Yesterday afternoon, the start of my weekend, timed too perfectly, my throat started feeling funny. I could feel some type of sickness about to overcome me. I went to the gym to work out, knowing that I had to do so then before the sickness fully set in, before I felt too lazy to do so, knowing that there would be no exercise over the next few days. By the time I left the gym, it had already worsened, and today the soreness is spread throughout my throat, not debilitating in any way, but annoying nonetheless, especially in that it is coinciding with my two days off work. But given how broke I am right now, perhaps it is actually a blessing in disguise, this thing making me want to stay at home and not go out and spend money I should not be spending on drinks and food and expensive art fairs.
I spent the day on my couch finishing Jeffrey Eugenides' The Marriage Plot, which was disappointing in how average it was. I had been hoping for something better, perhaps am remembering Middlesex as better than it actually was. It wasn't a bad book by any stretch, but it never came close to greatness, which I had been hoping for.
I think that my sickness may have been caused by being at my job, which is still an active construction site with dust and other particles floating through the air, down into my lungs. I leave every day covered in dust and imagine that breathing that in all day has not made my throat too happy.
I went to my first female strip club this past week with two of my co-workers during lunch hour, titties jiggling on stage while we ate food a few feet away. It was much nicer than I expected, the club. I felt vaguely uncomfortable looking at the ladies, less so once I had a martini. This week I also saw Sharon Needles give a great performance at Westway. I also had a disastrous dining experience at a restaurant I cannot mention for various reasons, but it is often cited as one of the top three restaurants in New York. The food was great and I got to tour the kitchen, but it was unnecessarily awkward and I can't say more than that online. I have had a quite a few martinis this week, been in places where it would be okay to order one. I really love a good martini, though the problem is that the places that make them aren't the places I want to party, and so I will chug cans of bud light or vodka sodas in plastic cups, and I will dance and get sweaty, and ride subway train homes with my boyfriend passed out on my arm. And I will be happy.