I am exhausted. I am drained. I am spent.
And when I am exhausted, drained and spent, it shows. How do I know this? Because people kept telling me all day. Yesterday was so dreadful, I called my brother to vent. Alex, being the most glorious man to ever live, stopped my work on his way home, to check in and give me a hug. He walked in the office with arms open and as he embraced me in brotherly love, he said, “Fuck. You look like shit.”
When Ben finally left last night, he came over to give me a hug goodbye. “Don’t worry, Bethy. You’re going to kick ass.”
“Do I look that worried? Is it that obvious.”
“Uh, yeah. Yes. But it’s supposed to be like this.”
“But still. I look that bad?”
“Yeah, you do……See you Sunday!”
Alex maintains that this blog isn’t a true representation of what I’m really like. It’s the good version of me. It’s the charming and funny version of me. I agree that there’s tons I never talk about on here, lots of good drama and scandal and stories that would be fantastic blog fodder. And lots of times I act like an idiot, slut or villainess which I then choose not to discuss either.
“Still, Beth. It’s not even that. Sometimes you’re quiet. Sometimes you’re not that funny. Sometimes, you’re a fucking bitch to deal with. That rarely shows up on the blog.”
Hmmmm. Fair enough. True, true and true. Alex would know.
So here: This week, I’ve yelled at cripples and pregnant women, blamed the innocent for my DSL not working, screamed at hobos blocking the road, spilled food and makeup all over myself and didn’t care enough to clean it, stole 2 parking places, didn’t wash my hair for 3 days, ate like a cow until I made myself ill, drank most of a bottle of Chardonnay entirely by myself while watching America’s Funniest Home Videos, and got screamed at dozens of times by dozens of people at work, all leading up to this Sunday when we finally open.
Apparently, I’m also hideous…