Christian Palomba Knows...

Oy. What's that?

You're wondering why I haven't been writing quite as much lately? Could it be that I've gone totally soft in the head and can't quite seem to get the old proverbial wit up? Might it have something to do with my extreme dislike for the current hot spell we're staggering through? Or the fact that I just don't fancy trying to think while my allergies have me so congested that every time I open my mouth I'm afraid the pressure's going to pop my brains right out?

No.

I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm holding back, and if I'm not going to be totally honest than I'm just not going to write. I don't lie. Never have, never will. I omit on occasion, refuse to answer a question every now and then. But when words come past my lips in anything but jest, they are, and always will be, the absolute truth.

And I just don't feel like compromising that for some silly-ass blog.

Friday I went out for a bit, Saturday I stayed in all night to watch movies and eat chicken with the kids. Sunday we assembled a small group and headed up to Palisades where we had a blast (although with that group I reckon we'd have a blast most anywhere we went).

Monday I worked till my fingers bled (quite literally actually) and watched The Reader while I did. It was pretty fantastic. By the time midnight rolled around I was right delirious, and by the time we crossed 1 A.M. I found myself staring in the mirror one allergy addled eye swollen, bloodshot, and twitchy...the other inexplicably clear and suddenly realized...my eyes had changed color. Where normally my eyes are the (rather nice if you ask me) mixture of green and brown we call hazel, last night they were totally (and rather eerily) green. Cool.

So tonight (even though I rented Frost/Nixon in anticipation of a long night of pounding on the keyboard) I've got a bit of an early out card. After a long week or so topped off by a long last two days (three stupid breakdowns, and one stupid accident since three this afternoon) I figured I'd get a bit of rest. Problem is I don't have anything to do, and don't have air conditioning back at the homestead. So I was thinking of heading out by myself to grab a drink at one of my old haunts. But since my old friend isn't working this evening and I've been rather absent from the scene I would have to find someone new to keep me company. The catch? My old friends actual friends are working tonight and they'll rat me out in a second, meaning next time I visit it'll be all cold shoulders and sideways glances as a bit of faux jealous reaction for pretending to chat up another bird while she was off somewheres in the real world, not because she actually cares but because she thinks she has to pretend to care. Let's reiterate. None of this is real. It's a fucking go-go bar. It's 100% make-fucking-believe and still I can't catch a fucking break. What do you call it when your fantasy world fucking sucks as much as the real world? My life. As it is written in the book of youvegottafuckingbekiddingme, Chapter Duh, Line Gofuckyourselves, "All women are crazy...even the professionals."

Let's keep that in mind kiddies.

Add to that the fact that I'm piss all broke a bit earlier than I expected and you've got a rather boring couple of nights lined up. I haven't rented the apartment upstairs so that's a grand every month I'm not seeing. I've got certain obligations that I've got to meet that I didn't have last year, and I'm still spending money like it's going out of style. Some of the things I'm dropping money on are admittedly a bit dodgy, but then again, so am I. It's all in good fun. And the money I spend does far more good then the money everyone else doesn't. When I opened my wallet today I realized that I'm actually in negative numbers for the first time ever and when I sat down and did the math I realized that when my accountant does my taxes next year that if he looks carefully (and if everything goes according to plan) he'll possibly find that my estimated worth hit a million on the same exact day that my actual worth hit zero. You've got to laugh sometimes. If you don't you'd just be crying all the time, and what sort of fun would that be? It'll actually help keep me out of trouble being slightly less than liquid, but it'll also make it a bit tougher to get into the sorts of trouble I still intend on getting into. C'est la vie...

So on second thought I might as well plow through the rest of this shit on my desk, drink an obscene amount of sugarfree Red Bull, and maybe even whack off a bit, and by whack off a bit I mean take a fifteen minute break to play Rome: Total War instead of staring at contracts and spreadsheets trying to figure out how to come up with enough money to build an automated school bus wash and invest heavily in a stockpile of valium and hand grenades because let's face facts it's been that sort of week...and it's only Tuesday.

God I love my life.