You don't want to read it, believe me.

But I am having somewhat of a crisis of faith. A customer came in today with a poetry shirt on. Most of the time, I would strike up a conversation about the shirt. (Bantering with customers is my specialty. Today, I started a conversation with one customer who told me her whole life story. She was coming in to exchange some coffee that her no-good boyfriend bought earlier in the day, except he got it all wrong. I ended up advising her to kick said no-good boyfriend to the curb. I'm part barista, part therapist. I should charge extra.)

The point is, I will gladly start a conversation with customers about almost anything, but I didn't bring up the poetry shirt. I didn't want to talk about poetry. I didn't want to say "I'm a poet" because right now the rejection slips are piling up, and it feels like a lie.

I had the BEST TIME with Bruce when he came to visit me. He arrived on Wednesday and left on Saturday, and we did so many fun things-- from a porno theater to past life regression. I need to take some time and do an entry.

I have tomorrow off, which is nice. But all that means is that I will sleep in instead of getting up at eight in the morning. So it's not really a day off so much as a few hours of respite. And then things get frantic again, since I have class in the afternoon, and then I have to do tips, and on and on.

God, I'm not used to working on Tuesdays. Last Tuesday I wouldn't have even come in unless Becky had called to remind me. I caught myself just now thinking, "Well, at least I can do my homework and get stuff done on Tuesday," but of course I can't. New hours, and all. I close on Tuesday. Goddamnit. I miss having Tuesdays off.

Tonight was my second solo close-- meaning I was the only Person in Charge in the store. It went reasonably well, except we were twenty minutes late because I screwed up some stuff with the safe. (Security features-- I can't tell you any details of that. It's not interesting anyway.) I feel like I'm not efficient enough yet-- someone else always seems to shut down the bar for me because I don't get around to it.

Thanks to my good closers, I am getting everything done, but I'm having a hard time getting my crew out on time. Part of it is that the customers won't leave. We give them a ten minute warning and everything, but they don't seem to understand the concept of going the hell home. Yesterday, CeeCee ended up holding the front door open pointedly and saying, "You have to GO now" in this very rude but necessary way.

Working as a supervisor is pretty fun-- I like working with money and stuff, and my back has been holding up. And closing on Saturday nights is great because I get home exactly in time to watch Saturday Night Live, which I always used to forget to watch. And my paycheck this week had a retroactive pay increase, so it was (for me) a big check. That's the upside.

The downside is that I don't do my homework anymore and my eating habits are atrocious. (For dinner tonight I had a Rice Krispie treat and an almond croissant.) Oh, and I don't see anyone anymore unless they come to my work. (Tonight Megan came in and told me about the day she spent with Simon, the waiter. Things are progressing smoothly there, and they are making plans to get together again. So yay, our dastardly scheme worked.)

Things will come into balance somehow, they always do. But this period of adjustment is kicking my ass.

When I got home from work tonight, I threw all my clothes and my shoes into the washing machine. I often do my laundry in the nude for expediency's sake. However, I do live with people. One of these days, I'm going to be trotting around naked and run into one of them. I look forward to that.

I don't think I've mentioned that I got a few more birthday gifts in the mail last week. I wanted to thank the givers before I mentioned it in an entry-- even though I haven't called Katie yet, I'll write about it anyway.

Saundra sent me Hedwig and the Angry Inch, which was the one DVD above all others that I absolutely had to have this year. I was so touched that she would even think of me when she has so much on her mind right now. She's got such a good heart.

Okay, I also got Music for Elevators from Shmuel. I forgot that it was even on my list, so it was a great surprise. And Shmuel is a fellow impoverished grad student, so I certainly didn't expect him to send me a gift; he's too sweet. And plus, it's by Anthony Stewart Head, whose autographed photo is my new boyfriend.

I've been listening to the CD while bike riding, and I have to tell you that I love it. But I'm not so in love with Tony Head that I can't see the flaws. In fact, sometimes it reminds me of Ross on Friends, playing his keyboard. The Casio sound effects are reminiscent at times.

This just makes it all the more loveable, though. And the songs are damn catchy. Oh and also, there's a hidden bit of spoken word from James Marsters on there somewhere. All American-like. Swoon.

Finally, Katie sent me the special edition of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. There are so many special features and I haven't checked them all out yet, but this DVD totally rules. For instance, they have "Subtitles for People Who Don't Like the Film" which are all taken from Shakespeare's Henry IV. The thing that kills me is that the lines sort of match the action on the screen, like the script has been put through some kind of bizarre translator. (I would go find you an example, but christ, it's already one in the morning. Cut me some slack and just trust me. It's hilarious.)

This gift reminded me of two things. One, it reminds me that I miss Katie and should call her. And two, I should send her the Christmas gift I've had lying around for about six months. Hmm. I guess I'll add that to the bottom of my to-do list. With any luck, she'll get her gift before we both hit menopause.

"But a funny thing happened on the way to this entry. My haircut started to grow on me. Other than my visceral fear of layers, I'm thinking it might be sort of cute."