2004-04-01 @ 2:54 p.m.
|You can tell its almost Spring in my neighborhood for two reasons. Road construction and my landlord Mrs. Soprano unleashes twelve hundred and fifty lawn doodads, as in swirling daisies with reversible petals, duckies with swirling wings, rainbows with swirling reversing colors, swirling glass wind chimes that klinkle klankle, American flags sprouting out of every freakin' orifices, off roofs, out of windows, off mailboxes, out of flower pots.
And then we have the case of the evil cement leprechauns. Where have THEY been? And what has been unsettling, is the fact that the snow has been gone for about a week, and there were no leprechauns and then suddenly yesterday there was a sudden explostion of the gaily painted little bastards...
Lead by none other than evil ol' O'Hooligan-McGinty-McSquinty, who was standing at the edge of the driveway, looking all cheerful or was that a little leer?
Where did he come from? And then a little further, under the bushes, was another little redheaded bastard. And then another 3 of them were banded together at the edge of the house, just blankly staring at me getting out of Alf's car. Fruck, they're back.
But where were they all winter? I tried to rationalize that they were probably buried under all the snow we had this winter, but where were they the week, we didn't have any????
And then I realized, oh frooking hell...my landlord stores all her yardly goods right under my house for the winter. Does that mean I've been living up over a nest of Irish Evil Doers and didn't even know it? I thought I could hear strains of "Danny Boy" coming up through the floor several times when I was in the bathtub. And I did wonder what that smell was several times. Kinda smelled like cooking cabbage leaves and dirty leprechaun feet.
I may have to move now.
So for the second morning in the row, Married Guy has woken me up with a phone call. My, aren't we being attentive? I'm never sure if he's being attentive or he wants something. Aren't men just like that? He said the oddest thing though....and its only odd because its been one of the things that I've been ticked off at him about.
The incomplete insurance massage of March 12. It was supposed to be an hour and he only did a half hour with no explanation and then coldly said at my last massage that the insurance ones were over so it was back to bartering. Which was fine, if it had been true, but I was still lacking a half hour there, sweetie. I definitely wanted him to get paid by the insurance company for his services, but I also wanted to get what I needed too. Some much needed massage therapy for a sore body...and as long as its getting paid for...
So the call this morning went something like this: Well, your prescription for massage didn't have any number of times on it, so we might as well still use it.
Um, sure. Ok. Sounds good to me. But ya think if I sent in some more mileage requests, I'd get paid for them too? Probably not. I think he probably saw the error in his ways, so he's giving me some freebies, because I have no real way of checking to see if he's getting paid.
I could be wrong, but it just seemed like a strange thing to call me about this morning, especially since I haven't been communicating with him much. He again asked me to tell him about what happened last week, but I think I will hold off.
Got an e-mail from "A" this morning. He had to change my appointment next week. So I wrote back a little note, confirming the change and then adding:
"A" responded almost immediately with a ha, ha! See, why we get along so well? Its absolutely essential to have a shrink with a sense of humor, because humor is the only thing that keeps you off the edge of a bridge.
So I went to my figure drawing class last night, and had my chance to draw the most uptight, frightened nude model we've had to date.
She was a middle aged woman (yeeks, probably my age or maybe 3-4 years older since she was really wrinkly around her neck). There are windows all around the edges of the room, and she made the teacher cover all of the lower halves of them, so people couldn't look in and see her nudosity. Oh, did I mention, we're on the second floor and the windows are so dirty, you're lucky if you can tell if its day or night out.
And then for the poses, she just stood there like a deer frozen in headlights. Instead of feeling sorry for her, I actually felt a little ticked off. I was thinking, hey, I spent some of my much sweated over $8 ticket on this zombie woman, I want some action? And then when she attempted poses, they just looked ridiculous. My second drawing of her, I drew her to look like a satanic Martha Stewart, since she had the Martha Stewart hair thing going on. She was bright red and perspiring rivulets. I was hoping somebody in the class knew CPR, because she looked like the moment she unclenched she would probably collapse into a puddle and require medical attention.
I've actually told "A" about my desire to pose nude for the class, and now he's teasing me about it. And I kind of wonder....how would I react? All graceless and ashamed of my body? Like..oh,oh,oh, I'm the only naked person in the room, I hope nobody sees me. I think, really the only advantage I would have, is:
1). I would take drugs before I went 2). I've been going to this for 4 months now and could probably recall some of the more interesting poses I have seen. 3). I would probably be pretty turned on and have to concentrate remembering not to touch myself. 4). There would also probably be periods of disassociation, boredom, excitement, soreness (for standing in one pose for so long), and the great anticipation at the thought of making $45 for doing absolutely the same thing I do around the house. Be unclothed and enjoying it.
Of course, I would be wondering what certain people were thinking of me now...like...wow, she looked so much better with her clothes ON. And with the slope of my 46 year old breasts....there'd be a little gee, she's older than I thought. Because there's no hiding the loss of perkiness at age 46. Because, its gravity, baby!
So, my nude modeling career, may only be something I like to turn over in my head from time to tima, and play out in my bedroom, to the amusement of my cat.
But at least the little cement Irish boys in the basement seemed to have enjoyed their show, via the live wittykitty-cam. At least that's what I think the cheering was about...
Either the nude modeling or The World Cup.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty