2007-03-17 @ 4:11 p.m.
Well, the Tea Par-tay was a raging success. Although Dorkhead here, did have to have step-by-step instructions yelled out from the living room by Charlemagne, on how to make tea. First I filled the teapot too full with water and was unable to achieve full whistledom. And then it started to whistle, but it wasn’t whistling pleasingly enough or long enough, according to Charlemagne, so I had to stand in the kitchen, waiting for it achieve just the right pitch that only fruit bats in Uruguay could hear. And then I innocently asked if I just had to pour the hot water into the two mugs with the tea bags.
Again...my bad!! I was expected to actually have a ceramic tea-pot with some kind of Chinese print on it to pour the hot water into. Well, fortunately I used to sell antiques when I lived in Oregon and just happened to have an antique Hall’s tea-pot up on top of my refrigerator. Of course being next to the stove, it had about 4 inches of grease on it (again...my bad), so I had to do a quick scrubby scrubby. All this time Charlemagne is still yelling out instructions from the living room, like some kind of artsy Mussolini.
In my defense, I had set out grapes and cheese, so at least my guests weren’t just left sitting looking at
But they both really liked my apartment and asked if my fireplace was real (I would think the ashes and stray burned logs were a dead giveaway, but bygones). We talked about the Garden Hacker Guy and dating and naturally we ended up talking about sex. With Charlemagne there...All paths lead to sex. I was telling him a little about Married Guy (names and locations withheld of course) and some of his goings on and how he has sort of made me leery of men because of how he had used me and how I had let him. It was really a low self esteem issue for me. I wanted love, so I would do all sorts of dumb-ass things like drive 33 mile round trip in to take his son to a music lesson so his wife could take a glass of wine out in the garden after work and not be bothered with that uber pesky 4 mile trip down to the music center. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Zue was remarkably well behaved during the visit, although she did ask to use my bathroom and went in and flushed the toilet immediately, as in I just wanted to see your bathroom, so I’ll fake a trip in here and then flush the toilet. But she wasn’t quite so pushy and overbearing as usual. I guess she had hit the Motherlode! witty’s apartment! Here at last! Here at last!
Earlier in the day Charlemagne had called around 1:30 and said he had talked to Zue and she had another unexpected client at 3 p.m., so they had to postpone their visit until 5:30. I said no problem. And then he said, “She said you never e-mailed her with you phone number and address and she really wants you to. Please call her immediately when we hang up. (long pause) Oh, and she wants it before we come over.” Didn't that kinda sounded like a ransom note?
I’m in the phone book for god sake’s but I did call her when I hung up. She was all excited and then tried to make the jokes she makes that always fall flat. I gave her my info, and then she started asking me for Charlemagne’s phone number and I thought how strange. You guys just talked. So I said, well his number doesn’t show up on my caller ID (which it doesn’t) and I can only remember the first three numbers (which is also true). And she’s like, well, how am I suppose to call him to pick him up if I don’t know his number? I felt like saying, maybe the same way you did about 15 minutes ago. She finally just said she’d figure something out. right.
So Charlemagne seems to think socializing me with company at my house will make me more sociable. I was very nervous before they got here, but I did have a good time, once the tea-making thang was out of the way. It was actually very nice.
I also had somewhat of a social outing on Thursday. I had talked to my old co-worker “J” on Monday and asked him if he would go apartment hunting with me and he said yes, so I went to his house that morning and picked him up. He really wanted me to see his house evidently because he invited me in to look around, especially emphasizing all the artwork hanging around the house (the only decent one was a huge Mark Rothko hanging over a chair in the living room). He had one of our co-workers painting one of his rooms, so we chatted for a second and then I got to meet his Chow dog which was cute in a bizarre massive-head sort of way.
I had a vague plan of where I wanted to go, so we started hitting a few places. It was pretty much a big world full of “NO”. Why? Nobody wants to take Section Eight (a governmental plan that pays a portion of a low income person’s rent). It was so frustrating and that was the main reason I brought “J” along. I knew I was going to be getting rejection after rejection and I really needed some moral support and also “J” likes to talk alot and I figured that would be better than driving around alone and depressed. And I was right. Plus I think “J” got a kick out of going into these places like we were a couple. He has always had a little crush on me when we worked together and I think he enjoyed our afternoon together.
Finally the very last place we went was a rental agency in “The Nation” and we talked to this guy named Mark. He had a ranch style house divided into two apartments and said he would take Section Eight even though he wasn’t that familiar with it. We chatted for a long time. “J” was eating Fireball candies, one after another, out of a bowl on the counter. I’m not sure how anyone could eat so many without passing out. But it might have been because he was trying not to smoke while he was out with me, which I think, was admirable.
So anyways, we drove over and looked at the outside of the house. Its up near our local University and was a little ugly on the outside, but it was a house and it does have a yard and it is on a bus stop and I’d only be sharing it with one other person. I haven’t called the person back yet because we’ve had quite a bit of snow since Thursday and I’m still sick after nearly two weeks. My antibiotics don’t seem to be doing anything. But maybe I’ll make an appointment to see it on Monday. We’ll see.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty