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2004-02-04 @ 11:02 p.m.
Crazy Boy asks Witty Kitty for a Date - Yay!

So my Evil Twin Unwitty Kitty, who snuck in and wrote that rambling wreck of an entry yesterday, has been taken down with a tranquilizer gun, subdued and given a cookie. She’s feeling better now. Thanks for those who wrote. She really appreciated it.

I think the thing that set her off was a combination of her shrink appointment (she sees the same shrink as me...hi “A”), which was rough, because there was not one but two grumpy people in the room, and we’re not naming names....Right “A”? (He did apologize for being cranky at the end of our session. He wasn’t feeling well and I guess Unwitty was being a pain in the ass, by just saying lackadaisical yeses and no’s to all of “A”’s awesome suggestions. And then they got into their usual weekly tangle about Married Guy.

Married Guy had done something kind of unusual this week. He wrote me an e-mail and asked if I wanted to go to Church with him and the kids. I was like “Church?” Is this a secret code word for something?

“Ya mean Church, as in praying”?

Of course, “A” had had two weeks to warm up for this latest round. And even when sick, he is formidable in the “Getting under my skin” department. Or at least that’s what Unwitty told me. She said she did tell him he was annoying at one point, and she sure didn’t want to get what ever he had (the illness that was making him grumpy...grumpycitis), but it ended well enough.

But then I had to go back to reality.

Probably the most irritating thing over the last five days has been that my phone line has been raspy and hissing and making odd humming noises like it was getting signals from the Mother Ship. I always let things go until I am at the breaking point. Besides the hissing, it also kept knocking me offline of my computer. I usually write my entry online, but it was so bad, (as in knocking me off every 2-3 minutes), that I finally entered the Grand-Opera Mode and started wigging out.

And that was BEFORE I talked to the phone company. When I gave them the description of the problem, VERIZON said they could come and repair it, but that if it was something inside the house I would be charged $91 for the first half hour of telephone company labor. I flipped out.

I did the crying thing (MY ULTRA SECRET SUPER WEAPON)...The I’m poor, that’s almost as much as I live on per month Thing. Blah, blah, blah.

The tape of this momentous conversation, incidentally, will be submitted to the "Drama Queen Awards" in consideration for the most overwrought performance by someone born in February.

The woman said not to worry about it and that she would try to expedite the order, since I was disabled. This was Saturday. The repairman was supposed to be here Tuesday, but now it is late Wednesday and still no VERIZON. Glad their scheduling department isn’t in charge of sending fire trucks to burning houses.

So after the phone company, I called the insurance company about my car. I have been getting inundated with paperwork from State Farm, and its all very confusing to me. So I talked to this insurance woman down near NYC and she started asking me all these questions which had answers that didn’t sound too convincing.

Like did you see a doctor? No. But I’m getting a prescription for massage therapy.

She didn’t like that all. So why didn’t you see your doctor?

My doctor doesn’t live on a busline and I was having a hard time driving with a sore neck.

But how do you know you have whiplash?

Because my massage therapist clued me in.

But he’s not a doctor. How are you getting a prescription without seeing a doctor?

Because my massage therapist, who is state licensed, told me I have whiplash and he passed on the info to my doctor.

But how could you see him and NOT YOUR DOCTOR?

I was getting very exasperated by then. Because he’s on a busline and I was able to get to his freakin’ office.

Have you seen him before? Yes.

Why? Have you had other “accidents”? Didn’t much like the tone of that one. Ya mean, like talking to an insurance company bitch like you?

I told her that he had treated me for fibromylgia. “...but he’s not a doctor, right?”.

Are you deaf, wench?? I want to PLAY DOCTOR WITH HIM...but no he’s not a doctor.

The whole conversation made me feel really guilty, because I felt like she was treating me like I was running some kind of scam. I had to keep reminding myself that...YES, I was a victim of a car accident and YES, my neck is still painful, and YES, the person who hit me had no insurance, so my car will remain unrepaired, since I don’t have collision. Fruck. I’m a newbie for car accidents. I don’t know how all this stuff works. I didn’t even have a police report.

So I tried to remedy that by calling the Mall Security where it happened. I figured they would have to have something on say, a Mall Incident Report. So I called them and it seems that I got the nasty insurance bitch’s brother on the phone (as in second asshole in a row) He said, NO, you can’t get a copy of the Mall Incident Report. NO, it will do nothing for your insurance report. NO...NO...NO. And then he said, “One moment, please”, put me on hold for 3-4 minutes and then it clicked off to a dial tone.


Why is everybody making my life so damn hard? I felt the worse about the conversation with the insurance woman. I thought of all that has happened, getting a prescription for massages was the only beacon of hope in an otherwise stormy scenario. My insurance premium is the biggest bill I pay each month. And its for a piece of shit car which is barely worth 2 month’s worth of payments. And my neck is truly injured.

So then I called my mother. (good idea witty!!) and I managed to pick a fight with her. Everytime I call her now, no matter what time day or night, she’s always on the phone (she has call waiting). But that isn’t even the annoying part. When I call her, she always says the same thing, “I’ve been sitting here all day with no phone calls and now I have two at the same time.”

Well, I think I heard that quaint phrase one too many times for a single lifetime yesterday, so I told her not to ever say that again, because it was really annoying. She took offense, of course, that I wasn't fawning over her every word, and was rather put out. Byeeeee~

So then I went to Diaryland and just started spewing. I guess because that’s what diaries are for. This is just a slightly different medium.

So I got asked out to coffee by a guy today. Unfortunately, it was down at my art-art with the crazy crazies place. And it was the same guy, who last week asked me if I rode ponies. Just prior to asking, he had been telling us about his first girlfriend who went to Clown College. And about how the mental hospital had taken away his baby pacifier. (He has infantism...acting out like a baby, I guess). And then he was talking about his multiple personalities and how he saved a kitty under the highway. (possibly where he lives?) And then he popped the question!!

“Will you go to coffee with me?”

See “A” it was only a matter of time, before I was able to work my charm ON SOMEBODY WITH A PENIS...of course, who invited me....Which personality? The debonair Fred Astaire personality? The Bette Midler in “Beaches” personality? The drug addled axe murderer, who will only have sex in a hammock over an alligator pit personality? Hmmm.

Sadly, I had the less than glamorous task of turning somebody down for a “date”. Who’d thunk, right? The dateless wonder. Sorry “A”....I know...getting some practice would have been nice, but I don’t think I would want to see this guy partake in caffeine.

And today is actually My New Double Art Day. Art with the Crazies at 1:30 and then Nude Figure Drawing at 7. Art Book Guy said hi. He has to be gay. He was wearing Eddie Bauer jeans and a red flannel shirt. Doesn’t that sound gay? I don’t know. I’ll have to consult with my panel of experts.

Class was pretty uneventful. The model was a young Indian woman who was very agile and athletic. She did some poses I’ve never seen before. Her boyfriend was there shooting pictures of her posing nude.

I got there late as usual and got a really crummy seat (behind the model). But for one 20 minute pose she turned directly toward me, legs asunder and I pretty much got a full view of vagina for 20 minutes. It was like HELLO WITTY, HERE’S MY VAGINA. I was a little uncomfortable. Models don’t usually do that. Maybe she wanted to go for coffee.

Maybe I just need some hormone replacement therapy.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty