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2005-03-23 @ 12:21 a.m.
amusing e-mails and a potential antidote for feng shui prozac

Today I got an e-mail which read:

Dear witty,
This letter is to inform you of a cash out option available for your home at 707 1/2 *** AVE. During the last 12 months, ******* homes have seen their values shoot through the roof. You pre-qualify for at least $50,000 cash out.
Your $50,000 option is available and can be exercised now. Let your equity in 707 1/2 **** AVE work for you. It will take only 45 seconds to answer a few brief questions and a representative will contact you within 24 hours to get the ball rolling.
Click here to have a representative contact you in regards to your cash out option.
Thank you and we look forward to working with you.
Sincerely, Stephanie Reed
Smarter Lending

Oh Stephanie. They say you work for Smarter Lending, but I'm really not so sure. Why? Because 707 1/2 **** Avenue was a mice infested ghetto apartment with broken windows I used to live in. I seriously doubt if you could get 50 cents out of that place, let alone $50,000. In the winter there was ice on all the windows, several of which were broken and/or painted shut. I never had any hot water. In the summer there were so many mice running around, that Guard Cat thought she had died and gone to kitty heaven. There were squirrels in the attic. (And no, it had nothing to do with my mental condition.) Kids from the high school next door used to do drugs in my doorway. I used to find used condoms on the floor of our garbage room. One day one of the maintenance guys calmly appeared at my door and said a pipe had broken over my storage area and that they needed me to remove my stuff. It was almost like can you remove your crap.....cuz its blocking our crappy old rusty pipe which is spewing 300 gallons of water per second. Forget about the fact that I lost most of my childhood memorabilia in the subsequent flood waters. It was one of the worst apartments I ever lived in.

So I just wrote "Stephanie" back...
Hey Stephanie:
I wouldn't give you 50 cents for 707 1/2 **** Avenue. It was a mice infested ghetto apartment with broken windows. I haven't lived there in almost 3 years. Gets your facts straight Steph. Maybe then you'll be able to close a deal and buy that new SUV you've been dreaming about.
Sincerely, witty


So the polyp they twisted out of me last week was benign. How kind of it, not to be cancerous. Must have been "A"s prayer to the Big Guy or just me dodging another bullet, until something truly horrible comes a boyfriend or a tax audit. I had been very stressed waiting to hear the news, yet when I heard it, it was all very matter of fact, like oh, no cancer, that's nice. Its funny how your brain plays tricks on you.

I've been so tired and depressed the last few days though. I'm still recovering from my sinus infection. Sunday night at 3:20 a.m. the damn fire alarm across the street went off. I had just gotten to sleep about an hour earlier and then....


Living across from a fire station....I can say, with absolutely no reservation, totally sucks, unless your house is on fire. Because other than that, you have to listen to the damn fire sirens going off 24/7, and it is so fucking loud, it could wake vampires at noon. It gets tiring listening to that thing night after night.

In the summer, its even worse. Try having an earthshaking squalling horn ripping into the very fabric of your latest Johnny Depp dream. I am a light sleeper. And then after the fire alarm, you have the cacophony of sirens from all the fire trucks screaming out of their garage about a minute and a half later. I've actually been on the phone, in my house, with all the windows shut and not been able to hear someone on the phone.

So, the last two nights, in the 3 a.m. hour, I have been woken up by the alarm. I was really exhausted when I went to work Monday, because not only did I get woken up, but also because I had had a Jack Nicholson type meltdown including yelling and screaming and swearing and foot stomping. It was very much like his tantrum in "Witches of Eastwick", except that I was naked and Guard Cat ran and hid. Yay me!

Had to be to work at 10. Slept in until 9:30. How long does it take me to get to work? About 23 minutes. Fortunately, I'm very low maintenance in the getting ready department, especially when I'm going to work. I'm only going to be working with a bunch of crazy street people. They don't care if my hair is brushed. In fact, if its not, I'm more like them and they like me better I think. Monday was the first day of my new group though. Wanted to look somewhat presentable. At least 4 minutes of getting ready presentable. Decided to be not dress slutty. Wore my good blue pants and a sweater which covered my ever present pop-up nipples. We had our weekly meeting. As usual it was like the scene in the movie "Awakenings". You know the one where everyone is in a vegetative state, except they're in an upright position. No body except me and "J" ever talk at our meetings, except for our boss. Our big fundraising cookbook idea is kind of on the back burner now. Why? Because the task, which had been assigned to me last know, since I'm an artist (huh?) ....can't be done on company time. I have to "volunteer" my time to do it, since its a fundraiser. Like hell I will. I don't even like my job. Why would I volunteer my time? I already volunteer my time for my art class. THAT I like. That I'll do. But not anything for work. My boss said she would try and see if she could find a way around that. She better because I sure ain't doing it for free. I don't even like cookbooks.

"J" and I finally started our new group Monday. We had 5-6 people including the big mouth woman who kept leaving messages on my phone. She wasn't nearly as bad as she was on the phone, but her boyfriend was a dork. The thing about crazy people is that they generally don't have any simple social skills. They just talk over the top of people. They don't wait their turn. They feel the need to tell you about the cat turds in their cat box while you're trying to teach them socialization skills. The boyfriend just kept yapping and yapping. And then when he heard my last name, he said "That's my family's name! Maybe we're related!" Not likely winky-brain. I'm not from here, nor am I related to Hannibal Lector's retarded cousin, so back off. The Dennie ("Boston Legal") Crain guy turned out to be an African American man, so he definitely wasn't William Shatner.

All in all, it wasn't much fun. I didn't even have any fun teasing "J" like I usually do. He was very serious during the group and kept to a very strict agenda. Oh. Okay. So next week we'll be learning about housekeeping. Oh goodie! Can barely wait for Hannibal Lectard's view on the narrow cave he's carved out of the 33,000 boxes of cereal he has in his apartment.

I was surprised too, that after group, "J" didn't even talk to me. We usually talk quite a bit. All he asked me to do was look through the material for next week and pick out what I think is important. We're supposed to have two weeks set aside for housekeeping skills. I can't imagine finding enough material to fill two weeks, unless we call Bree, the red-headed Desperate Housewife (Marcia Cross) and ask for some advice. Oy! And I thought this class was going to be fun!

When I got home, I laid down on my bed at 2:45 p.m. with my coat and shoes still on and woke up at 7:30 p.m. in total darkness. I was initially confused where or when it was. For a minute I thought I had slept through "A"s Tuesday morning appointment when I first woke up. And then when I went out into the living room, the front door was wide open. I must have just stumbled in, fallen into bed and zonked out. I guess having two nights in a row, where I was woken up at 3 a.m. by fire alarms, must have affected my need for sleep.

Anyhoo, got to see the ever-effervescent "A" this morning. He finally got his office painted. He's been talking about it for a while. Last week he had redecorated his reception area. I liked it. It was very homey with some new Tiffany style lamps instead of the mundane florescent lights. "A" is a most unusual individual though. Since I've been seeing him over the last 9 years, he has painted, redecorated, rearranged his furniture probably about 20-25 times. He's had about 4-5 different sets of furniture. He has had white walls. Green walls. Blue walls. Deep red walls. Wallpaper borders with moons and stars. He has had about 5-6 different rugs. I've lost track of how many different desks and computers he's had. He's had various artwork including Frida Kahlo (yay!) and Kandinski (yay!). There's been months where I have gone in and he has rearranged his furniture 2-3 times in a single month. Desk by the window. Then the next week the desk is against the back wall. And then the couch is under the window and then suddenly its in the middle of the floor next to the table. And his chair is always fluctuating too. We call it the Big Kahuna chair. "A" is very hyper though. He walks around a lot. He's up behind his desk. He's hanging with one leg over his chair. Sometimes he sits on the coffee table right in front of you, if he needs to make a point. He's amazing to watch. I've never quite figured out the constant furniture moving and painting of the room thing, other than maybe that's how he copes with all the crap he has to listen to everyday. I find it fascinating though. I mean, I moved a small rattan table into my bedroom and put some CDs on it this summer and it was like a momentous occasion. I moved a piece of furniture. Woo!

The latest version of A's Office Extraordinaire is one of my least favorite though. I love the reception area, but he decided to paint his office in this really bland mottled stucco color paint, that is so UN-him. His last color scheme had been so pretty and striking. It always reminded me of a James Bond apartment with its bold red walls and white furniture. But now the white furniture is out. And the red walls are now about the color of smashed rice crispies. And his new couch is oatmeal color. Yarg. Talk about Feng Shui Prozac. "A" how could you?

He did mention his offer to commission me to paint him a large abstract painting once again, but I just can't tell if he's serious. He thought I told him I wouldn't do one, and in reality, I just said I was nervous about doing it, because I want it to be fabulous, but it is me painting after all and I'm not exactly Jackson Pollock or Wassily Kandinski. I don't want to pour my heart into something and then have him not like it. And plus I feel funny about getting paid to paint something. I just had a painting rejected from that local art show and am feeling REALLY bummed about it. I thought it was very striking, but evidently, it didn't fill the bill for a sedate art show with paintings of barns and close ups of zinnias. So I don't know what to do. And I really need the money too. Grrr!

Anyways, I will be starting my new painting class on Thursday. I'm totally psyched. I've never had painting lessons before. I figure they'll probably be having us painting a bowl of fruit or something. Maybe I'll learn how to do more traditional stuff and be more successful. Ha! Or maybe not. I'll probably try and paint eyeballs and antenna on the oranges. Or maybe boobs.


Oh gee look. My horoscope for Tuesday just arrived. And look when it arrived...eight minutes into Wednesday. Bravo. Once again, a day that never was....
Subj: daily horoscope
Date: 3/23/05 12:08:20 AM Eastern Standard Time
To: ***
Greetings witty
Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, March 22:
Okay, now here's an escalation of the action -- which is what you've been wanting more than anything. Don't step on any toes getting to where you want to be, but don't be shy, either

Now if I get amnesia, I'll know what I was supposed to have done yesterday.


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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty