2004-09-07 @ 12:43 a.m.
My sunburn is so bad today, that I feel like a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken...extra crispy. I told my friend last night in an e-mail that I look like a Mexican leprechaun. My shoulders are really hurting, especially where my bra strap is rubbing the burned part. I really don't think they will be healed in time for Married Guy's massage tomorrow. I guess he'll have to work on places other than my burned parts. Like my thighs, for instance. :-)
Hey, I'm trying to look on the bright side!
Anyways, I had intended to get up early today, but my fibro was so bad, that I fell back to sleep and dreamed about the guy in my art class, "K". Wow. How weird. I virtually never dream about people I know. In fact, I've only dreamed about Married Guy twice since I've known him. And I've dreamed about "A" about 4 times. Usually I'm arguing with him, but thatís par for the course.
But in my dream, I was sitting in a chair in a room and it was raining out. He came up behind me, placed his hands on my shoulders, leaned in really close, whispered something nice in my ear and that was all I remember. I do remember the feeling of closeness and the feeling of his beard intermingling with my hair and how it kind of got caught when he pulled away. And right after I woke up I actually remembered what he said. And whatever it was, it must have been really nice, since it was the first time I woke up happy since 1987.
Geeze, I hope it was "K". Maybe it was Married Guy. He has a beard too. And I've had my hair lightly caught in his beard during massages too. He'll lean down really close to my head as he runs his hands down the length of my body and I'll feel his breath on my face and neck. And then he'll start breathing very slowly and rhythmically and I'll be thinking...well, gee...is this part of what they teach you at massage school? This slow, almost labored breathing, really close to the client's face like we're about ready to get the freak on. And Iíll really be enjoying it (feeling a little warm) in a non-massage client (is it hot in here, or is it just me?) sort of way.
Yes, witty, its just you. delusional...and cute.
But I was feeling really warm today. It was a combo of the sunburn and my new obsessive need to do laundry at the local laundromat. I used to do my laundry like once every three weeks (since I live alone, wearing the same old ďLate Night with David LettermanĒ t-shirt for say a week, was ok), but recently Iíve gotten very OCD about having things clean. I guess its because I had a really nasty viral infection a year ago and then this recent case of strep for three weeks. Plus Iíve also been taking care of my motherís laundry.
Iím actually on the verge of asking strangers along the street if they need their laundry done, just because there is something strangely satisfying about putting something dirty in hot water and having it come out clean. I even did like 4 loads of laundry in one day at the Nanny Guyís house. When he asked me to do laundry on the fourth day (virtually the only non-sexual thing he said to me), I was like groovy! Sure!
So this morning I sprang my laundry offer on my mom with so little lead time, that she was unable to get ready quick enough to go with me (the whole point of course). I drove over and got hers and jammed everything into three washers. The place was unusually full.
I then headed over to the grocery store inbetween to return some recyclables to get some coinage. My mom had also given me the coupon for Michaelís 50% off Labor Day sale. I am down to the last 3-4 pages in my sketch book and even though I am particularly broke (more bounced checks unfortunately at the end of August -- due to my incredibly poor mathematical abilities), I knew that I had to get to Michaelís today, in order to use the coupon before it expired.
But then back to the laundromat. And this guy. Well, there was this guy you see. He was there with this little kid. And he had been scoping me out. Girls can just feel that. And I only put my stuff in the dryer next to his because the other 37 dryers were in use.
NOT BECAUSE IT WAS NEXT TO YOURS....ROMEO.
Crimany sakes. This balding guy, who looked like a squat drill sergeant (definitely not my type), kept eyeballing me, breathing near me, standing too close (boundaries, dearest). Naturally when I pulled my stuff out of the dryer in one armload, what do you think fell out on the ground right next to his feet?
Yeah, a pair of my purple bikini underwear. Fruck!
So I immediately sent out a donít-touch-the-underwear-on-the-floor-or-Iíll-beat-you-with-a-laundry-cart message telepathically. It seemed to work, because he didnít make any sudden moves or maybe its just because I kind of kicked them out of his reach and then somehow managed to pick them up with my free pinkie. See, Iím Aquarius and ambidextrous!
I then I put all of my stuff on one of those little formica folding shelves. And then some old geezer behind me, dumps all of his and Marthaís shit right on top of my clothes. I mean, right on top. He didnít even see me there.
See how well my Cloak of Invisibility works? Even my freshly laundered clothes were rendered invisible.
So naturally I didnít say anything. I just gingerly pulled my stuff out from under his. I think his elderly wife finally noticed the slight laundromat snafu and moved their stuff, albeit grudgingly, like it was my fault or something. So I had about 4 inches to fold my clothes on. Thanks Martha.
So here I am folding my stuff rather rapidly and I hear this ka-thunk noise. I look up and its the ROMEO/drill sergeant guy. It seems that he had planted himself and his elbows right on the washer directly in front of me and wanted to start chatting with the cute wittykitty. And well, what can I say? I was just about magically done with the folding. Funny how that worked out. Iím sure he felt like a dork if guys like that can feel that way.
Unfortunately my momís big thick comforter was still in the dryer next to his so I did have to return (ha, ha, jokes on you, aye witty?). And then he kept asking, ďIs it dry yet? Is it dry yet?Ē No snerkwad, Iím here, because Iím highly aroused by your sexually charged presence.
I finally just yanked the damn thing out of the dryer, without folding it and later explained to my mother that if it was a little wet, she would just have to live with it.
I explained about a guy there being a little obnoxious.
Her: Well, witty, thatís why youíll never meet anyone. You wonít talk to people.
Afterwards I went over to my favorite lake for a late afternoon walk. It was about 6:30. It was really beautiful out. A little windy perhaps, but the breeze felt good on my sunburn. I was determined to get in a two mile walk. So I was plodding along. I like to walk slowly. A toddler could probably outwalk me.
Suddenly I hear this really abrupt loud clattering noise. And then, I mean it literally came out of nowhere...this guy about 15 or 16, comes running up, full throttle, nearly crashes into me, jams his face about 4 inches from mine, yells at the top of his lungs, ďHow are you! This is so fucking hot!Ē (????) and then takes off.
I was like WTF!! I mean, it startled the hell out of me. And the kid just kept running along the path, accosting other people too. I donít know if he was on crack or happy or what, but fuck. Itís not nice to scare your elders.
So my dating pool continues to expand....the laundromat guy...the WTF guy in the park. Youíre right ďAĒ, there are so many men out there. I just have to decide which one is right for me.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty