2005-09-20 @ 10:18 p.m.
First note to self: When cat is about to have a round of projectile vomiting, don’t scream her name and cause her to gallop around the living room, leaving an 8 feet long Fancy Feast barf trail.
Second note to self: Never write a diary entry that says “It was the best day of the year”, because it will inevidibly be followed by one of the worst days of the year.
Third note to self: Why the hell did you Google Married Guy’s name today and then precede to look at every single article listed including one with a large photo of his face. Isn’t enough enough? About the only pleasure derived from the whole experience was that he looked like a little old Irish leprechaun. He was so squinty, you could barely even see those sexy blue eyes that used to pierce my soul and make me swoon. But today looking at the picture you realized that even though he and “A” are the same age, if you put them side by side, “A” would look about 10 years younger.
Fourth note to self: Why were you so startled today when “A” mentioned that he had run into Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy and you blurted out “Did he ask about me?” Of course not stupid. They know each other from their early bohemian years over in the artsy part of town, and also theoretically Charlemagne doesn’t know that I know “A”. Why should he? I told “A” how huggy, smoochy, Charlemagne has been getting recently and “A” only shook his head and said, “He’s always had trouble with boundaries”.
Fifth note to self: Oh great, I just passed the girl out in the hall who had seen me knocking spiders off the ceiling with the broom and instead of saying “Hi” she ducked theatrically and said “Oh spiders!”. I guess I will now forever be known at the Weird Spider Lady in Apt. #10. Arghh!
Sixth note to self: Admit that you’re not totally in love with your new apartment. The location is nice. The creek is great. The porch is nice. But the living room is so small that you get claustrophobic when you’re laying watching TV. Its like a long skinny shoe box. What was I thinking? Fruck.
Seventh note to self: Why is my neck swollen to the size of Fat Bastard’s in Austin Power’s “The Spy Who Shagged Me”? I just have a pair of ears and then suddenly there’s my shoulders. Its not really a great look for me. And its too hot to wear turtlenecks. This must be stopped.
Eighth note to self: Edited out. Sorry.
Ninth note to self: Seek shelter in the witness protection program.
Tenth note to self: Buy a winning lottery ticket so you don’t have to depend on anyone but yourself.
Eleventh note to self: Ok, my eye/hand coordination is usually pretty good, so why did that meatball flip out of my fry pan and land on my foot tonight? Of course, it did follow me running around after Guardcat yelling “Don’t puke” 23 times. Maybe I was a little jittery.
Twelfth note to self: Tomorrow when you have that meeting regarding your new empowerment group just nod and smile alot. Hopefully they won’t realize you didn’t even open the manual you were supposed to read. Why? Because you don’t have the attention span of a gnat. I can’t concentrate long enough to read anything lengthy anymore. That’s why the Internet is my bitch.
Thirteenth note to self: Tomorrow when you go to that specialist (a rheumatologist) try and remember everything you’re supposed to ask. You have to find out what is wrong with your health. I don’t write about it that much in this diary, but I am in persistent, frequently intense body pain. Pretty much everything on my body hurts except perhaps my eyelashes and recently I’ve added in fatigue and chest pain. I’ve never had those before. I’m freaked out. I was pretty whiney at “A”s office this morning, but at least he said “We have to find out what’s wrong with your health”, unlike my mother, who had to compare her week long bout with poison ivy to an illness that has been affecting my life for 15 years. Thanks “A”. At least some one cared enough to not turn the subject back to themselves.
Fourteenth note to self: Large Christmas bonus and choice of sports car for “A” if I win the lottery.
Fifteenth note to self: Can anyone figure out why we really supposedly care if “Jennifer Anniston is still fuming because Brad Pitt
Sixteenth note to self: Why are elderly men so darn enamored with you witty? Like that old guy on the bus. He had to have been at least 89. You gave him your seat in the handicapped section and his face lit up like a freakin’ Christmas tree. Him: “Thank you dear”. I just nodded. Him still smiling madly: “You’re very nice, dear.” I looked down at the floor. Ok, old man. Fine. Him: “Do you like me? I like you” and then he winked at me and kept on smiling. By then his wifie, who had helped him on the bus, was starting to get annoyed with Romeo because he started waving at me across the aisle. Him (again): “Do you like me? I like you!!” Geeze, I really wanted the old guy to die happy knowing that wittykitty thought he was cool, so I gave him a little nod of my head. His head tipped back and his dentures nearly fell out as he returned my nod. He then started waving at me again. I waved with my little finger. OMG. I think I gave him an old man woody, because then he tried to stand up while the bus was moving and I was like, gee Harold don’t fall and break your hip there sweetie. His wifie finally yanked him back into the bus seat and then he looked at me, still smiling and said, “See ya later, alligator.” and “After a while crocodile!” and started waving again. His wifie really got annoyed and yelled at him. Fortunately my stop came up and I had to get off and leave my potential sugar daddy behind. But damn....Why don’t I have that effect on younger men? Why you ask?
Seventeenth note to self:You certainly displayed an incredible amount of self restraint when you came down the escalator at the Bon Ton on Saturday and saw a woman putting up a White Christmas Tree with gaily wrapped presents underneath it. WHAT???????????? A CHRISTMAS TREE???????????? Its was only September 17th! If I hadn’t had to catch a bus there would have been blood shed and fake white pine needles everywhere!
Eighteenth note to self: Thou shalt not walketh down to the ice creameth place every dayeth and buyeth soft serveth ice creameth, just because its thereth, dumb shiteth.
Nineteenth note to self:Why did I take a pair of scissors and hand cut a pair of lace curtains so that they were supposedly even with the bottom of your window sill right in front of your computer. It looks like a drunk psychotic sloth went rabid and chewed them off. So now I get to sit and look at them everynight, until I can afford to go buy some new curtains at Target.
Twentieth note to self: Now what was I trying to remind myself of??
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty