know jobs like that do exist. Hope the new girl turns out to be my replacement!

*the other 13 Reasons I Hate My Job

1.) I work Saturday nights

2.) M. is a cold-hearted backstabbing bitch to me

3.) I never get to leave on time

4.) I work at a crappy-looking hotel

5.) I work nearly 9-hour days, plus an hour total commute round-trip to get there. 

6.) I hate being sent to the even crappier hotel, even if it is just to cover their lunch breaks

7.) I hate when they abandon me and make me work by myself.  I like co-workers.

8.) I get shit for taking time off for my grandma's birthday/my cousin's wedding/Thanksgiving

9.) The computers are slower than dial-up and the system is confused and out-dated

10.) I'm STILL waiting for the uniform

11.) My schedule changes every week by huge margins.  Ex. I got off work at 8:30pm tonight; I have to be there at 7am tomorrow.

12.) I don't make enough money

13.) I'm not able to get dental until next September

Day 154 -- Chipotle and other drugs

Not me

It's November 1st and I woke up this morning in the aftermath of Halloween at the beach, with sand on the floor, empty shot glasses on the table, and one Rainbow Bright costume somewhere in the house.

It was a more mellow Halloween in San Diego than I expected, but a good one.  I had to work all of Saturday night so half of my roommates went downtown, and my boyfriend went to a medical mj event, so by the time I got home I threw on my costume (a sexy book--it's hard to describe) and went to a dying down house party. On Sunday night we had an awesome little Halloween potluck kickback with homemade chili, shrimp fettuccine alfredo, green bean casserole, potato salad with turkey bacon, red wine, pumpkin pie, and Evil Dead 2.  The friends were good, the vibe was good, and Bruce Cambell's hand deserves an Oscar.    

Actual Halloween was rather enjoyable in 73 degree warm weather San Diego.  We all dressed up in our costumes and hit the beach to watch our neighbors surf in their outfits of Jesus, a sexy cowgirl, an escaped prisoner, a knight, an army man, and Nacho Libre.  Jesus kept losing his crown in the waves.  I left for work and returned home around midnight to find my boyfriend puking in our bathroom sink, with one of my roommates trying to fight off nausea in the living room in her Rainbow Bright outfit, and my other roommate trying to tend to her while still in her Sexy Raggedy Ann costume.

This morning was spent trying to remember what the fuck happened last night and cheers to a holiday well spent.

It was my first Tuesday off in over three months and it was damn glorious napping with the bf off and on during the afternoon.  I had to give an answer 'yes' or 'no' to this room I've been pursuing to rent, with the biting hesitation in my stomach more or less telling me what to do.  I love the location, the price, and the idea of having my own closet again, but the people are rather bland and removed, and I just don't want to live in yet another situation of loneliness in a big house.  I texted 'no'.

We went for a long walk through the neighborhood before heading to Chipotle for dinner burritos, and later sat in the parking lot of the grocery store imaging what the people walking by where saying in their heads and which girls have given road head.  The whole thing had us laughing for a good 45 minutes sitting in the car.  

A split pumpkin spice latte later and like typical post-grads we bought $40 worth of sandwiches and breakfast burritos, with the bf pretending not to read about Kim Kardashian's impending divorce in the aisle while I read one of the Christmas cookies magazines.

It was a Netflix night of Man on Wire, which I had to say fooled me with the impeccable reenactments, but was still quite an inspiring movie of passion and beauty.  Damn those French and their ability to make everything a little more glamorous!  

We watched the second half of Love and Other Drugs (not as good as the first half) before calling it a night.  So here I am listening to Rage Against the Machine and contemplating some hot chocolate before another round of looking for (a) different job, and (b) a cool new place to live.  Cheers, and happy November!