Sunday, September 18, 2005



Happily, it would appear that the boy I'm in love with isn't mad at me for getting drunk, losing my keys, getting drunker, hitting him in the face, and then putting a comment on his myspace page about how nice it is that he doesn't get mad when you hit him in the face. He's a pretty forgiving guy sometimes.
I obviously was a bit on the intoxicated side last night, so much so that after getting home and sending the drunk email that I decided I would definitely be hungover if I went to bed right away, so I should stay up, have a snack and read for a while. Apparently a made it through about a chapter of When We Were Orphans. Unfortunately, I don't remember it at all, but what are you going to do.
When I finally did fall asleep, I had totally off the wall drunk dreams. I don't remember them all, but the one that was most vivid was of waking up in the middle of the night and finding this middle-aged guy and his son stealing all of our stuff. Unlike the usual hiding and cowering that I would do in reality, I ran out at him and yelled and screamed, but surprisingly enough, that did not deter him from continuing to steal all of our stuff.
I locked myself in my room and called 911, all in a panic about what was going on, and instead of being sympathetic to my plight, the 911 operator was quite dismissive, telling me I was ridiculous to be so upset when the guy was obviously just down-on-his-luck and trying to make ends meet, and that he wouldn't do anything violent when his son was right there. And I just started screaming about how the 911 operator better send someone right now. At which he told me he was just doing his job, and it wasn't his job to get yelled at, and hung up on me. So no one was on my side, and no one would help me. Pretty much typical of the dreams I have, just an exciting new variation on the theme.

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