Trabajando Dia

They used to call him Jimmy the Saint because he went spent some time in seminary school. But back in the day, he was the bitches' bastard!

- Old man in malt shop
Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead

Today is worker's day. You need to move here. Every time a pigeon takes a dump it's a holiday.

I am downloading the new Porcupine Tree and Rush Albums respectively from the Irish Rover Bar, watching Liverpool/Chelsea in the Champions League Semi-finals.

I was supposed to be in Cordoba (instead of Sevilla) with Patricia, but alack, I am a freak magnet. It's nice for stories but bad for meeting women.

Here's the craic:

She asks me to go with her to Sevilla on Wed. El Dude say 'Sure."

Sunday: Cordoba is closer. She calls to say she has the tickets reserved, but we have to meet tomorrow (Lunes) at 8:45 at the Atoche train station to pay and pick them up. Okay-Spain is inefficient. I get it. I say I'll see her tomorrow night.

Stuart's Mum and Sis had been staying with us since Thursday. It was 1 am on lunes and my phone charger was in the living room where Stuie was sleeping. I wake up monday and charge my phone. I left it, but no one calls me between 8:30 and 10:30. I'm in class.

Then I go to try and give my time sheet in to the school i quit. They are closed. Morons! Then I send the onesy to Annie via post and that takes forever. The daft cunt claimed to not understand my Spanish when I know I had the right words.

"Packet postal!" I say, trying to buy an enevelope, which for reasons unknown, is under plastic security glass like it's a Rolex. I even tell him it's amarillo (yellow). If you think civil servents in DC act entitled, you should see Spain.

Finally he opens the safe to get me an envelope and says "Por este?" (for this) and points to the onesy.

"No, you fucking epsilon minus- semi-moron, for the elephant I have outside! Better yet, give me a really small packet postal too, so I can mail your balls back to you!"

Then I get coffee and a danish and the guy behind the counter tells me I should use a plate (you buy the danish at a different counter).

"Then give me one, imbecile!" God forbid you should have to wipe the counter after a customer eats.

I get home to a text message sent at 8:45 - i'll see you in 15 minutes- Patricia

Shit! she meant 8:45 AM. I know I told her i work then!

I call her- no answer as she's at the hospital. I text her explaining.

I get a text back at 3:30 - I'm doing some stuff while the class is working alone for 5 minutes:

The tickets are gone by now. I made other plans for tomorrow. Maybe next time. Sorry.

Now, she only gets off at 3pm. She said they may sell out, but why did make other plans? How did she make other plans so fast, while in the emergency room? Why didn't she say AM? Half the people here don't wake up til noon?

I was bummed, looking forward to spending the day with her and getting to know her. She asked me to go!

So I called, she explained that she had told me we needed to pick them up within 24 hours, but she never said AM. I said "see you tomorrow night." Her English accent is weird, and she was rushed as her phone was almost out of credit. I guess it was lost in translation. But she never even called me from the train station when i didn't show.

This is a two day holiday, so i ask if she can get together Monday night or Wed. She says she has plans the rest of the holiday, and all day Tues. "I'll just see you at JJ's on Wed night."

Weird.

I was bummed, all daydreams of a romantic day in Cordoba roasted to a cinder on my mental barbecue. I finished work and told Kristen when I got in, my main reference source on woman, how-to-dress, and what-smells-bad-and what-doesn't.

"Freak," She says. "Jay, you know she doesn't have plans tomorrow. She's going to stay home and cut herself on the inner thighs with a razor."

Hmmmm. Never thought of that. Sure, why not. She's a doctor. She can heal herself up without infecting.

Not sure if I'll go to JJ's tomorrow. She seems a bit tweeked. I've already done crazy - and I'm so over it. In the words of Pink Floyd, Run like Hell.

So here I am, downloading music, talking to you. Not bad at all. It's freezing today. God fucking hates the Spanish and they always have awful weather on the holidays.

Other than that, everything is great. Work is good, life is good. Our kitchen is clean.

Okay- now iTunes is saying I can't convert the music files. Makes no sense at all. Just one of those weeks, i guess. Fuck it. Rock on Brothers and Sisters! Rock out naked to Pink Floyd's Animals, dancing on an awning, covered in strawberry jam!!!