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2005-02-12 @ 1:19 a.m.
the last day of 46ness

So today, on my final day of 46ness (tomorrow is my 47th birthday, as if you needed to be reminded, since Iíve been such a total birthday slut, that Iíve been dropping hints for weeks now. Did everyone get my e-mail reminders? OK. Good.), I was just looking back over the last year. It was its usual roller coaster ride. Of course, 5 minutes with a bipolar is more a roller coaster ride than most can handle.

Of course the big event, at least in my eyes, was the crashing and burning of my relationship with Married Guy. And since Iíve gone over it, ad naseum, in my diary, I wonít subject you to too much more whine and cheese other than: Itís over. It hurt. It still hurts. Ouch. No really. I need a massage, but my masseuse wasnít man enough to admit his feelings, the freakiní coward. And rather ironically, it was two years ago tomorrow that he hand delivered a naughty birthday card to me with ďI love youĒ written on it. Guess he was having a psychotic break that day. Or his evil non-married twin wrote it. Or something equally ridiculous.

This year was also the year of my extremely nervous re-entry into the world of employment. I kinda sorta had a pseudo job in July. It involved a guy taking off their clothes in front of me. Oh wait, that wasnít exactly what was on the job description since I was working as a nanny. And while Iím generally pretty cool about seeing nekked people because I see them every week in my art class, seeing Dad strip down to his penis in the laundry room while I was cooking mac and cheese for the kids, was a whole different story. I quit.

I then got a less naked job in November in which I work with mentally ill people. I mean, I think I might have possibly been working with one in July too, but at least now I know Iím working with them and can deal with it accordingly. Iím not in love with this job though. It hasnít exactly piqued my interest in any kind of spectacular way and I feel badly about that. But its a non-stressful job which is virtually impossible to get fired from. That is unless they find me writing about my clients in my díland diary, so shhhhhh!

On the art front, my life has been pretty darn fun. I went to my nude drawing class pretty much every week for the last year. And for about four months during the spring and summer I also found myself on intimate terms with a paint brush down at the Crazy Crazy Place. And while there, I lucked out by selling my very first abstract painting. It had to be a fluke. It had to be. I still canít fathom the fact that a painting I did, in a mere hour, was sold for $75 and is hanging in somebodyís home or office. What are you? Freaks? Did you need something for target practice? What:??

My art class, other than Married Guy, was really my only social life. It was kind of like know, a place where everyone knows your name. It was a place that made me feel like I was part of something. I felt like one of the cool kids. I WAS one of the cool kids. How cool is that? I had artwork hanging in two art galleries this year. I had artwork printed in a book that just came out. And people at work even kind of suspiciously kindly refer to me as an artist. Ha! Can you imagine?

And to think a mere year ago, I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for my next massage appointment with Married Guy. Because that used to be all I did before I discovered art....was wait for my massages with Married Guy and wait for my appointments with ďAĒ. At least now Iíve added a little variety in there. Oh wait, its more than variety, its something that makes me happy. Ahhh! Big difference.

So on my final day of 46ness I woke up feeling wet. Wet, you say? I mean, Down there. Can you imagine? Do girls have wet dreams? I was rather bamboozled by it all, wondering what it meant. But I was so horny when I woke up this morning that even though Iím not usually a morning masterdebater, I went at it like 4 times between 8-11:30. heh. And poor Guard Cat. She was skulking around like she usually does, like sheís on some covert operation, and when she jumped up on the bed, she encountered my dildo and sprang straight up in the air and then flipped half ass over backwards off the bed and went tearing off into the living room. Poor kitty. Yes, I think purple rubber vibrating penises are scary too, honey.

After Love Connection X4, I headed down to my office to see my case mgr. She helped me get some paperwork done for Medicaid and Foodstamps, which was due today in one case and three months ago in another case. Thatís why I have a case mgr. Because I let things get away from me sometimes. Okay, Iím totally right brained. All I think about is art, music and sex. And sometimes Johnny Depp.

She also helped me sign up for yet another art class which will be starting at the end of March. Its only 4 weeks long but it will be teaching me the basics of painting, because even though Iím an artist who has sold a painting, I know absolutely nothing about painting. Nothing. Other than acrylic paint dries faster than oils. So, Iím very excited about that. Its being taught up at the junior college where I took courses 8 years ago to become a graphic artist on the computer. Yay!

After that, since it was a beautiful sunny day and the roads were clear of snow, I headed out to the YMCA. I figured since I was going to be seeing a massage therapist tomorrow, I might as well, exercise the hell out of my body, burn lots of calories and be sore, so that the massage therapist would have something to do. When I used to see Married Guy for massages, he would be massaging me and dig his thumbs deep into my calf muscles, making me flinch in pain and I would say, ďYouíre hurting meĒ and he would say, ďGood. Mission accomplishedĒ. Oh, how prophetic, huh?

The gym locker room was completely empty when I arrived to change my clothes. As in empty. And then as soon as I was standing there only in my black panties and lacy black underwire bra (yeah, I was still feeling saucy, so I was wearing the naughty undergarments today), some woman had to come in and get dressed right next to me. Yarg. I did hit the treadmills for my usual half hour, and the place today was all men, which was unusual. But as usual they werenít looking at me (although if they had known about the naughty underwear thing, things would.have.been.different). Unfortunately though, I was really tired today. Iíve been trying to kick my addiction to sleep medication Ambien. On the TV commercias advertising it, they cautiously tell you not to take if for more than 7-10 days, without your doctorís knowledge. Me? Iíve been taking it for 4 years. I basically cannot sleep without it. And last night was my first night without. I only slept for about 4 hours total. But I powered through my half hour on the treadmill, even though my calf muscles were screaming in pain. I had to. There is a huge erasable bulletin board up in front of the exercise equipment which said: ďSoreness is Good.Ē

Oh, ok.

Of course, they had erased who that was attributed to. Marquis de Sade.

After that it was off to the yuppie grocery store. And for the first time ever, even though I looked like shit on a stick, due to extreme tiredness, I caught a guy scoping me out in the health food department. He was kinda cute. And I scoped him out right back. As in real eye contact, hey baby baby. ďAĒ would have been proud of me. And then I went and got some chocolate non-perils in the bulk foods, and then I swung back through the health food section once again and he was still there and we exchanged meaningful glances over a bin of granola but then I disappeared in the hair dye department. Iím getting gray you know. As in old. As in, its now February 12th. Iím officially old 47. Oh well, if you want to stop by and have some birthday cake and get naked me, Iíd love to have you. No really. Iím looking for date, in case you havenít noticed. Just be sure youíre not wearing a wedding band, OK? Good.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty