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2005-04-18 @ 7:52 p.m.
still waiting for one of my horoscopes to come true...

Here is your horoscope for Monday, April 18:
ďA fiery person -- someone you've been waiting on for what seems like decades -- is about to cross your path, finally, under highly unusual conditions. Or you might just say this was your lucky day. Either one works.Ē

Hmmmm. Ok. I need to figure out what this horoscope is trying to tell me. A fiery person. Does that mean he's actually on fire? Or does that mean that when he comes in contact with me heíll spontaneously combust, like the drummer in "This is Spinal Tap"?

Or is he a fireman? I do live next door to a fire station. I can just lean off my porch and see all the guys overs there shining their equipment. Who knows, maybe I could call 911. My love life is in need of resuscitation and it did say we would meet under highly unusual conditions. Because lets face it, any configuration which would allow me to meet someone with a pulse a man who would be interested in a neurotic art girl would be a highly unusual condition.

I'm sure I could come up with some other highly unusual condition. My uncle by marriage met his second wife when he plowed into her car. We always said he did it on purpose. Of course, if I plowed into someone's search of love, I would realize a split second before impact that the check for my car insurance was sitting on the front seat of the car and I was uninsured. But that would really be of little importance since centrifugal force had already taken over, hurtling my car directly into HIS (my soulmate's) Mercedes SUV, bursting into flames, causing him to jump out -- on fire -- screaming in exquisite pain, yet finding a moment to look over towards me as he's trying to douse the flames with his gold plated bottle of Evian water saying "We would have been great together...Owwwwwwww, I'm on fire...." and then die a terrible death at my feet. Iím wearing cute sandals from Payless Shoe Source, by the way. Just thought Iíd add that detail, since I know that some of you might be interested in the footwear angle.

So I think thats what my horoscope was trying to say...

I've been a major walking maniac these last four days though. Four days at the glacier lake -- 3 miles a pop, total 12 miles. I must be rehearsing for the next time my car craps out. Pretty soon, I'll be fit enough to walk to my appointment at "A"s office 6 miles away with nary a sore muscle. Next stop.....CANADA!!!

I do love my walking though. I haven't been to the YMCA in about 3 weeks. I probably won't be renewing my membership until next winter. Because really the only thing that brought me there was their treadmills and whirlpool. And ok, the men in shorts. I admit it. You know with the sweat glistening off their glutes thingie...heh, heh, I mean abs. Men in shorts. Itís an obsession, you see. I salivate everytime I see a runner run by. Iím not allowed in Massachusetts during the Boston Marathon for just that reason. I just love legs. Iím a legs girl. What can I say?

Of course, I have been walking in extremely adverse conditions recently. You know...the No Rain in 12 Days Thing. YOWZA!!! Its like a world's record here. The local nuns are praying novenas and chanting all over the county. It's pretty serious here.

The lake was nice today though. We had our warmest temperatures of the season yet, 72 degrees and there were a lot of people out. I went off the main trail and headed up to the less populated lake. I somehow managed to get behind this filipino woman who had two boys about 9 and a girl about 3. One of the boys was obviously a guest of the filipino family since he was white. He was a major little chatterbox who said the word "Dude" probably about 317 times in the15 minutes I was following them. Everything was Dude this and Dude that, and Duuuude, I've really got a cramp in my leg. Then they must have started talking about food, because he said, "Dude, if my dad would let me, I'd fill my pool full of chocolate pudding." The other kid said something I couldn't hear and then the kid changed his mind, "Ya know...I think I'd rather have a pool full of cereal. I mean, dude, wouldn't that be totally cool if you could just go get a spoon and eat cereal out of your pool?"

See, then and only then is when I miss having kids.

I did have a mini-pity party half way around the lake though. I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself the last couple of days. I had talked to my mom before I left on my walk this morning and told her how incredibly lonely I felt. This week had been weird at work. I had worked 6 days in a row and I had woken up this morning with a start*, thinking I had overslept for yet another work day. Half this week I didn't even know what day of the week it was. I remember on Tuesday, I was convinced it was Friday. I think this was because "A" is on vacation and I usually bookmark my week with his two appointments. 10:45 on Tuesday and 9 a.m. Thursday for group. So when they weren't there to go to, I had no frame of reference of where I was supposed to be. I think it was like alzshrinkheimerís.

*Part of my startling awakening this morning, really had to do with some unnaturally loud rock music. In some of my other apartments that wouldnít have been unusual, but where I live now, is in a tiny in-law unit behind a house and next to a medical building. I laid in bed for quite a while being annoyed, but I finally got some clothes on (you just canít be very commanding when youíre naked) and walked outside where the music was really loud. It was coming from the medical building next door. Some of the windows were open. I noticed that the back door on the second floor which overlooks my yard was open, so I climbed the stairs and went in.

It was kind of weird overlooking my house below. Gee, I wonder if they could see me doing my naked snow angel last February. Yes. Probably witty. The first room I wandered through was a lab where there were dental plates and teeth all over. That was kind of weird. Stray teeth all over the counter. Kinda looked like Mike Tysonís playroom.

Somewhere in the offices I could hear a vacuum, and that was when I started yelling, ďHey that music is kinda loud.Ē I couldnít be heard of course, because, well, the music was at about 4000 decibals. But suddenly I saw a woman back up in a parallel hallway with a vacuum cleaner and nearly jump out of her skin when she saw me standing there. ha! Yeah, I have that affect on a lot of people when they see me without makeup. She yelled to me, asking me who I was, and I signalled with my hand to lower the music. And she said ďWhat?Ē I yelled that I lived next door and I was trying to sleep. So she finally turned down the music, but asked me to leave immediately...please.

Iíve been having that affect on a lot of people it seems. I went to pick up my Quiet Girl client on Wednesday. Sheís been AWOL for almost a month. Screening her calls. Not returning my calls. Generally when somebody does that, I pretty much feel like they just donít want to see my incredibly cute face anymore, so sod off. But unfortunately this is work and I can't do that, so I talked to my boss and she said that some people are just like that. They kind of fade themselves out.

But then suddenly she called me last Friday. I called her back Monday and we made plans to meet Wednesday. So I drove to pick her up. It was a beautiful Spring day. I was going to take her to lunch and a walk. But when I got there, I called her from my car, since going into her house scares me (she has druggy types hanging out around her kids, which I think sucks, but its not my job to do anything unless they are in imminent danger, which also frustrates me). She didnít answer. She had her room mate answer and say that she had an unexpected appointment. Yeah, right. So I just drove away. Great. Fine. Whatever.

And then when I went home, I had a rejection letter from the yuppie grocery store I had applied at last week, waiting for me. I so wanted to work there. Its not that I donít have bigger aspirations like being the art director for the Village Voice or something, because I do. But I really have had to start out slow and my current job had been my first step back into regular employment. Unfortunately, I hate it. It has so many frustrating elements in it, which are really starting to fry my nerves (see above). So I thought it would be good to be able to work at the happenest place in town (at least in terms of grocery stores). Its where all the cool people shop and lots of singles go there and lots of rich people go there, and I just thought my chances of meeting someone would rise exponentially with the amount of exposure I would get with those type people. Because I know at my current job, I donít meet anyone except poverty stricken mentally ill people. And thatís not exactly the gene pool I want to dip my toe into. The yuppie grocery store also seemed like an easy, low stress place where I could work and just be left alone. As in no whiners. I had even been doing visualization exercises every time I walked in there. I would walk through the front door and act like I was going to work and it had felt very comfortable, which I thought was a good sign. So I was very disappointed getting the rejection letter. I thought ďhey, you havenít even met me yet. At least meet me, and then know Iím a loser.Ē

Iím had also still been struggling with my support group stuff. I had written a note to the person who I had supported through all this, asking how things had gone and rather needily, I suppose, asking her if we would still be friends after she leaves the group in a couple of weeks and she never wrote back. I guess actions speak stronger than words, huh?

So I ended up weeping on a park bench by the lake. Iím a quiet crier. I donít have spouses or partners or family members to share this with.

Once I regained my composure I headed back on the trail and followed this old hippie couple who had a dog exactly like Married Guyís dog. Great. He even had the same look in his eyes. I said something about (certain dog breed) when I walked by. They asked if I had one and I said that I used to care for one. Married Guy used to write me letters from his dog. Heíd write them from the dogís perspective and write slurrrp, slurrrp at the end. I guess that was instead of ďloveĒ. God forbid, a dog should ever proclaim his love for me in print.

Slurrrp, Slurrrp, indeed.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty