So. I think it is a certainty that I'm going to get cancer and die. I just wasn't meant for this world, at least not for too long.
I got a sunburn. It was sort of bad. I'm still donning the pink skin of that fateful day in the sunshine. Was it worth it to drink those delightful Raspberry Wheat beers from Alaskan Brewing on the deck at the Hangar, overlooking the Gastineau Channel and the float planes?
I thought yes. But then I noticed a little red spot. That's abnormal. Then I decided to look more closely and saw a dark mark on my back. Not a Harry Potter dark mark, but sort of a misshapen freckle in a darker than normal color. This is great. I probably have cancer. That goes really well with my bartender's pay and my no insurance. And I'm not the glamorous type of bartender either. I work at the bar that nobody can even find. I've had two customers tonight.
I also smoked cigarettes last night. Because getting cancer naturally wasn't bad enough, I like to inhale chemical smoke into my lungs. Brilliant.
And my Grandma had cancer. Double friggin' mastectomy.
Oh, and pretty much everyone gets HPV, apparently, which causes cervical cancer. Looks like I can say goodbye to my shoulders, lungs, boobs, and cervix. I was hoping I would wait until a later age to fall apart. I should probably ask my doctor about the glorious little cancer spot or whatever it might be. If I'm lucky it's just me being a hypochondriac.
On a lighter note, Miss G is in town so last night turned into a full fledged girls' night. I showed up at the Hangar with Miss AH, where we ran into Miss B and Miss R, Miss G showed up and later Miss M, and Miss L joined us when she finished her shift. We had a particularly raucous and inappropriate conversation at the Hangar and then went to the Alaskan. My girlfriends have accused me of not being properly excited about good things that happen to me. But Miss B pointed out that I am more likely to be pretty calm through the entire thing and then get very nostalgic once it's all over. I must be spending all my extra energy on worrying that I'm dying all the time.
I took Saturday of last week off. I rarely take weekend nights off but I determined that I should help out with the JACC fundraiser. I did help out a lot before and some during the event, but once it was over I joined a group of lady friends who were celebrating a birthday. I may have gotten pretty trashed by the end of the night, but Miss T saved the day (as we both saved Miss N) and took us to the Valley Restaurant where we had breakfast at 3:45 in the morning.
I've been meaning to be productive during my days, but except for today, I haven't really. Today I was only somewhat productive. If you count nearly completing a 2.5 ft x 2.5 ft painting productive than I am successful in that endeavor. If you expected me to do laundry or tidy my room or something, you'll be sorely disappointed.
Oh. Sunday was productive! I went to the market and picked up some ingredients for making some delish crepes at Craft Brunch. I made crepes (actually just really thin pancakes, though I think I'll do real crepes next time) stuffed with ricotta cheese and topped with strawberries that had been simmered in balsamic vinegar and brown sugar. It sounds strange but was delightful. I didn't end up doing any crafting, but when Miss E and Mr. K came in to the bar later that night Miss E and I did come up with more songs or albums or gimmicks for our future band The Sexecutioners.