"You fall in that weird category where you're not exactly a girl and not exactly a dude. You have Liz Lemon like tendencies."
That's either the nicest or most awful thing that's ever been said to me. I can't decide. Not the Liz Lemon part. I liked that part.
I had a terrible day. I woke up and it felt like I hadn't gone to sleep. I felt as if I was sleep walking for 7 or so hours. On my way to work I had this sinking feeling that at any moment I'd pass out and drift into another lane. I then made it to work and realized I forgotten my swipe card and keys. Going about my morning I tried the following things to snap myself out of it.
Watch Beaker videos.
Coffee.
Read the blogs that make me happy.
Deep breathing.
Needless to say none of this works. I felt woozy and sick, my head was spinning and I couldn't concentrate on my directing. Even the scathing wit of Dr. Tate couldn't cure my ails. I decided to take a sick day then ate some food and passed out on the couch. I awoke four hours later, feeling sore, to a blinding white light in my eyes and the sound of a snow shovel on the walk way, which incidentally led to bad dreams.. I went Christmas shopping. I then went to the book store and bought a D&D rules compendium. The line was quite long so I read through it while I waited. Then I got that feeling. Eyes were on me. I slightly turn to see what can only be described as a man. He is like Harold Crick. He is also judging me. The slight crinkle in the forehead, a slightly upturned lip. What right does he have? I wonder what he is thinking. I sneak a look down to see what he is buying. Comic books. I suddenly don't care what he thinks. I'm tired and in no mood.
Really, dude?
He catches me catching him and makes panicked eye contact. I shoot him a nasty look. It's like nerd on nerd crime.
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