04/18/2013blrp

Had a dream last night that I worked with Ze Frank, and he was in an open marriage, and had a thing for me, and worked on the same floor of the building as TP and it was so obviously about TP that I don’t even know why my brain felt the need to recast.  Maybe because Ze’s wife is a sexy redhead, and so is TP’s girlfriend, and SO AM I, thank you very much.

Adjusting to the cherry-red hair, btw.  As it fades, I’m starting to like it a little more.  But I’m longing for the semi-subtle orange I had before.  Because it looked more natural.  Shit, it looked more natural than my ACTUAL HAIR COLOR.

Do I even have any pictures of my real hair?  Probably not.  I’ve been dyeing it fairly consistently since I was about 14.

Yeah, I can’t find one.  Found one of my brother at 15, though.  E-mailed it to him.  We only have maybe a dozen pictures of each of us throughout the ages of… Maybe 12-17?  Except all the selfies I took for the internet on my shitty webcam, we’re pretty much nonexistent.  And I can’t even find any of myself that aren’t so pixelized you can barely tell it’s me.

Jess.  JESS.  Back on topic, wouldja?

So this dream was weird and whatever, I don’t even remember the details.  I remember Ze grabbing my then-naked ass in front of his wife, who seemed cool with it, but I was like "that’s kinda crossing a line?"

Why the fuck am I talking about this?  I don’t know.

I’m going to a concert with him tomorrow.  To see a Venezuelan dance-pop group.  You heard me right. He mentioned them a couple weeks ago and they’re pretty sexy.  I cleaned my apartment to them.

Aaaaand then we’re hanging out on Sunday too.

Which means I’ll be seeing him more this week than I saw DW?

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yeah so I’m worried that, despite my intentions to not have sex with him, I’m doing that "emotional cheating" thing he’s talked about.

But fuck it.  Fuck all of it.  I’m so tired of worrying and thinking so fuck it.  Just gonna do what I do and if it’s wrong then it’s wrong, but I don’t have a fucking solution except to hide in my cave and never date again, and we all know how well THAT goes.  (Or if you aren’t an obsessive reader from years back: I drink a lot and fuck people I don’t like very much in an attempt to cure the loneliness, but only manage to cause a deep, spiraling depression.  A depression that, in the past, only luck and coincidence have pulled me out of.)

I’m out of weed, and as a result, I’ve eaten maybe 600 calories in the last two days.

I try.  I really do.  I just… I get nauseous when I try to make myself eat.  My body won’t even let me swallow.  Yes, har har, shut up, I’M DYING OF STARVATION HERE.  Probably.  Eventually.  Not really but still.  I know this kind of thing can go on for weeks, until I’m frail and withered and feel like shit all the time.  I don’t want to do that, but the longer this goes on, the longer it WILL go on, and ugh ugh ugh.  Sleep is one thing, because I know non-weed solutions for that that can at least knock me out for a bit.  But hunger?  What else makes you hungry?  Exercise just makes it worse, somehow.  I don’t know, man.

Enough whiny bullshit.

Uggghhhhhh why do I get so goddamn giggly over TP?  Man.  This is lame.  And yet so incredibly fun.  Sometimes I stop by to talk to him just because I like the way he looks at me.  He gives a fairly subtle once-over and then just kinda pauses sometimes to make extended eye contact and give a satisfied smile.  WHY IS THAT SO HOT?!

Whatever!  I shall sit back and enjoy the hotness and just make sure not to cross any lines I said I wouldn’t cross.  That’s all!

My job.  Ugh.  My job.  I don’t want to talk about it because it’s boring and hard but maybe I will eventually when I stop having boyz to talk about.

Kay done now THANKS FOR LISTENING, AS ALWAYS <333333333333333333