Desperation

I'm having trouble keeping up with my 5 email accounts. It's an attention destroyer. Sometimes I spend time just monitoring them and clicking send/receive.

I signed an author this week for a very short campaign. It's a meaty project and I've already scored three interviews for her since Tuesday. This makes me very happy.

I've had some anxiety as of late - mostly due to two particular work-related things and my uncle Frankie who likes call me drunk and talk about committing suicide. I got pissed this week. Second week in a row when he's called and disrupted me during the business day with this nonsense, which I do not need. I decided to tell him so. I decided to tell him to show me a little fucking respect. Then I cried.

I saw the movie The Mist this weekend and I found it terrifying. There is something about desperation. There is something about the pack mentality. Scary - scary shit. Marcia Gay Harden was awesome and Thomas Jane is pretty cute.

I recall reading the novella when I was a teen deep into Stephen King books. I spent a summer on IT when I was probably 13 and the following summer reading Carrie, The Shining, Pet Semetary and other short stories. Now IT scared the beegeezus out of me, but I remember feeling anxious, unsettled and deeply uncomfortable after reading The Mist. These feelings are my horror.

This weekend we will buy our Christmas tree and do some more holiday shopping - of which I feel hopelessly behind. I will enjoy a Kris Kringle dinner sponsored by my new/old friend Francea on Saturday night at a restaurant I can't fucking remember right now. And tomorrow I will visit Stacy and hopefully we can see the movie Juno, which I'm dying to see.

I am having trouble sleeping again. I'm am also very close to a diagnosis of interstitial cystitis. After a zillion trips to the urologist, a recent gynecology visit to rule out feminine issues (or syphillis) and several tests, the doc thinks he has the answer. I'm very thrilled to know that I'm not nuts, that my bladder won't fall out and that I can still keep both of my kidneys. What sucks is that the foods I may eat may very well effect the frequency of urination and pelvic pain. I may also have to have a minor surgery called a bladder distention or something. Aces.

My cousin Amanda got a baby bulldog. Her name is Luca...she lives on the second floor.

My grandmother was awful last week for her birthday. We took her to Greek, but she wanted Colombian. We wanted her to sleep over, but she feared the snow. We sent her in a car service back home, but she wanted us to drive her. We had wine for dinner, but she wanted a cocktail. We picked her up in the evening when whe wanted to come over in the afternoon. The calamari she ordered didn't have tomato sauce and the pieces were too big. The lentil soup was good, but I didn't tell her that the tripe soup had so much tripe in it as she would have preferred that. Dan didn't give her any olives when he served her Greek salad. The bread didn't come with any butter. If I pay for her car service again, she's not going to visit me anymore. So we take her to the best Greek place in Astoria, but it's just ok. Never again.

Yes, this is my grandmother...the one my mother didn't talk to for years.