Thursday, April 20, 2006

Always A Good Answer.

I just can’t shake this foul mood. Last Tuesday I skipped yoga because of it. I’m like a high-functioning alcoholic, though – it’s not a struggle to get through days without snapping at people. It’s just a low-simmering ever-present discouragement.

Last night after working a shift at the Confederation Centre, some of my co-workers were going out to a trivia night. I used to love going to trivia, and I don’t get chances to go out anymore, being a) sad, b) pathetic, and c) skint-by-necessity. We used to go out every Thursday night for trivia. We were the princes of beer questions, the kings of minutiae. I think we got complaints, so our team name changed from “Touched by an Uncle” to “Touched by an Angela Lansbury.” That shut them up.

Anyhow, I wanted to go to trivia, but after waiting for the girls to “get ready to go out” (read: pound booze, putting on makeup and removing clothing), I started to feel cranky, out of place, and long in the tooth. I went home.

I flaked, and then felt shittier. I don’t socialize as much as I used to, and I miss it. And beer? I can’t remember what that tastes like. Black forest cake? Maybe.

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