2004-03-27 @ 10:02 a.m.
|Men....can't live with them, can't toss them out on the curb with the recyclables.
Gold stars this week for "A" for his understanding, good humor, and friendly, feel-good hug at the end of my session. Also one for Johnson, my art teacher who asked if I was ok when I was coughing up a storm during my art class. You guys are really looking out for me and I really appreciate it.
But rotted heads of cabbages for Married Guy, Zenshrink and Alf. Lets start with Married Guy.
What's up Married Guy? Cat got your e-mail tongue? What's happening? We were doing so incredibly well these last few months. Our communication has been stellar. Our vibes have been vibing. The massages have been over the moon, the last six month. But this last week. Was it me?
An hour massage, that was being paid for by the insurance company, got slashed to a half hour with no explanation. Did you even realize it was an hour?
I wasn't worried because I figured we'd make it up this week, until you informed me the insurance ones were over and it was back to barter. That was fine, but it was the way you said it. All cold and businesslike. And that was how the massage was too. All cold and business like.
What happened to all nice and friend-like? Are you mad at me? What are you mad about? Can you let me in on it? And when I mentioned it was the one year anniversary of my Dad's death...there was no response from you. Last year you bought me a half a dozen red roses, wrote a beautiful note, made a special dinner and had a touching tribute to my Dad who you didn't even know. This week nothing.
And there's nothing worse than silence. You're my only friend here in town. And I really can't bare the thought of losing you. Can we fix this?
Zenshrink. Well, there's not much to say about you, other then I just wish you would stay out of my view. Go play with your ladies up in your office and stop getting in my way.
Alf. Thanks for letting me borrow your car. I really didn't want to, but I'm really desperate for wheels, so against my better judgment, I let my mom talk me into it. She really likes you. She thinks you act like a little boy. She enjoys calling herself your mom. But you know what? What you did and said to me last night was not necessary.
It was hard getting into a strange car in a driving rain storm last night and not knowing where anything was. The driver's seat was so far away from the steering wheel that I couldn't reach the pedal and I couldn't feel any lever under the seat, so I knew I had to catch you and my mom before you drove away.
I wanted to just ASK you where the lever was, or how to adjust the seat, but you insisted that I sit in the seat. Why was that? I guess so you could drop your clever line....now what was it, Alf? Oh, yes...
"Gee Witty, I finally get to put my hand between your legs!"
Ha, ha, ha!
Good one Alf!
Ha, ha, ha.
Although in some cultures, that might possibly be considered sexual harassment you fucking dickhead. And yes, I did feel just a tad uncomfortable when you nearly buried your face in my crouch as you felt for the lever under the seat and yanked my seat forward rather violently.
Did you have fun, Alf?
Did you consider that our first date? Did you go home and write: Dear Diary, I got me some pussy tonight. And man oh man, was it hot!
This was only after an earlier conversation in the restaurant when you wwere talking about women with big tits.
So now I'm thinking that the young lad, has a somewhat, one-track mind, and despite, the playful sexual tone of my diary, I do not like discussing tits with a guy I barely know. Nor even men I know a lot. I also find that word offensive and derogatory to women.
So I'm wondering, how expensive is the loaning of this car truly going to be. Does Alf truly think he can call me now and say naughty things all the time? Jeuzus, he's such an oaf, and he doesn't even realize he's being offensive. He thinks he's being cute. His last girlfriend, the 62 year old, used to treat him like she was a school marm. "Now Alf, you're being a bad boy." And I think he actually got off on that. Unfortunately, I'm not into the School Boy/School Marm scenario.
Although I wouldn't have minded beating him about the head with a ruler last night, the freakin' idiot.
I mean, its nice having a car, but ya know...a bus full of gangstas, Goths and ballistic bus drivers is starting to look better and better. So we'll have to see how this plays out.
Anyone have any really lucky winning lottery numbers they can send me?
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty