2004-02-20 @ 4:26 p.m.
|I pity the fool who tries to compete with a bipolar's sheer random juggling ability, since I'm sitting here with about fifty things fighting to be first in this entry. And as usual, its a lot like a freakin' Seinfeld episode. Not much happened today, yet I'm still busting to write about 3000 words on absolutely nothing...well, except self pity, leaking fuel injectors, naked bodies, Adam Sandler's repeated use of the words walrus schlong in "Fifty First Dates", and a rather disappointing Married Guy hug, which indicates that our recent kiss-o-rama might have gotten to him. Whenever we have a close episode, he immediately backs off, and I feel rejected, and I know that I got to him somehow. And it feels crummy and it makes me wonder why life has to be so fucking hard?
Even my horoscope gave me a kick in the ass today:
Your last chance has apparently come and gone. You could curse the luck of the draw or play out this hand to see what happens. Even if your critics are right, take comfort in their logical flaws.
What the hell does that mean? Take comfort in their logical flaws? What, did Doctor Spock make a mistake? I guess the last chance coming and going is an easy one. Married Guy. It came and went last week. Today he had to tell me about a romantic getaway with wifey. Thanks. I really wanted the details on that. Yes. I. Did. Tell. Me. More. I'm. So. Interested.
Did I mentioned I started shivering so bad during my massage, that he had to throw a blanket over me? Not sure why. I just started shivering really bad. I guess my body was trying not to cry, so I just started shivering instead.
Of course I had just come from taking my car to the garage. Maybe I was shivering from that. Maybe I was shivering from when I put my key in the ignition and turned on my car and wondered if it was going to blow up.
My mom had somewhat wisely suggested that I leave my car door slightly ajar, so I could r*u*n if the car blew up. Do you think those suicide bombers over in the Middle East ever think about that when they pull into a crowded market place to do their deed?
Okay now, maybe I'll just open my car door just slightly, so I can jump to safety, if I change my mind. hee hee!
MOM! IF THE CAR EXPLODES, IT WON'T MATTER IF THE CAR DOOR IS OPEN!!
But it didn't. And I drove my car rather gingerly down to a garage that my case manager had suggested. And the guy looked at it and immediately said, your fuel injector is leaking...$250.
Fruck! I just spent almost $300 last month. $250 this month. My car is barely worth $300. I live on a little over $240 a month. Fruck. Maybe I can sell a kidney or something. I just thanked him for his time and then went home and cried into my tuna sandwich until it was time to go for my massage.
Married Guy was pleasant enough. I gave him the birthday newsletter I had put together and he seemed to like it ok. But I was pretty miserable and I didn't talk much, and as mentioned I had to listen to the romantic escapades of married life a'la mode. Just what I needed to hear at that precise moment. Yay! Thanks for keeping me in the loop, poopsie!
So after that I just decided to take my little Chevy time bomb and go to the movies. I am incredibly broke this month, but I knew I needed a comedy. A romantic comedy. And I like Adam Sandler, if he's being a romantic character, and he's being cast opposite Drew Barrymore ("A Wedding Singer" was my favorite movie of his).
Other than a few tasteless jokes about the sexuality of his co-worker and walrus penises, it was a pretty sweet movie. I'm not really sure why, but I kept getting vibes of my shrink from Adam Sandler. He doesn't exactly look like him. But he kinda reminds me of him a little. The dark hair. The dark eyes. The big toothy grin that'll get him out of anything. I never really noticed it before.
I'm sure if my shrink was going to be cast in a movie, he'd prefer to be cast by a young handsome 1960's Sean Connery or Johnny Depp. Not Adam Sandler. Right, "A"?
Let's see, who else would be cast in my movie. Married Guy? Robin Williams definitely. Zen Shrink? Hmmm. Tough one. Wilford Brimley? (You're laughing, aren't you "A"?) That really isn't accurate though. He's a lot slimmer. Maybe someone like Frank Langella.
Me? I really don't look like any actress. Once in my 20's somebody said I looked like Linda Ronstadt. NO! Not at all actually. That person must have been smoking crack. I'm a porcelain skinned Irish girl. Another time someone said I looked like Fergie, as in Princess Diana's Fergie. Yeek! Unfortunately they said it at a time when she was fat and homely, so I definitely took offense.
Fergie? Grumble, grumble.
I think if she was about 15 years older, Christina Ricci, would be a good choice for me. Not that she looks like me necessarily, but I definitely think she could play me. A bipolar wingnut artsy type, who is angry, funny, hurt, yet potentially sexy and has a bottomless capacity for love.
Yup, that's me and Christina Ricci could definitely play that. And she could definitely win the Oscar. And I definitely think I would look really awesome in that low cut Vera Wang gown when I attend the Oscars next year. Yeah, baby! So have HER people call MY people about the making of the wittykitty diaries into a movie...
"What? What's that? No one would possibly be interested in making this into a movie because there isn't enough sex in it? I could work on that. Really, I could! But what about all those incredibly hot masturbation scenes? What's that? If I added in Ray Romano, you might possibly green light the project? ..Um...do I have to???"
Pray for me, kids!
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty