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2005-07-04 @ 10:11 p.m.
loud noises and sour grapes...what can you do?

I know one just really don’t want to live across the street from a fire station on the Fourth of July. Because evidently every geekbrain within a 50 mile radius has attempted to set themselves on fire with illegal fireworks, because that freakin’ alarm has been going off about every half hour since yesterday.

So here’s the scenario: Alarm goes off. Me looking like the poor sod in Edvard Muench’s painting with my hands over my ears....screaming. And then 1 minute later the fire trucks tumbling out of the station and tearing down the street. Yes, its true. They do serve a purpose and if Guardcat ever sets the house on fire, I will be totally thrilled that they are merely across the street, but at 2:50 a.m. in the morning, just 20 minutes after I was FINALLY able to get to sleep (after my neighbors behind me stopped shooting off freaking fireworks for over 3 hours, making Guardcat run around like a wingnut on 3000 gallons of caffeine), to have that stupid fucker go off, pretty much sent me into a rage. I sat up in my bed and started screaming obscenities to nobody in particular.

Yes...moving to a new apartment in a month or two sounds like a smashing idea. And the deal was sealed when I woke up this morning at the precise moment when the massive A/C unit next to my bedroom kicked on, the fire alarm went off and my neighbor’s yappy dog started yapping all simultaneously.

Yay....summer! Now shut up.

I really can’t take too much noise. I used to work in the stereo department of a store which is where I think I developed my low threshold for noise. We sold about 30 different stereos, which were all situated on shelves so that dickheads our lovely customers could try them out. So they would turn one of them on. Naw, sounds crappy. And then a second one...a.little louder. Had to be louder so that they could hear the quality. Man, what a piece of shit. And then they’d walk 2 feet further and turn on a third one just a titch louder on a different station. Its okay, but do you have a tape we could put in they'd ask? So I would hand them a Madonna tape (this was the early 80’s) and they would put it in and it would be blast them out, because the last lovely dickhead customer had forgotten to turn down the volume. So they would turn it down, but they would still have to have the volume loud enough to hear it above the other 3 stereos someone else left playing along the counter. Did I mention that we had about 5 sales people and that each of them had customers doing the exact same thing simultaneously? On all different radio stations. And all different sample music tapes. And everybody had to keep turning their stereos louder so they could hear the quality (Psst. Hey customer...guess what, they’re actually all shit. You might want to head over to a real stereo store instead of Macys).

And then there was the juvies who used to come in. I really hated those little bastards. They would be hovering around the stereos. I would call security to come and watch them. But what they were really doing was something to annoy the clerks. They would, in tandem, surreptitiously set all the stereos to the same radio station and when we got busy, they would run along the aisle, and turn every single dial to the maximum volume and then run down the escalator laughing. I mean what can you do? They didn’t exactly do anything illegal. Punk bastards.

I also grew up in the flight path of the Miami International Airport. My Dad, who was a pilot, used to fly over the house on the way home and tip his wing to tell my mom to start the bar-b-que. The reason I’m mentioning this? Did the fact that an airplane was flying low enough for my Dad to tip the wing to signal my mom to start the bar-b-que tell you anything? Yes. We had low flying planes over our house pretty much 24/7. And they were loud. Very loud. And I think the constant roar of C-47s, flying 1000 feet over the house, may have made me what I am today...a nervous person...who doesn’t like loud noises. A life as a nun in a monestary really doesn’t sound all that bad.

But, alas, I am not a nun, by any stretch of the imagination. Its just me and my computer. Does anyone ever Google their old boyfriends or date mates? I am so nosy, and I am so glad that I live in the age of computers, because I love to look up people I used to go to school with and people I used to work with.

I have found some people, like my first gay boyfriend, and we have corresponded some and its been fun. Last night, out of sheer boredom, and lack of cable TV, I looked up a guy I used to have a crush on when I worked in California. Oh my, I had such a crush on him. We worked at a newspaper together. He wasn’t my usual physical type (dark hair/dark eyes), but rather a tall, gawky blonde with light skin and blue eyes. So what attracted me to him? He had a fabulous sense of humor and was a very nice guy. Very kind to everyone. Never got involved in office politics. Never said anything snarky about anyone. And we were very playful with each other verbally. We sat next to each other and he came to work a half hour later than me, and my day would literally brighten the moment he walked in. I had such a crush on him. He was several years younger than me, but that didn’t seem to make a difference. We still kibitzed relentlessly and he was very affectionate to me.

And I wanted him to ask me out so badly, but I’m not exactly a liberated feminist-type and I was too shy to ask men out, so I just sat and waited. All available. And cute. I even went to the company softball games. Ha!! ME AT A SOFTBALL GAME. Yeah, I had it bad.. But he was kind of a jock, and it gave me additional time to flirt and be adorable and cheer him on. He did have a crush on one girl and would ask my advice. (editor’s note: If someone ever wrote a part for me in a movie, I would be the Lead Male Character’s wise cracking best female friend who never has a date. And I would probably be played by Carrie Fisher, but I digress...). So I patiently listened to him about her. She was a lush who played with his affections, but didn’t really have any interest in him. “T” wasn’t exactly a studmuffin. (He was to me, but this girl went more for the Russell Crowe type). She finally told him to officially buzz off. He was heart broken, but he got over it.

He had a big party at his house one night. I was terrified of going, because of my social anxiety, but I went...because it was at HIS house. We had a good time. He sat down and played the piano. And then, when some people cleared out of the room, I sat down and played the piano and he was all impressed and was laughing at my pianocular prowess. We played “Heart and Soul” together and my heart was definitely keeping time. I think I even got a hug when I left. I was so excited!!

And then something really incredibly happened. The most popular guy in our office asked me out to the movies! It was “T”!! We frequently talked about movies and then one day he finally asked me to go to dinner and a movie and I was over the moon! And nervous! Oy! We went after work one Friday. We had dinner at San Rafael Joe’s, and then headed over to the movies and saw “Dark Man”, a science fiction movie which I didn’t really like, but I liked being with “T”, so it didn’t matter.

On the way back to get my car, we saw a car accident and when we stopped for it (“T” wanted to help), we were shocked to see it was a co-worker. Fortunately they were fine, but it was a guy from work and his mouth was totally agape when he saw “T” and I walk up together. He even asked if we were on a date. Here he had just cracked up his car, but the fact that “T” had asked me on a date was so astounding, that he just had to leave his smoking mass of tangled car wreckage behind just so he could take a moment to comprehend the sheer magnitude of such a freakish occurrence. Witty on a date with "T".

Yes. And soon, armageddon, my friend. Soon.

The next day “T” wasn’t at work. I was worried. The following day he showed up, looking a little disheveled, but pretty darn happy. He called me from across our desks. He said, “Do you notice anything?” Me: “No.” Him: “I’m wearing the same clothes as two days ago. I think I’ve met the woman I’m going to marry. We’ve been together for 36 hours...if you know what I mean...” (wink, wink)

Me: “Oh.”

I hung up the phone and then called my friend Patty who sat a couple of desks over, just beyond “T”. “Patty?” She looked over at me. “ I must be “T’s good luck charm. We went on one date and now he’s getting someone else.” I hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom and cried. I had been waiting over a year to go on a date with “T” and then he meets his future wife within 8 hours? And obviously they had already slept together, something we had neglected to do. And I was fairly certain it wasn’t going to be a hard decision for him, because his new instant girlfriend was pretty, slender, owned her own successful company and slept with him on their first date. Me on the other hand, was overweight, insecure, sold advertising for a newspaper, and what was that last thing? Oh, I didn’t even come close to sleeping with him on our first date. Remember? I’m the funny, chubby friend played by Carrie Fisher in the movie... So why would be choose me?

Interestingly, the next person I dated, “J” was his room mate. We went out on one date and guess what? Can you guess? Oh come on. Just give it a little guessy wessy... He met HIS future girlfriend within a day or two of our date. I was starting to think I should rent myself out to men who want to meet their future wives. One date with witty, and your love life will be IMPROVE DRAMATICALLY. Guaranteed! Mine won’t, but yours will. It was then, in the late 1980’s that I pretty much gave up on dating. I mean I did have that “thang” with Married Guy, but I could never actually call it dating since we never dated. He already had a wife. It was sort of like inverted pseudo invisible non-existant non-un-dating where you don’t actually date, you just have feelings from being thrown together randomly but not really. ya got that?

So where was I going with this? Oh, so I looked up “T’s name on Dogpile and Google and pulled up some runner’s information. I’m not surprised that he turned to running, since he was such a natural athlete and I do have a thing for runners it seems. And then I turned up an article that he had been to a Fantasy Baseball Camp with a certain major league baseball team, which didn’t surprise me either. Remember the company softball games? "T" was good! And while, I’m not exactly sure how Fantasy Baseball Camps work, meaning I don’t know if you have to be a good athlete to participate, or you just have to have MONEY. I actually think “T” might now fall into either categories since I also Googled his wife and her company grossed over $40 million last year.


Good choice “T”! Otherwise you’d be stuck into a tiny apartment next to a fire station with a bipolar hippie.

But really the thing that got to me the most was a home page I brought up with a picture of their three kids. Damn. I just started crying like crazy when I saw that. Evidently they are going on a world cruise for about 6 months and will be updating their webpage as they travel everywhere from South America to Africa to Australia. I guess when your wife’s company grosses $40 million, you can afford a little vacation, right? The kids look like him though. Two girls and a boy. I guess what really made me cry, was that I lost a whole potentially happy life with someone in one night...the night HE met the right woman.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty