My So Called (Fantasy) Life

I have finally hit the point where I want to go home.

I'm actually playing John Denver as I type...

country roooaaadds, take me hooooome, 

to the plaaace, I belong...

DAAAALLAAASSS, TEXXAAAASS

Ciiity Maamaaa.....

(you like that improvisation, don't you?)

This nostalgia could be due to a number of (depressing) things:

1) I don't have any friends in Sacramento so the "work vacation" is really over

2) I've been gone for 10 days and living out of a suitcase is really only fun for so long. Same with using cheap hotel shampoo.

3) My hotel room is creepy as hell and looks like something out of Psycho

(it's not dilapitated or anything, just looks like a serial killer is hiding behind the shower curtain).

4) Receptionist at said hotel is a very well groomed gay gentleman who, in the words of Kendall, "has better eyebrows than [she does]"

Actually he totally looks like Ricky from My So Called Life minus the jerry curl.

Who wants to be RayAnne Graff? I do! I do!

Despite awesomeness of this resemblance, one night was enough. Damn you California for not having flights out after 4 o'clock.

After signing up for the airport shuttle in the morning (you bet your ass I will not be missing another flight), I walked over to the gas station to see what kind of junk I felt like putting in my body. I decided on skittles, snapple peach tea, and a questionable sandwich (Where is 7-11 with their delish gas station sandwiches when you need 'em?).

Could've gone to dinner with the CMO of the company we advertise for, but it required exerting a high amount of energy traveling across town to do so. NBD, we've been hanging with the C boys all week.

I got the sandwich because I wasn't really hungry yet, but walking in the dark sounded like a bad idea, and due to DST, the sun is now setting at 5:30. Might as well crawl into a hole and hibernate with a bottle of wine until spring. I guess I could have gone that route, too. Grabbing a bottle of wine, greasy corn dog, and some cheddar munchies and celebrating the fact that tomorrow is Friday.

But that would have raised the ultimate question.....

Franzia...?

(shudder)

Plus, there wasn't much to celebrate when I got back to the room. I found my door ajar. Well not so much ajar as just open. I searched every nook and cranny of the room, including the ledge over the air conditioner where it is humanly impossible to fit, before I came to the conclusion that I did indeed leave the door open myself.

I'm kind of insulted: Cute girl, open room, laptop and iphone on the bed. Not even thieves and rapists want to hang out with me.  

Exasperated exhale.

Now I'm doing what I do best, watching Family Guy, eating tropical skittles, and looking up flights for which I will be emailing my mom the itinerary so I can use her credit card and then pay her back.

To some, this is a sign I should probably not be buying plane tickets since I can't afford them. And to those people, I declare they are no fun at all. Living beyond your means is another trend for the new year. Besides, I have a 401k, which to me means that I can live paycheck to paycheck relying on my credit card in between.

It's the American Way.

Besides, I'm still waiting on my stimulus.

...Or if you're paying for my breakfast (that's you, corporate card!).  You see, I thought about getting raisin bran this morning, but opted for the peanut butter english muffin combo instead. I love raisins. And I have been regretting the decision all day. I even almost bought raisin bran crunch at the Extra Mile gas station (which I am pretty sure is code for freebies you can get in the back room if you buy enough gas--"buy 10 gallons and get your tank filled for free [insert winky face]").

But the thing about breakfast is that cereal is only good at breakfast for me. I'm a total fan of breakfast for dinner, mainly because I believe bacon is a gift from God's golden hand, but cereal and milk just don't do me justice at night.

Alas, I salute you raisin bran. You have taken over my brain. I will probably dream of raisinettes, the dancing California raisins, and those little red boxes of SunMaid goodness all night.

Of course, if the damn hotel/motel/holiday inn had just had cinnamon raisin bagels I could have put peanut butter on that and my whole day would have gone off without a hitch.

My life is so haaaaaaard.

I'm also annoyed that I totally forgot I wanted a McDonald's ice cream cone and now I am going to be too lazy to go get one. Plus I already had skittles and too much sugar usually puts me into some sort of coma where I wake up feeling like I haven't had water for days.

We're talking wandering through the sandy desert staggering toward the oasis only to find I am trying to drink from a prickly cactus.

 Lucky for me, I am not in a desert (re: notice the one "s", you grammatical nuisances).

I am in California. Where I will be again in 2 months for the New Year's Eve/Vegas/BCS Championship extravaganza.

Jealous?

You should be.

To quote a wise girl, "It's official. I'm living in a fantasy land."

Well played. Well played, indeed.