Tuesday, February 09, 2010

What Happens When Your Girlfriend Doesn't Get Her Required Amount of Sleep


What follows -- because I've been too busy and lazy to write anything in two weeks -- is a guest blog from dear Adrienne, my girlfriend, who, as you will soon see, is in a very bad mood today.

The backstory is that dear Adrienne lives in a fourth floor walkup apartment that is 2000 years old (yes, it was built around the birth of Christ), with creaky floorboards that she shares with her neighbors across the hall. These two miscreants are fresh out of college, married, unemployed, and drug recreationalists.  Because they are unemployed, the aforementioned miscreants are able to have parties on any day of the week, any day that is, that they're not screaming at each other at the top of their lungs because they married too young and are both unemployed, or too exhausted from chasing their yappy rat of a dog around their drug den of an apartment.  I saw the boyfriend last weekend, with the yappy rat of a dog cradled in his arms; he's got a beard, is on the waify side, and looks like he could be singing for Grizzly Bear.

With our cohabitation imminent (!!!), Adrienne has been selling off her belongings on Craigslist like an auctioneer on crack. Last Saturday, I helped her move her bed down the four flights of stairs and into the waiting SUV of a Long Island teacher. (My back and glutes still ache, but that's a story for another day.) Since she now has no bed, her mattress is on the bedroom floor. Last night was her first night sleeping on her new arrangement, and this is where our story begins, stripped from a furiously-typed Blackberry email that is mere hours old.

Subject: Negative nancy here

So I had to get up at 6 to move car (for first time today-have to move again at 9) so afterward I go back to apt and wander around aimlessly remembering how much noise the fucking neighbors - no that word is too friendly- a-holes next door were making. I look at my bed and see the large brown crystal that is usually on my nightstand is on the pillow next to mine. That's right. In a half-sleep stupor I grabbed the crystal intending to slam it against the wall a couple of times but must have dozed off. That's right. I dozed off until the battery in my ipod died and then the barking, stomping and fighting jolted me awake again.

So after wandering around the apt for thirty minutes and re-listing my apartment I decided I couldn't decide what to do so I put on my coat and came over here to Big Daddys for breakfast. I walk in-EMPTY!! I have the place to myself. I place my order for oat bran pancakes with the russian waitress who doesn't write anything down, but hey, how hard is oat bran pancakes and two eggs? No, I don't want the potatoes or bacon, but feel free to throw in an extra oaty. Nope, cannot do that, but how about sausage? For gods sake. Just the two cakes and eggs.

I am just opening my "Wheels of Life" chakra healing book in an effort to bring myself back to neutral when in walks an UES 20 something mom, with a three year old "Chase" and baby "Wade" in a basket. And guess what... Chase gets to pick where they sit! Yes, please, right next to me. Seriously? So then I hear "chasey, baby, how about eggies and french toast!! Mommy loves you!! Your such a big boy!! What should we do today?? Wadey goes for her four month checkup and then we are going to play and nappytime!!! Jesus christ lady, its barely 8:00. What are you on?

Then the food arrives. Two fat white as my plate pancakes. Umm, are these oat bran? No, you said regular! WTF? Ok, I will send them back she says and asks once more if I want some sausage. What the hell-do you have a box of sausage going bad back there? So now I am eating two oat bran pancakes that surely have spit (or worse in them). While Chase refuses to eat his eggies and waffles smothered in whipped cream and strawberries. UES girl has asked him if he is going to eat those eggies 14 times so far. I am counting. Oh yeah, neil young playing in background. 



I couldn't have said it better myself.

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