2004-02-11 @ 8:05 p.m.
|Greetings Witty --
Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, Feb. 11: Schedules are for those that can't handle spontaneity. You might appear to be a flake, but you're really multitasking at levels that most people don't notice. You'll clear your name. The proof is in the product.
Boy, this astrologer is so right on AGAIN! People thinking I'm a flake and not realizing that while I'm sobbing and weeping in my shower, I'm actually running a multimillion dollar sex toy company out of my closet. Phew.
And the proof is certainly in the "product", whatever that means.
See that gold plated stretch limo parked out in the driveway? Ya gotta realize that I've been pulling your leg all along...you know, about the poverty thing. I guess you'll just have to sit back and chuckle and say...that silly Wittykitty!
So, here I am on the last day of my 45th year. If my shrink was reading this he would probably say, Witty, you're telling everybody its your birthday so they'll feel obligated to buy you presents and wish you a happy birthday tomorrow.
I guess because I don't work in an office where my co-workers could give me a cake and a gift certificate to Olive Garden. And because I don't have a slew of close friends who will fall over themselves to throw me a big surprise party down at the local yuppie bar. And I guess, because I'm not Oprah Winfrey, and my birthday wasn't recently proclaimed a national holiday, I'll just settle for being obnoxious in Diaryland. OK? Good.
Of course I am now only about 3 hours away from my birthday. Did you feel the lights dim? That's was me, Drama Queen Extraordinaire powering up to be the center of attention for 24 hours. And I'm ready, baby. Woo hoo! Make me da queen.
Married Guy has kindly offered to come pick me up tomorrow for a wittykitty birthday extravaganza. He was originally going to pick me up at 1, but now its noon. We're going out to his house for a massage. Nobody will be home til 3. (cough).
WHAT!!...I was just making a freakin' observation!!!
And he always makes my birthdays special. We've got the massage going. And then I will do piano with the kidlet when he gets home from school. And then Married Guy will probably make me a beautiful dinner and cake.
Yes, this guy even cooks. Can you believe it? My sole requirement for true love....someone who cooks???
But I'm wondering....what else will he do tomorrow? The last three years, things have really escalated on my birthday. Each year has gotten progressively more personal.
Three years ago, he bought me a personal hand shower and wrote on the giftcard..."For when I'm not there."
Ha, ha, he...sorry...I don't EVER remember you being there to wash the dainties.
And then two years ago, he wrote me an e-mail on my birthday saying "We love you." But I was thinking....well, I'm not entirely sure wifey loves me. The kids like me pretty well. The gerbils are wild about me. But "We"?
And then last year the I Love You card.
So...tomorrow...a massage...at his house...nobody there for the first 2 hours. Hmmm?
Whoops, there I go fantasizing again. Damn you witty. What's up with that? I was almost going to drop my shrink an e-mail and ask him to write me back and just type, "Don't do it".
Do what? Well, I'm not sure exactly. I will be wearing my birthday suit after all.
OK, I admit it...the big mistake thing. I guess because I still need to be told what NOT to do. Why? Because age hasn't necessarily produced wisdom in my case. Instead it has produced yearning for a better life. Yearning for someone to share it with. And yearning to hop in the sack.
Will I do it? No. Will I be thinking about it? Yes. Why? Because my shrink has got me so well conditioned about all the disastrous variables of getting laid by Married Guy, that there is no other option. He knows that I need to be reminded constantly...like don't do anything you'll regret. OK, "A" promise. I promise I won't write you an e-mail Friday morning saying "My depression and self loathing has left the building and I think you know why. (grin)"
Boy, I'm really having a tough one. I told someone I was sub-human this week. Not sure what that is. Maybe like one step below Dr. Phil.
I just talked to my mom tonight (she is having chest pains and near death...AGAIN. But of course, it has more to do with the fact that its my birthday tomorrow and I will be getting maximum attention from the universe -- than actual health issues).
Anyways, I told her I thinking of auditioning for "The Littlest Groom", a new "Batchelorette" type reality show for Little People. I mean, I've already fallen in love with Gay Men. I've already fallen in love with Married Men, why not try a new medium?
I did go to my art group today with the crazy crazies. The class is shrinking smaller and smaller. Oh wait, there was only me...well, at least for most of the two hours.
It started out with two women though. One who talked constantly and put herself down. And the other one who painted rainbows and kept asking if coloring would make her pain go away.
But unlike other parts of my life, I do have incredible focus when I'm doing art. When I was trying to decide what to draw, I looked in a nearby craft book about framing. Inside one of the elaborate, overwrought crafty frames, was an Asian style dragon figure, so I decided to commit that to paper. A kimono dragon. As filtered through a psychedelic, Day-Glo haze.
I don't know why I like to paint so brightly and colorfully, when I feel so hideous and darkicidal. But this dragon is so freakin' cheerful and happy looking, that I figure my body is probably just trying to hemorrhage beauty out of ugliness. Does that make any sense? Beauty wanting to escape a cold, dark place?
Hey, that's probably just some damn hair-brained excuse for continuing to make art, but what the hell. I'm really pissed though. I'm missing my nude figure drawing class tonight, and its all because of my malfunctioning car. Damn car. And none of the buses in this town go where they're supposed to go.
Even my bus ride home today was so traumatic, that I nearly had a panic attack. If a bus normally holds 30 people, this one had about 45 on it. And they were all loud, and obnoxious and it was pretty damn uncomfortable.
But through all this extreme bitchiness and darkness I call life, I did get one other cool birthday gift yesterday.
My brother got me a digital Nikon camera.
Yeah, digital, as in I can take nekkid pictures and not go to Photomat!! :-)
But unfortunately he didn't give it to me, he gave it to my mom to give to me. Didn't really understand that, especially since my car isn't working and my mom is having chest pains and near death (AGAIN), so fruck! I guess the picture of the happy, psychedelic kimono dragon will just have to wait.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty