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The Death of Hollywood Video, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

I tried to go to the gym at 7 AM this morning, but when I woke up, my insides felt like the interior of the Hollywood Video store that LCF and I always used to go to on 3rd ave until it closed last week. Now it looks like this. Like my insides. I actually made it all the way to the gym and through stretching before I started to cry. Then I speed-walked home with a concerned-looking LCF, puked my guts out, cried some more, started sweating and shaking, and got my temp taken, which was exceedingly low. Then I took a shower, went to work, and tried to forget my aching guts in the name of deadline. Hopefully in about a half-hour I’ll be able to go home and sleep it off. I guess there could be a bunch of different reasons why this is happening:
1. A very potent drink I drank last night involving Pomagranite Liqueur and Bourbon to get through the nervousness of a dinner wherein LCF was meeting my mom.
2. The simple potency of LCF meeting my mom.
3. The simple potency of my mom.
4. The nervous combination of diet coke and performing with my band at the Parkside Lounge in front of LCF and my mom (see above.)
5. My fathomless burning hatred of the gym.
6. The fact that my overdue interview with John Cameron Mitchell was due today but it didin’t get done over the weekend (see above.)
7. Aunt Flo.
8. Sleep Deprivation.
9. I suppose I could be sick.
10. All of the above.

The best (and by best I obv mean worst) part of the whole scenario, was when I ran weeping into the locker room to grab my stuff at the gym, and a serene, well-meaning, yoga-toned chick who couldn’t have been more than 25 followed me in there to offer words of encouragement. She cornered me as I was stuffing my Fiji water into my bag and kept telling me that I was beautiful, and that I shouldn’t cry, and that all I had to do was keep coming back EVERY DAY and everything would be fine. If I could have projectile-vomited in her face it probably would have made me feel better than going to the gym EVERY DAY. Unforch - I don’t have those mad bulimic skillz, so I just side-stepped her and lurched up second avenue towards my own private hell at home instead.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 14th, 2006 at 2:45 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.