Bowling With the Bosses and My Mom – Back to Guitar and Random Great Wine – Work… ?

It’s so impossible to get out of the new bed.

Especially when not truly inspired to work. I always want to send stuff that I didn’t pitch.


The winds are fucking crazy.

My plants are shuffling like crazy. I’m not sure if the basil plant is going to survive.


I’m so fucking sore.

My left leg hurts.

My right knee hurts.

My right elbow hurts.


Yep.

Reader Holiday Party.

At Tavern + Bowl.

I fucking love bowling. So I tried bowling almost 5 games. Or just throwing balls in general.

My best score was 134, but it started with a strike I didn’t do. So I guess my best score was really 128. My target was 155. I’m good that I broke 100 each game. It was fun.

And I was with my mom!

Who didn’t break 100 :(

But she likes to bowl a lot too. So I’m glad she was with.


And… of course.

All the Reader people.

Chad and Brook were on the same table bowling with.

Our table was squeezed between the bosses. The office director and the main editor. Yep.

And they both like to bowl a lot too. I could tell… Office director had his own bowling ball and shoes. The main editor was just bowling a lot.


Oh god.

Just got up for more coffee and my left thigh hurts so much.

But I love bowling so much. If they invited me to do it right now, I would again. Even though I’m in pain. And I should work (and I still don’t want too).


I took Bisho to the vet yesterday. Yep. He is infested with tiny little mother fucking fleas. It was gross. The vet gave him two shots. Then I bought him a pill. And I got to take him to the vet yet again today.

The vet said my apartment probably has fleas. But I haven’t felt shit. Or can’t see them. But fucking carpet.

This apartment is falling apart…


Bisho was acting weird since Sunday. And after the vet, he was crazy still. But I had to go to San Diego for the Holiday Party, so I left him alone.

Met my mom across the border. We rode the trolley together. And got to the party thirty minutes early. It’s okay. We needed to talk about things and stuff.

We still need to talk more.

Family drama.


We bowled and bowled. The food wasn’t that great. But free drinks. Chardonnay for mom. Beer for me.

And at around 10 pm, we took the trolley home.


I socialized with my editors and other friends from the office. One writer approached me to tell me he was a fan. Which always makes me feel weird. Especially because I’ve been reading him and I thought he was getting my territory. But nope.

I don’t know mang.

I don’t know.


I really don’t understand what being a writer is.

I still don’t.

I don’t get it.

I just do it because it gives me money. But it takes me a while. It’s not easy. I never want to work.

I told my editor I needed the push to work.

He maybe will push me.


I don’t know mang.


I want to do more guitar. I’ve been doing a bit more. At least 20 minutes of it.

Bohemian Rhapsody is coming back.

Muerte del Angel is coming back.

Una Limosna por el Amor de Dios is coming back.

Besame Mucho is already back. Girl from Ipanema never really left.

Many more songs have left me completely.

Mario will be back.

It also never really left.

And songs that I wrote and sing.

I sort of want to sing.

Even though I’m horrible at it. They are my songs. I wrote them almost a decade ago. Actually… a decade ago. Most songs I wrote when I was 20.

And since when I turned 21 I’ve only been writing math rocks songs. And I should do more of those.


But guitar doesn’t give me money…


Photo gigs are slim.

I have one up next and that’s it.

I should write more.

I don’t want too.


I wanted to somehow network at the holiday party to switch jobs or climb the ladder or whatever. I didn’t. I just bowled. I love bowling so fucking much.


I had my own bowling ball when I was a kid. It was baby blue and had Mickey Mouse imprinted on it. It was obviously very lightweight.

I was like 5-years-old when I went to bowling lessons with one of the female bowling champs in Mexico. I still bowl like she instructed me.

And I still murmur to myself “No pare, sigue sigue,” every time I throw the ball.

As the Proyecto 1 song.

No pare.

Sigue sigue.


I should get my guitar skills back to this.

I’m not sure if the long hair is what gives my guitar special powers…

But I should also get a haircute.

Fuck having long hair.


Oh yeah.

HI HI commented yesterday (aka Selene).

YEP!

YOU TELL ME!

I know my ex might read this (she’s busier now).

And I know my rebound reads this (yep…)

You think reading about it it’s awkward?

Think about writing about it. And your morals play with your emotions.

That’s why this blog comes to an end.

I just can’t keep spilling my personal life a thousand words a day.


Well YAY!

I have a fun photoshoot coming up.


AND!

It’s tomorrow morning.

That’s some of the best wine I’ve ever had.

And it’s from Ramona, California.

I still have a bottle in my kitchen.

I wonder when I will open it.

I’m excited about it.

And apparently, the more it ages, the better. But I’m probably going to drink it soon. Probably with my mom.

It made me appreciate wine again. I had given up.

Guitar and wine. I should do more of that. I could play at a winery. I could…


That photoshoot was for the Holiday Special Issue for the Reader. I didn’t like how my pictures turned out :(

Sad emoji.


Today.

I’m not sure what today will be. This week has been weird. It feels like the weekend still. I know I have to work. Take Bisho to the vet. Get ready for tomorrow morning.

I feel strange.


 

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