Jet Lag
It's a funny thing, jet lag. I did not really experience it going to Paris but coming back, oh man: a force to be reckoned with. So far, under the influence of late night (post 7p) jet lag I have:
- made an immediately regrettable decision, but then kept going
- transformed from pleasing dinner guest to kitchen table zombie in less than 60 seconds
- left bizarre links with non-sequitur comments on facebook walls of friends
- sent not-funny joke texts to friends
- run a 1st read rehearsal
all in only four days! I am productive little bad decision machine.
Compliments
I've gotten a few in the last couple days that have warmed my heart and I don't like to verbally repeat them because then I sound like a bitch, so I'll just write them down so that when I'm old and gray I can look back and remember that it happened.
A man I like told me he adored me. (He said a lot of other nice things too, but a lady has got to keep somethings to herself.)
A woman I work with and respect asked if I was losing weight ("yes") and then immediately said, "That's hot." (To which I responded, "That's the idea.")
Two men I used to work with saw me today for the first time since February:
- The straight one grabbed me and swung me about, calling me "hot stuff."
- The gay one saw me across a crowded lobby, bee-lined for me, squeezed me and howled a little bit, while saying, "Giiirl! You so skiiiinnnny!" (He's southern.)
My new memoir title: I guess I should wear heels and a dress more often OR It's actually really nice to get this kind of attention.
No comments:
Post a Comment