2004-12-18 @ 1103424219
Well, my pants are once again unzipped. And no its not for THAT. Its for a condition I have named Christmas Cookies Expando Pants-a-rama. Around 10:30 my doorbell rang. I was naked naturally, since I do that sort of thing around the house, so I had to scramble into a nightgown, so as not to scare the person at the door. It was my Eye-talian landlord with a big plate of Christmas cookies and a Christmas card.
Awww, how nice, considering I usually only see her once a month when she grabs my rent check so fast sparks fly and then slams the door in my face. Well, "Hi, to you too!" I know for her its more of a case of gimmee the rent you damn Irish girl and don't steal any of my leprechaun lawn ornaments either. Of course, I get my revenge by flashing my boobs at her husband out my kitchen window every night.
Yeah, as if I'd let Vito Corleone see "the girls" for free.
Oh, I guess I should mention that I've now signed up with the wild and groovy Blog Explosion place. Yowza! My traffic has
(note to witty: You have to have sex before you can have children. Oh yeah, that's right, thanks).
So yeah, I ate the entire plate of cookies for breakfast. I don't know why I even bothered eating them. I should have just taken a butter knife and made an incision in my abdomen and stuffed them in there, since that is where they're going anyways. And why not save a few macaroons to jam in under my chin as well, since that is the #2 place for fat to congregate on me. Tummy and chin(s).
Damn, and I had looked so damn fetching this summer, and now I'm on the verge of becoming the "before" picture in a Weight Watcher's TV commercial. I think I am feeling so toady-licious today because I haven't been able to do much walking since the weather has turned colder. I usually walk about 15 miles a week and now that it's only about 15 degrees out, I'm lucky to walk .0001 miles a week. Fuck the living near Canada thing. I do have a membership to the YMCA, but because of my fibro, I really can't do anything too strenuous. I had been swimming, but the water was so cool in our pool, that my muscles actually burn when I get in the water. So now I am well on my way to becoming one of those 4000 pound people Maury Povich rescues out of their house, by chopping their door frame away. Ugh! Christmas cookies, go away.
I did manage to unwedge myself from my house today and go to Barnes and Nobles. I had found a great Christmas card for "A" last weekend, but hadn't picked it up because of long lines. But was it there this week when I went back? No! Frookin' hell, how can you sell out of a Christmas card? What? Did Keith Herring only hand draw three of them before he died? Sheesh! So now I'm on the search for another card. And I see him on Tuesday morning. Damn.
I then went over to the YMCA to hit the whirlpool, since I'm nursing a really sore leg. Some time during the night Thursday, my leg decided to have the charlie horse of the decade while I was sleeping. It was so severe it actually woke me up screaming in pain. Maybe I had tried to kick Married Guy in the balls while I was dreaming or something, but man, did it ever hurt. Friday morning when I tried to get out of bed, I nearly fell. And then I spent most of the day Friday limping. I even asked my friend "G" down in Manhattan for advice. He works with Broadway dancers who constantly get hurt (his show being the most strenuous on Broadway).
The whirlpool felt really nice and the "Y" was pretty empty for a Saturday which was nice. I guess everyone was at the Malls.
I did have a grand view once I got back into the dressing room. While I like being nude at home, there are those who like being nude in public, and there was this chick in the dressing room who probably weighed about 275 pounds. Now I see nude people all the time in my drawing class, so nudies are no big thing, but this woman was standing in the middle of everything, yacking away, rubbing cream all over her entire body. On her thighs. On her ass. All over her breasts (and they were humongous...talk about weapons of mass destruction). She was actually standing talking to her friend, with her breast cradled in her hand, rubbing it with cream. Rub. Rub. Ruuuuub. MMMMmmmmmmmm.
And I was standing around the edge of the lockers, thinking back over my 46 years. Hmmm? Is there ANY of my friends who I would ever stand totally naked in front of, cupping my breast and sensuously rubbing cream on it while talking about buying cat food at Target?
Ummm, no. Yeah, I guess I have issues. I'm just finally getting to where I can get naked in the locker room. But if any little kids are running around, I always grab for my clothes. I don't like little kids seeing me naked. It eeks me out, especially the little boys, five and under, who sometimes stand and stare.
I then headed over to Target after the gym. It was pretty wacko. I was just scoping out the place because my mom is getting me a gift certificate for there for Christmas. I don't really go to Target much, so I wanted to see what they had. I also checked out their Christmas card selection. I found one really funny card for "A" but it was a little too naughty. I've got to be good. Don't want to violate any boundaries. Us bipolars are sometimes confused by things like that. But it was funny.
My last stop was the yuppie grocery store. Why? Because being out of 1) Diet Coke 2) Yogurt or 3) Raisin Bran, constitutes a Code Orange emergency at my house. And that place was totally jammed too. I had to wait to get into the meat counter to get some hamburger. Just as I was leaning over to get the meat, I glanced up and saw Married Guy's first wife "L" (not to be confused with the current spoiled wifie #2). Gulp. Maybe she didn't see me. It was just a very brief glance, so I looked away and then looked back and she was looking right at me, and said, "Hi witty." I said "Hi" and then went back to getting the meat, since she was about 15 feet away. It was like a hit and run "Hi".
His first wife had never been particularly friendly to me. She's very stand-offish and would frequently not even acknowledge me when I would see her at Married Guy's house or at kidlet's concerts. It was like she was too good to be associating with such riff raff. For a while I was even under the impression that she thought that I was Married Guy's maid. I even made a joke to that effect to MG and he said, she thought HE the guy who mowed the lawn for a while. She was very snobbish. M.G. really seems to be into those snobbish types. Not sure why, since he's very blue collar and fighting for the under dog and all. Or maybe that WAS why. Because he COULD get them. The snobby girls.
So I turned back to the meat counter once again, and then I heard this little voice..."Hi Witty!" and I turned and there was kidlet. My little buddy. Married Guy's son, who I have missed so damn much in the last two months. My heart nearly broke into two pieces when I saw his cute little face. He was just standing there holding onto my shopping cart. I didn't know what to say. Like "You're Dad's an asshole, but I really think the world of you!"
I asked him how he was doing. He said he was fine. I commented on how long his hair was and how curly it was. He smiled, touching it and said, "I guess so." And then I said, "Well, I hope you have a nice holiday season!" and he thanked me and walked away.
I felt like such a cad. Kidlet truly was the person in the middle of all this. I had remembered how Married Guy had "used" kidlet during our disagreement, for guilt, and how angry that had made me. How can you use a little kid in a disagreement? That was so low. And yet he had used it because he knew how incredibly fond I was of kidlet. I loved kidlet, in fact and Married Guy had always nurtured our relationship. Why? Maybe because current wifie really has no emotional connection with any of his kids? Who knows?
I finally threw the damn package of meat into my cart and looked over at kidlet and his mom who were now a little further down the aisle. He was talking on a cell phone. Christ. I bet you any money he was calling Married Guy to tell him who he just talked to. Why else would a 13 year old be talking on a cell phone in a grocery store? He's just not a cell phone type of kid. I tried to slip by without detection. I still had some other stuff to get so I headed in the opposite direction, but damn if I didn't keep seeing them at the end of every fucking aisle. They didn't see me, but it was just too much for me emotionally. I finally just got the few things I REALLY needed and headed out.
Driving home, I started crying. I really miss my relationship with kidlet. I loved giving him piano lessons. I loved the way he used to look up to me and thought I was cool. I loved the way he would try to impress me with improvised songs on the piano. I loved the look he gave me the day I asked him for an autograph after one of his piano concerts (he really thought he was hot shit after that. I still have his autograph). I loved the artwork he proudly showed me when it was featured at the school art show. I loved when we would take walks down his street and he would try to impress me with tricks on his bicycle. And he loved to make his older brother jealous because he had witty as a friend and music teacher and he didn't.
And I can't help but wonder if Married Guy will make another attempt to contact me....because I am positive kidlet told him about our meeting. But then, what would the point be, right? All the old hurts are still in place. It's just unfortunate that a cute kid who won my heart 5 years ago, has to pay for the sins of his asshole father.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty