BLOG: Lost Time

Saturday morning. Sitting on the porch having a coffee and listening to New Orleans Jazz Radio. Typical morning routine.

Pretty sure I discovered a wormhole last night. I wish I was kidding but I legit lost 45 minutes last night. I looked at my phone at 9:55pm and left my apartment to walk around downtown. I didn’t take my phone. I didn’t stop to talk to anyone. I did the bar loop, came back to my apartment, and the clock said 10:55pm. How?

I did the loop again with my phone and watched the time. I came in at about 15 minutes. Where the hell did that extra 45 minutes go?! I wasn’t even drinking last night! What happened?!

I have no idea, but this town is weird enough that the idea of accidentally walking through a hole in time and space in an alleyway doesn’t phase me. The idea of an alien abduction also doesn’t phase me, but I didn’t see any strange lights in the sky. Definitely not sure what happened there, but it’s Verm so it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve ever encountered here. I’ve seen some crazy shit here, man. Most of the time I don’t even think this place is real. I’m still 90% sure I crashed my car on the way home from Maryland the morning I moved and I’ve been in a coma ever since. All of this is just a crazy fever dream.

This town is totally dead right now. It’s usually calmer in the summertime but usually more students stay here. They all left months ago. The bar scene last night was pathetic. I walked by Bloody Mary’s and the only people in there were former/current employees. LOL! That’s really sad. They’ve got a literal historical legacy and a writer waving a book around to use in their marketing and they still can’t bring anyone in outside of their little clique. Pathetic.

I walked past the patio and all I saw was the Rat-Rat blabbering loudly and putting on his little show for the two whole people standing there. I thought to myself, “This truly is the worst timeline we are living in right now.” I walked away wishing I could just pluck them all off the patio so I could sit there and write in peace. Alas.

That reminds me, I’ve gotta refresh my memory on the classic cocktail list. I always forget the difference between a Manhattan and an Old-Fashioned. They asked me yesterday and I blanked. Ugh! Now I remember. The Manhattan is the fun one to make. That’s the one where I got to do the cedar board flame trick. I learned how to make the best version at my first bartending job. I always get compliments on my Manhattens. I don’t think I’ve actually made one since I worked at The Titanic. That was a year and a half ago at this point. Needless to say, I’m rusty AF.

Another reason I have to refresh all of this info because my last job was at a brewery. I had to memorize an entirely new set of information for that job. Now I don’t need any of it. In hindsight, it was one of my least favourite jobs I’ve ever had. It’s mostly because of the douchebros I worked with. They were awful. “Craft Beer Culture” is just another boys club.

Ugh. Craft beer. How pretentious. I judge people who drink IPAs. IPAs are garbage. IPAs are for people who don’t know how to develop their taste palate so they burn their tongue off instead. Gross. Craft beer is not my jam. I don’t like drinking it. I don’t like talking about it. I don’t like listening to other people talk about it. I don’t like the douchebro brewery culture. And now I will forever remember the fat, greasy, disgusting piece of shit I worked for who fired me without giving reason or notice right before a pandemic. “I want you to write about me and my brewery,” he said. Oh yeah? Well, here I am writing about you now. Not exactly what you were hoping for, right? Yeah. Be careful what you wish for, asshole.

Side note: I HATE it when people ask me to write about them. It’s so annoying. To the surprise of absolutely no one, it’s usually men. I tell them to go read Andrew and The Island of Lost Guys and ask me that stupid question again. The other question I hate is “Are you going to write about this?” Probably not, dude. I know you think you’re really interesting, but I don’t. I’m very busy with other projects. I don’t have the time or energy to add new characters right now. And quite frankly, I’m sick of writing about men. Andrew has ruined that for me forever! Ugh!

Men are annoying. This town is annoying. My life is annoying. Ugh. I feel like I’m trying to vent all of my bad experiences out so I can just start fresh. New job. New people. New menu. New experience. Just go in there with a clear head and hope for the best. Make as much money as possible. Go home and count the stacks. Everything will be okay.

Okay, I’m going to go do something else now. I don’t know what. Maybe avoid Facebook like the plague since that’s exactly what it is. I hate Facebook. Every time I think about it, I think of more and more reasons why it’s terrible. It’s such a negative thing for me. And I am saying this as a liberal person who has curated her feed to be a liberal echo chamber. I just can’t even.

What else is there to do in this town besides drink? Oh that’s right, absolutely god damn nothing. We already know I’m not going to get any writing done. Sigh. Time to begin the “Let’s see how long we can stave off day drinking to cure my boredom and misery” game! My bets are on three hours. Wish me luck.

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