Bridge to Nowhere

I feel the need to share - John McCain stayed in the same Hilton I was shacked up in while in NYC. I got to see him whizz by in his motorcade while thousands of our tax dollars at work stood by and maintained "crowd control."

As his car came down the street, his white hair gleaming as he benevolently waved and smiled to his adoring fans, I blew him a raspberry.

I couldn't help it. It was an involuntary response to authority.

By the chants of "OBAMA! OBAMA!" I wasn't the only one.

Losers' Club Takes a Train Ride - the Sequel

So, what's better than being on an Amtrak train with your crazy boss for five hours on a Friday night?

How about, getting stuck on that train for an extra three hours because the train in front of yours on the tracks has passengers that are rioting.

Seriously.

Apparently, the commuter rail riders Friday night got fed up with their train breaking down and stopping. So they got off the train. In the middle of the track. And just, you know, decided to walk to the station instead.

Our train was stopped in the name of safety until they could round up all the nouveau pedestrians.

And all the while, my boss was TapTapTap on her latop.

I probably should have continued to work in kind but - honestly - I'd had enough. It was 8 p.m. on Friday and I'd been with her every moment except for the five I was sleeping, for two days. I was DONE.

From now on, I'm going to warn everyone when I get onto a train. Warning: Riding a train with Kalesy will result in delayed arrivals. And insanity ensues.

Seriously

Why is it that when my life comes together, everyone else I know falls apart?

To my friends: Ya'all need to get into therapy. Intense, serious therapy.

Seriously.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled lives.

Never a Dull Moment

Apologies for the lack of postage. I have been exhausted. Getting up before the sun to get a workout in and so very much to do at the new job that I've been staying late. And the later I stay, the harder it is to catch a train home.

Didn't help that last night - while suffering through a bout of Sunday night insomnia - my neighbors decided they were going to have a raging beer party. So raging, in fact, that I actually got up, put on a robe, and went over to ask them to turn down the music. Oh yea, did I mention they're both dads in their 40's?

So, of course I was exhausted today. And completely unprepared to deal with the fact that one of the Directors - the one I really liked when I was interviewing - is resigning. I can't fault her at all - she's leaving to take care of her parents who are older and in declining health. But it definitely means more uncertainty and instability in the department.

And - with uncertainty comes manic boss mania.

Actually, to give her her due, today she was pretty together. But I can't wait to see what the end of the week holds.

It's not lost on me, by the way, that this week is September 11, the anniversary of my split with Mr. Zips and - OH YEAH - I'll be in NYC on business. Irony, much, oh ye Universe?

I'm sure additional stories will ensue. After all, we've got a train ride down together and a train ride back together. Because we're cousins, identical cousins and you'll find....

Panic

Last night, I had dinner with my team from the Taproot Foundation, a nonprofit I'm working with. Many of us are in various stages of experiencing or recovering from major life issues, so the conversation was lively. Thus, I missed the 8 p.m. train. Which meant I had to take the 9:30. Which resulted in me finally putting head to pillows around 11:30 pm.

So you can imagine how pleasant a person I was when the alarm went off at 4:57 a.m.

Imagine the surprise, panic and concern that arose when I staggered downstairs to find a text message from Good Buddy.

"This is stupid, but if you're up before 8 I need wakeup call. Seriously."

Now, if you know of GoodBuddy, you know he's not one to (ahem) shall we say, live an ascetic lifestyle. He's kinda prone to excess.

So my (albeit overly tired) writer's imagination was running wild. What kind of mess had he got himself into that he was going to need me to wake him up? In what state could he have gone to bed that he couldn't rely on his own faculties? Would I have to call the paramedics? The police? The morgue?

Turns out he couldn't find his alarm clock.

Could he not have mentioned that wee little fact in his text?

I need more coffee.