Fucked.
First of all, you’ve got to play this game … it was a guilty pleasure of mine when I was at Two Strikes:
Pink Slip.
And when you’re done killing all the useless employees, visit its parent site at Fucked Company for a nice T-Shirt for Casual Friday. 🙂
Fucked personally in that CMU Boy got FRONT-ROW SEATS to Melissa Etheridge last night at the concert I crapped out on. Damn. Fuck me running.
Waddling.
Hated sight of self on Web site mentioned below (not listing link due to not wanting to expose world to pic). On top of it all, feeling like a stuffed enchilada in outfit that used to be loose on me. So, instead of continuing to feel like I should be lying on a plate in a Mexican restaurant instead of sitting in a chair, I decided to join gym with SM. Haven’t done it yet, but because the decision has been made, well, that’s half the battle.
SM asked what time of day workouts should occur, once I secure my membership. Here was my response, after hearing why she wants to get into the groove of working out:
1. Mornings are just no good. I am cranky and generally do not want to be near people, especially those who are skinny and perfect. 🙂
2. Lunch hours are OK but being all sweaty won’t work here … our luck the a/c would be malfunctioning when we came back! (note to readers, you either need a swimsuit or a parka on any given day. 420 keeps a winter coat in his closet year-round and has worn it at least once this month!)
3. Weekends are good. I need a reason to drag my lazy arse out of bed!
4. I would also like guys chasing me down, and if I’m in shape, I can at least outrun the scary ones!!! 😉
I’m so funny. But I WOULD love to fit into all the scandalous underwear I own! And I don’t wanna diet … already gave up smoking last month … I sure as hell don’t intend to give up everything I love!!!
Gallivanting.
For the friends back home:
Check out Stupid Tourists to see the sights Lab Rat and I saw today. What I wouldn’t give to NOT be pictured! At any rate, check out the bridge pic … it’s my favorite. 🙂
Mmm. … Joni Mitchell.
Purchased the remaster of “Miles of Aisles” by Joni Mitchell yesterday. “Case of You” was the main reason I bought it. The only thing that could’ve made the album perfect would have been to have “River” on it. But I have enough cover versions of that song to last me a lifetime, so I’ll live. 🙂
SM and I had a blast last night. Skipped the FedEx Field experience and instead went down to Pentagon Row to Champps , where we proceeded to rant for hours that passed like mere minutes. She reminds me so much of Accounting Dawn … someone I miss terribly … so I am pleased to have someone like SM in my day-to-day life who can share the global perspective that I unwittingly find myself acquiring every day.
The Importance of Locking One’s Door:
I lock all my doors. Religiously. Obsessively. And I check them compulsively, at least three times. And thanks to a weird situation yesterday, I will continue to do so. What happened: I was fresh out of the shower, hair straight and an unusual application of acne medication on my problem spots (usually I wear makeup 23 hours a day; it’s strange to have a clean face and some OTC product covering the blemishes that I thought I’d have lost by age 14). At any rate, I was outside in a tank top (:::eek:::), attempting to rub the scratches out of Samantha Jones and preparing to do windows and the interior, when some guy pulled in next to me. I paid him little mind (I never see anyone here and don’t see any real need to befriend the neighbors, as most don’t even speak English). He said hi, and I returned it. He went into my building briefly and popped right back out, and I was startled when I heard him comment on how good my car looks.
Name is Paul, is probably in his late 40s/early 50s. And as I learned, lives in the apartment next door.
I was conscious of my very LOW-cut shirt, and the white cream that was splotched all over my face, which was slowly being eroded by perspiration in the 97-degree heat. I attempted to cover both, but it was kinda pointless, because I didn’t really give a shit what he thought of me. Long story short, before he walked away, he invited me to come over for a “cold drink” after I finished my work on the car.
So, that episode was forgotten till, at 9:20 p.m., I was flying out the door to meet SM on the corner (yeah, I found me a new corner in this city! It’s still a buck-a-fuck, but I’ve only found one taker so far! hee hee), when I practically ran right into him. He said he had knocked (bullshit; Lab Rat and I had been home for 15 minutes at that point, and we didn’t hear anything); personally, I think he was standing there, trying to get up the nerve to knock.
I was flustered; made a quick and frankly, botched, introduction between him and Lab Rat. I asked what he wanted, and he said he had come over to invite me over for a drink. (Jesus H). I told him I was literally out the door to meet someone and to catch me another time. I don’t remember thanking him for the offer; I’m almost sure I did. All I can say is that I am so glad the door was locked; what if he’s a nut and wants to come in, whenever he feels like it? Ugh. Bad imagery. Just bad.
Talked with Lab Rat briefly while I waited at the curb for SM; I wondered if he were simply being neighborly or if he wanted a Building 6369 concubine. For the fact that he should have INCLUDED Lab Rat in the invitation for a drink but DID NOT, we assumed then that he was looking for probably more, but the mind just CANNOT go there!!! Gaaahhh!!!
SM’s right — ignore a guy and have better things to do, he’ll want you. Throw yourself at him, he’s history. She says to reverse my pattern — ignore the guys I want yet don’t exactly indulge the ones I don’t … instead, hang around the ones that can tide me over till the good ones realize that they need to chase me in order to earn my attention.
Damn. And here I had hoped that, by age 28, the relationship reindeer games would have been long over. They’re just beginning, it seems. …
And I will WAIT till RK contacts me, if ever!!! Go, me!!! (:::doing cabbage patch dance:::)
Symbolism.
I’ve had this pretty soapstone sculpture of two doves on a branch for at least the last decade. It was a special little gift from Pinhead. It cracked once … one of the doves decided to attempt suicide and became detached at the ass, but never fear … a little bit of superglue and his ass was together again. 🙂
But then yesterday, I was attempting to dump change into a huge cobalt vase that sat just behind the little birdies, not only did the same bird finally succeed in committing suicide, but the remaining bird’s wing cracked off. Surprisingly, I didn’t get upset — I just pitched the pieces across the room, where they landed perfectly into my trash can.
It’s not that I really associated Pinhead with the doves, but I did associate the doves with a time in my life when things were simple, easy. It was the one tangible thing left from my high school days that didn’t give me indigestion. Oh well. I learned that Pinhead’s in Nashville these days. Mom did actually go to our supposed 10-year reunion (the private one) on the 13th … she said none of the idiots showed up, and if they did, she didn’t recognize them. I’m so freakin’ glad I didn’t put 500 miles on the car for that non-event, but like I told 420, it would have filled my heart with such joy to see Tuna and Frumper at 800 pounds each, which I envision them to be. lol.
The symbolism of the breaking of the doves: They survived one fracture, but even though things looked “all better” on the surface, the rift that was created from within could never possibly heal itself. Thus, the next test broke it for good, and it became time to say a final goodbye. Of course, that sums up my connection to Pinhead. Trash for the trash. I hope he’s enjoyed the last few years at the curb — maybe some nice trash collector picked him up by now. 🙂
Scattered.
My mind is everwhere today. Learned more about Alexandria, in taking 420 to/from Mt. Vernon Hospital. Went to Krispy Kreme (a good thing!). Mmm … doughnuts (::said in my best Homer Simpson impersonation::).
Horoscope said today might be a day that I fall in love. Yeah, right. I’m immersed in research on drug testing and 420 legalization (the plant, not my friend, for the slow-of-mind!!!) … I could fall in love with a nap, at this point, and probably only that. 😉
Got email from CMU Boy, in response to my second plea for what-the-hell-is-going-on-this-weekend information. I was trying to nicely say that while I’d adore meeting him and seeing Melissa Etheridge, I’d understand (and encourage) him to take another guest. Finally, he responded to basically tell me that this is “too much backflipping” and that perhaps we can talk about attending a show in D.C. together eventually. I was happy. Not that I ever expect to meet this man, BTW, but really, who wants to put 500-plus miles on their car to go to a concert where you don’t even know the person you’re meeting? I’ve seen a photo of him, but I don’t even think I sent one of myself, and I’d hate to drive out to fricking Burgettstown to the Post-Gazette Pavilion just to wait there with no ticket in-hand, hoping that my date showed up. It’s not like he was extending an offer to pick me up or let me meet him at his house … and the concert is, oh, three days away.
Besides, got an offer from SM for a Washington Redskins party at FedEx Field on Saturday. Not like I give a hoot about football (especially if it isn’t the Steelers!), but it sounds like a nice night out for us. 420 keeps saying that I need to quit worrying about the men and concentrate on making/sustaining good friendships in the city I now inhabit. SM was cute … was really worried because she only has two tickets to this event and fears offending 420 by inviting me and not him. I told her that just for the fact that she’s concerned about him will be enough for him — it’s not like he’s a football fanatic — and further, he’d be thrilled that I am not on the road to Pgh to meet the infamous CMU Boy but am instead bonding with a colleague.
RK goes to Boston tomorrow. I need to give a quick call to wish him a safe trip.
No word from CTL, but AssTwit called, outta the bloody blue, last night to share Two Strikes gossip. Our phone line sucks, ‘cuz it was all staticky and nasty, like it is every damn time I use the phone. I think it would behoove me to sit down with Lab Rat one of these days and figure out if we *really* need a home phone, because the phone company sucks donkey dick, and with two dead outlets and a crappy connection anyway, I have no desire to pay the company to come into the apartment to fix the line and jacks when I don’t even use the phone anymore.
The HR queen just walked by … that’s HR as in Huge Rear, not human resources. Lord, that woman’s ass is the size of a small country. She looks like a Teletubby. Jesus H. And she always wears these low-cut shirts (no wonder we’re losing casual dress days for good come Sept. 1) … I told Ollie that when you can see the wrinkles, you know it’s time for her to wear a less revealing shirt. Ollie said that you don’t have to look too far to find wrinkles on her. LOL. Oh, was that mean? hee hee. I’m such a bitch.