2005-04-08 @ 12:00 a.m.
Well, in the last 24 hours or so, I’ve ridden in a car with a man. I’ve had perhaps a veiled offer to have my toes sucked, which was preceded by the phrase, “Your toes are really sexy in those sandals. I hope that’s okay that I said that.” I’ve driven my car down a steep hill with a broken brake line and lived to tell about it. I had a lesbian wink at me on a bus. I had someone, besides my mother take me out to dinner and got to eat my very favorite kind of food -- Mexican -- which I never get to eat, because she doesn’t eat Mexican. I had someone tell me at work that I have excellent verbal communication skills (riotous laughter). I took my new client to the zoo and no animals were injured. I applied for a P/T job at the yuppie grocery store. I had a massive orgasm at 2:21 a.m. (look ma! No hands). And I’m doing all this without the benefit of medication.Well, I’m on medication, but its called Life. And I think it all started with a red dot.
A red dot you say? Yeah, on Tuesday after I got home from my appointment with the ever adorable “A”, I went over to the Day Old Bakery a block up from my house. I really needed a sugary snacky. Well, not really, but the oompa loompa part of my brain said I did, so I stopped in and got one as well as a loaf of Oatnut bread. When I stepped up to the counter, the lady rung it up and then turned to me and said, “Free of charge.” And I said, “What?” And she said, “Free of charge. You don’t have to pay for your order, because you have a red dot.” And I’m like “Whee! A red dot. (huh?) Oh yay, a red dot. Yay! Its my lucky day, yay, maybe I should go buy some lottery tickets!” Yeah, right witty. Just like the last 359 losing ones you bought out of that god forsaken machine down at the yuppie grocery store.
But I did walk out with a free loaf of Oatnut bread and a package of chocolate cupcakes. Yay!
And of course, I also felt better, because I talked to “A” about the whole group thing, and other than raising the point that I always think I’m blameless in everything (But I am!! Ok. Only in about 1 out of every 290 things), he agreed that parting ways was a good idea. I also gave him his birthday present before he left for vacation. I didn’t do it during my session, because I always feel kind of embarrassed for some reason. I had found this book about his favorite artist several months ago at a local used book store and amazingly didn’t lose it during that time, in my incredibly underfunded but endlessly fascinating teeny weeny apartment clutter experiment.
Wednesday I had to meet with my new client. I had decided since it was such a stunning Spring day out, that we would go to the zoo. I love going to the zoo. And here I had free zoo passes and I was getting paid to do it. What could be better? So I picked her up at this mental health facility and she pretty much never stopped talking until two hours later when I dropped her off.
What a difference from my other client. I could never get more than a “yes” or “no” out of her. The continuous chattering though, was a little annoying, because, as with many mentally ill people. This girl told me about every last physical ailment she’s ever had (shades of my mother) and then all the wrongs that had been done to her (shades of my drama queen “friends” in group) and everytime I tried to jump in to say something, or to provide positive feedback which is part of my job, she just talked over the top of me. True, I am the person who is in charge here, since its my job, but personally, I am just sick of not having anyone to interact with (could you be in the wrong job perhaps, witty? Me nodding my head). I really don’t think its too selfish to expect a person who you are just meeting to interject a tidbit here and there. I was trying to find a common interest so that maybe we could talk like two adults, but alas she wouldn’t let me. So I just had to sneak in a few humorous asides to all my buddies down at the zoo, especially the lemurs, which are my favorite animals on the planet except for Guardcat.
I then went home, took a quick shower and headed for dinner with my friend from group. As I was driving down the one steep hill which terrifies me all winter long because of its sharp angle, I stomped down on my brake pedal and noticed, rather alarmingly, that nothing happened. In fact it went all the way down to the floor with no resistance whatsoever. Oh shit. And thats when I noticed that the Brake Warning Light was lit up like Dean Martin on Free Drink Night down at the Bada Bing Lounge. Something you don’t exactly want to see when you’re going down one of the steepest hills in town without brakes.
See witty, the red dot thing...it threw you off...you thought things were going to go for the better. See!
I did manage to get the car to a engine shop at the bottom of the hill. A woman came out and checked my brake fluid and said it was all right. I did look at her nervously and say, “But can I drive it.” And she said, “Sure you can. You just won’t be able to stop on a dime.”*
So I took her word for it, since I was running late for my dinner date. Fortunately there weren’t many more hills between there and the Mexican restaurant, so I took it slowly, you know, in case I had to stop, say on a quarter. Heh, heh, get it? Quarter...slightly more than a dime. Oh never mind. Dinner was good. This place wasn’t bad for someplace that wasn’t in California. Got things settled with my friend about group. Told her I wasn’t coming back. She seemed okay with it. Since we finished up so early we took a nice walk around the neighborhood. It was pleasant.
When I got to the Center, I was still too early to go in, so I sat in my car for about 10 minutes. Finally at 6:40 or so, I headed in and as I was walking up the stairs, this giant flash of human, tore past me at about 100 mph on the staircase. I couldn’t even tell who or what it was. (Guardcat?). When I got upstairs, I realized it was Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy, and he was apologizing to our Fearless Art Leader for being late. Being late? He (we) weren’t supposed to host together until NEXT week. The SECOND Wednesday of the month. But evidently it got changed and nobody told me. I heard Charlemagne didn’t want to host next week when a naked GUY will be modeling so he showed up a week early. Grrr. Felt bad about being late for my hosting duties, but hey...I didn’t get the memo.
But really, there is nothing funnier than watching Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy at hyperspeed. He really gives me a run for my money in the neurotic department. I was helping set things up and suddenly he screams like a little girl and says, “AHHHH. I forgot MY music. I have to run home and get it!!!” And I’m like, don’t you dare leave me here alone. Please don’t leave. I’m really going to be freaked out if you leave.” And he told me he only lived two doors away. And I said if he wasn’t back in 5 minutes he was going to be in BIG trouble. So he tears out the door, like a maniac. And people are starting to come in. And handing me money. Oh dear. Me handing money. I have no mathematical skills whatsoever. I have art-brain. So I was struggling, making change. The model was talking to me. She was the older, chubby Eye-talian lady who we just had about four weeks ago. And suddenly Ace, our androgynous model shows up. So then there’s two models standing there. Me making change. No music. No toilet paper in the bathroom. No Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy. I’m still freaked out about driving down one of the steepest hills in town without brakes and then I had to laugh... meh...just a usual day for wittykitty.
We sent Ace home and kept the Eye-talian gramma model. She had been telling me that they had a free drawing session at the local university and naturally the word FREE made my ears tingle, so I was getting the info from her about it. Unfortunately, she thought I was coming to it, solely, because I was so incredibly enraptured with the prospect of drawing her two nights in a row. Ha! Look at what I ended up drawing last night for our hour pose of Mrs. Ravioli...
Yeah, I was really excited she was there. Can you tell?
I did feel a little guilty. Because after after our class was done she kind of waddled over, smiling, to see what astounding work of art I had rendered from her loins, and I showed her my drawing of the lighting apparatus. Whoops. She kind of stopped smiling and nodded her head slightly like oh...its not me.
After everybody left, I had some fun with Charlemagne and “L” the Hippie Lady. We all have really good senses of humor. I had told everyone about my car problem and then I offered Charlemagne a really “fun” car ride home. I said we’d probably be going really, really, really fast, especially if there was a hill. And he got all cry-babyish, like wahhh, don’t make me, witty, pleeeeaaase!!
Then him and “L” got into a huge mock argument. He accused her of kidnapping Girl Scouts so she could steal their cookies. And he backed up his accusation by saying he once opened a closet in her house and saw about 3000 boxes of Thin Mints and was convinced that there were Girl Scouts buried in the back yard. She countered with that she didn’t kidnap them, but she did enjoy showering with them.
And I think that was about the time that Charlemagne looked down and noticed I was wearing sandals. He said he thought my feet were sexy in my sandals and that he hoped that it was okay that he said that. I said sure. Who doesn’t want to hear they have sexy tootsies? And then he said that some guys are really into feet and like to massage them, to which I immediately replied “I love that!!” (I always had to (ahem) REMIND Married Guy to massage my feet during my massages, because he didn’t think foot massage was all that important. In fact, unless I asked him, he would just skip over them. Can you imagine? And I’m like a total foot massage slut. So then Charlemagne kind of grinned at me and said, “Well, there are some men who really like shrimping”. And I was like “shrimping...what’s that?” He said, that’s when men suck on your toes. I have no idea what I said next, because I was suddenly in this orgasmic toe sucking orgy with Charlemagne’s warm and inviting mouth rhythmically sucking my right large toe to The Beatle's "I've Got a Ticket to Ride"....
Of course, then again, I can’t imagine him shutting the fuck up for more than like 1.3 seconds. But those 1.3 seconds....were....awesome. (sigh).
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty