a margarita a day...

coffee break? nah. margarita break, please.

does it keep the blues away?

today

is

just

one

of

those

days.

argh.

feeling useless and aimless and directionless, waistless...whatever-less. i just don't weigh less. dammit.

i'm wondering. i desperately want to test my theory. something frozen and fruity and highly-alcoholic might very well color my blues, well...pink. at least temporarily, right?

on my lunch hour, i walked past an embarassingly colorful chain restaurant near my work that offers ginormous portions of tex mex food. the food, swimming in fluorescent orange pools of lard, did not appeal at all. what did? the little paper tent on the table beckoned me...a watermelon margarita. ole. tempted to dive in and disappear into a tequila and watermelon haze. should i? should i slip in and have a margarita on my lunch hour? surely, it would make everything seem a little better for a little while, wouldn' t it? would they know? would they smell the tequila on my breath back at the office? i could just say it was a new Demeter fragrance, "i just popped into sephora for a little spritz..."

hm?

hmm?

hmmmm???

nah i am, at heart, a goody two shoes, and work, while not particularly stimulating currently, still offers a good job, decent pay, and marvelously intelligent people that alternately challenge me to be a better person and confirm my worst suspicions...

they are all smarter than you. you, my dear, change toner. the highlight of your day is the walnut, blue cheese, beet, + baby spinach salad you eat every day for lunch. these people are changing the world. you're just eating it.

(wow. if i were dating myself, i would so break up with me. wouldn't you?)

but. it's a job, and i do not want to lose it. besides, that sort of behavior smacks way too much of a little disease called alcoholism. my family has the unique distinction of counting many of its members proficient in the art of dipsomania, but this apple is choosing to fall far from that dysfunctional tree.

so, i did not order the margarita. i bought myself a sparkly necklace with beads that match the color of my eyes (what i like to self-indulgently call amber-hazel) at a local flea market instead. and yes, i ate my requisite spinach salad. i am now sitting at my desk surrounded by brilliance incarnate, waiting for my muscles to grow, and try-try-trying to remember popeye's philosophy as it applies to me...

"i yam what i yam."