SELFABSORBED.ME

I woke up this morning and didn't feel so well... and not just physically, but mentally as well.

So I get into work and I open my laptop and you know what I do? That's right, I download Huey Lewis and The News' 'The Power of Love'. And not even because I like it all that much, because I don't like it much at all, but I heard the song after watching a College Humor skit and it has now been etched in my brain as the next song I needed to get in my Itunes. So I download the song and I play it and play it. Over and over. And everyone that walks by my desk all I can think of is how I am listening to Huey Lewis. So I listen to that damn song maybe 6 or 7, possibly 12 times in a matter of an hour. And I am quite sure by this time I can even tell you the chord progression and possibly the bridge.

But I still don't feel better.

So I get up from my desk and head downstairs. And as any bad-movie-goer knows what comes next, I get in the wrong elevator by accident. I meant to go down but everyone is going up and I walked in aimlessly and all the passengers gave me that sorry helpless look that I had been caught in their upward bound elevator ride. So I stand and mumble numerous F words under my breath and everyone in their pleated-front-khakis is staring at me. I finally get downstairs and head to the front of the cement steps. Now I am not what most people might call a 'smoker'. I am a smoker-wanna-be. I hang out with all the smoker-cool-kids at parties and outside lounges, because sometimes when I am wearing ripped jeans and a vest and some kind of cheesy hat from Urban Outfitters I am quite sure the one thing to complete my outfit would be a cigarette... I think Vests and cancer happen to go well together, yes. But in truth no matter how many times I have smoked it still burns the back of my throat pretty bad and upsets my stomach just enough to make me feel like I need to go take a shit.

But this morning I smoked two cigarettes. Two. It took me a bit to figure out how to light the first one in the middle of the wind storm. And I could tell the other "seasoned' smokers were staring. But I actually walked outside of work to do it so it was going to be done. And I stood there trying to light a cigarette with the rest of the smokers as though I belonged...but they kept eyeing me, clearly noting I was not part of the normal smoking community that congregates outside of my building's steps. And I had on no makeup, some old corduroy pants and a t-shirt and I wonder if people were thinking if I even looked old enough to smoke.

After I smoked my second cigarette...which essentially was just for effects and maybe to prove something to the other smokers. I breathed in the last end of ash so deep I almost threw up. But I stood there. Waiting for the nicotine to hit me a bit.

But I didn't feel any better.

So I walked back inside. Thankfully got on the right elevator this time and headed back to my desk. I sat down and started to try and eat my sandwich. Eating can be seemingly difficult though when not all is well.

I remember this girl Libby from my 8th grade class having just broke up with her boyfriend named Josh and after the final student came over to make the 'Just Joshin Ya! " joke to her (dont ask) she pretty much lost it at the cafeteria table and the site of Libby trying to eat some sandwich while she cried over Josh was almost too much for my 13 year old mind to bear. Every tear drop and deep-cry-inhale she tried to take a bite, and it was truly a painful site. It will be forever imprinted on me, like some horrible childhood memory.

So the more I tried to eat my sandwich, the more I started pulling the chicken out of it, and then the lettuce and tomato...until eventually all I had in my hand was bread and mayo. So I consumed that and sat there. Reached into my drawer and pulled out my kids chewable vitamins and ate 4 purple dinosaurs. I figured the dinosaurs would make up for the mayo and bread I had consumed as my only meal of the day.

And I sat and waited to feel better.

But I didn't feel any better.

And then I sat and wrote this blog. And wrote and rewrote and tried to make it funnier. Or wittier. Or catchy-ier. And I rewrote it again. And I tried to think of what my friends would think is funny, or what maybe even my dad thinks is funny . And I rewrote again.

But I didn't feel any better.


I am thinking I will now go download some more Huey Lewis and see how that goes...