Wednesday February 11, 2009

Alarm goes off at 9:00 AM this morning. I decided to put an end to the trying to wake up early bull shit... it just isn't going to happen (not very often, if ever). I get up and close my window (it was nice as hell last night, but cold as fuck this morning) and I reset my alarm for 10:00.

After an hour that seemed like twenty minutes, I awake to my alarm going off. I get up, pop a few Advil and drink a bottle of water (Hart's birthday extravaganza did a number on me last night), shower, feed Chet and Tons, and cruise on over to work.

On my way to work I rock a smoke and start to realize that I've been overly tired and fatigued for the last three or four days. My post-stoner paranoia kicks in and I start to worry that I may have caught mono and immediately start thinking about which chicks I've made out with recently. There haven't been a whole lot, maybe two (gotta be honest) so I'm just praying I didn't get it from that (even though there are numerous ways mono is passed, I'm not very medical savvy and I always just think "kissing disease" as the first possible cause).

I get to work and everyone notices right away that I look a little under the weather. This gets me worked up even more than I already was. It's not that I'm a pussy when it comes to being sick, I just can't afford to take time off work to be bed-ridden for however long it will take to get over this shit (I've read that mono can last as little as a week and as long as three months). I also just fucking HATE being sick and I don't do well with fatigue. In a nutshell, I fucking hate being sick.

Work goes as well as it can. Fuckin' boring and long. I get all my side work done right when I get there so I can just chill out for the rest of the shift. Luckily, Ryan's girlfriend was in the store waiting for him to be done, so this made him finish his shift faster than hell as to not keep his old lady waiting. Once he cruises, I set up my laptop, check my e-mail, and update the diary.

I get a call from Dave T. a little later in the afternoon. He's been sicker than hell the last week so we weren't able to sit down and discuss pre-production plans and equipment rental specs for shooting. We set up a meeting for Friday this week to get all of our plans and dates in order. We're still hoping for an April 23rd start production date, so I'm praying everything works out. We shoot the shit for a little while, discuss some of the flicks we've been watching since we last chatted, and we confirm our meeting for Friday. I hang up with him and shoot a call over to my Mom.

I tell my mother all about my self-diagnosis, hoping that she's got a better and more optimistic opinion (I always call my Mom when I'm sick, and I probably will until the day one of us dies). She definitely doesn't argue my opinion (shit...) and tells me I should go see a doctor just to be sure. I remind her that I am sans-insurance at the moment and having the pocket money to see a doctor is not exactly realistic. She refers me to a doctor by my house that accepts walk-in patients for a minimum price (my mother is a saint).

Just as I'm about to go back to my computer to look up the number for the doctor, we get fuckin' slammed with customers. We never slow down until it's time for me to leave at 5:00 (which is awesome because it made the last hour and a half fly by). I pack up my shit and head on out. I shoot a text over to Dave and tell him that I'm not going to be able to make it to band practice because I'm not feeling all that well (I leave the self-diagnosed "mono" possibility out of the picture as to avoid looking like a complete jackass). I bomb it home and, for the first time in as long as I can remember, don't have a smoke on my way home from work.

Once at home, I cook up some dinner and rock a little more Lego Batman on the Wii. After about an hour of ass-kicking with the Dark Knight, I cruise into my office. I throw on the t.v. and Addams Family Values was on (haven't seen it in years and I forgot how fuckin' hysterical it really is). I do some work on my screenplay while listening to the movie in the background, giggling to myself like a child.

I get a call from Stin around 9:00 and he tells me he's coming over to chill and have a few drinks. I fuck around on my computer for a bit and watch the end of the movie until he shows up.

Stin gets to my house and we crack open a beer and rock a smoke outside. We come back in and play a few games of Fifa Soccer with Tool, Hart, and V on Hart's X-Box360, and I realize that I am completely retarded when it comes to newer video game technology. After getting my ass handed to me over the course of several games, Hart packs up his shit and cruises, as does V. Tool retires to the dining room table to finish up some homework and me and Stin decide to throw on Hot Fuzz.

I get through the whole movie (fuckin' brilliant, no matter how many times I see it), and Stin crashes with only twenty minutes left (the best twenty minutes of the entire fuckin' flick). The movie ends around 1:00 AM, I wake Stin up, ridicule him for not being able to stay awake for twenty more minutes, bid him farewell and retire to my room to get ready for bed.

I throw on my sweatpants that I stole from Dave T. a few years back (comfy as fuck), brush my teeth, set my alarm, and pass out watching episodes from the Mike Judge Collection DVD of Beavis and Butt-Head. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep with a goofy fucking child's smile on my face.