2005-07-19 @ 1:58 a.m.
Dear wittykitty body:
Why are you acting so weird? Is it PMS? Is it menopause? Because you have to admit, your food intake today has been kinda weird. True, you had to get a very quick snackie before "A"s appointment this morning, because you knew his appointment would be its usual rough self and then you had to fly back to town, because you had to miss work, in order to get to his appointment and there would be no time to eat when you got back and join a meeting in progress. And then "J" needed to talk to you, like he always does, even though you really wanted to go up to the Qi Gong class upstairs to unkink from your unhappy appointment. And then "K" wanted you to show her how to get e-mails from your computer "AGAIN", so "J" is standing there talking and being glib and "K" is waiting for you to work your wittykitty magic on the computer in your little tiny cubical and "J" is still laughing at how much you jump every time he comes up behind you in your cubical. Like yeah, ha, ha, how funny. And for some reason, you can't quite comprehend the computer at work, because it has a different operating system from home, so I'm getting stressed out and swearing and saying the word "fuck" in front of co-workers and they're laughing, because, of course, wittykitty, is always amusing, except I wasn't trying to be amusing, because I was actually getting really frustrated and then a rather alarming thing happened. When I went to get into our e-mail program, my diaryland name popped up and I nearly died of a coronary. I immediately tried to delete it off the computer screen and I'm not sure if anyone saw it. I've never pulled up my diary at work, but I have looked at notes via my AOL-account, and now suddenly awittykitty has somehow parked its secret ass on my work computer and I am petrified that somebody will see it and I will be outed as the effervescent, but extremely inappropriate awittykitty and 29 people will want to beat me on the head and /or fire me, so I was very stressed out and after everyone left, I desperately tried to get into the innerworkings of my computer and try to erase it out of the history, but was unsuccessful. Arghhh!
Wringing my sweaty, angsty hands, I then headed into our break room. I was actually making a bee-line to our candy box, where you put in 70 cents and then you can select anything from a Hershey's chocolate bar to a grandma's chocolate chip cookie. I was actually thinking of just tipping the entire box into my mouth and later having a coroner say that I died due to Death By Chocolate. But halfway to the box, my case manager was eating lunch and she said, "Hey, here is some fruit. Its probably better for you than candy."
Can you imagine that? Someone standing in the way of me committing suicide by chocolate? Fuck. And she did. I stopped and put a bunch of grapes and kiwi fruit on a dish and brought them into the group I did with "J". Damn her! Damn her!! I even drank a diet soda with the fruit. I guess psychologically, I was thinking about the 7 pounds I've lost in the last month, and how I really didn't want to gain it all back with a choco-spec-hog-tacular.
Driving home though, I once again got stressed. My car got fixed on Saturday. Right? Did it? I thought it did. It worked pretty well going out to "A"s this morning. I even bought some brake fluid to circumvent that stupid brake light that's been on since last week (my mechanic guy said to do that and it worked). But on the way home, up the big hill to my house, the damn car once again lost power, and I'm just driving by sheer momentum. I did somehow manage to get off the main street and get off into the Sedgewick neighborhood where there's not much traffic. But by then I was very stressed. Fucking car. It was about 100 degrees out. I didn't have the A/C on because I was trying to be kind to my car on its first trip out, but dammit all, no power. WTF.
Needless to say...stress=McDonald's McFlurries. Its the law. So I got my car to McDonald's and went in for a nice, big ol' decadent ice-cream/mega M&M infused twirley thing and just sat in the air conditioned booth, amid all the old Eye-talian guys who frequent the place and slowly ate my ice cold concoction. Yum. I've been eating an awful lot of these puppies the last couple of weeks. It has to be the heat, I tell you. Has to be. After Mickey D's I headed over to the Dollar Tree to get a shower curtain, and damn my evil twin. She grabbed a jar of honey roasted nuts, and I was somehow eating them before I even left the store. And you know those fools who drive while they use their cell phones? Well, I partook in nuts, as I was hurtling down the street towards my house. And as soon as I got home, I went in the refrigerator and...guess what? Gee, I don't know, witty, what? I grabbed a huge jar of dill pickles and started downing them like I was going for a Guinness Book of Records.
Ok, so let us review...in a half hour's time, I ate 1) a McFlurrie with M&Ms dwooshed up in it. 2) a whole jar of honey roasted nuts 3) about 7 pickles. Plus I downed almost a whole litre of Polar Diet Dry Orange Soda. And then I cracked open a 2 litre bottle of Diet Coke. And gee, suddenly it was almost time for dinner. But damn, the power went out (AGAIN!!! This is like the 4th time in 4 days!!), so all my A/C went out, my phone went dead, my TV went dead, but I was able to cook dinner on my gas stove. Yay! So I did a stir fry with onions and beef and green beans, because, why? Was I hungry? Yeah, that's it! And then I had a yogurt. And about another litre of diet coke. And I think I possibly gnawed on a kitchen chair. Thankfully, Guardcat was too fast for me to catch to eat.
I wish I could blame pregnancy or tapeworms on this sudden upsurge of intensive eating, but I think its just anxiety about my impending move. I also had a tangle with "A" this morning. I'm just so tired of dealing with his request of me going on sMatch.com and dating old dudes. And they are OLD "A". I just refuse to consider dating men who are 10-15 years older than me. Old men creep me out. I don't like them. But according to "A", they are my ONLY potential date mates, because supposedly men will ONLY date those who are considerably younger then they are. I just don't buy that. I've always dated men who were younger than me. Always. I look and act younger than I am and I would say about 98% of the people who meet me are shocked that I'm 47. They think I'm in my early 40's and some even think late 30's. Last year when "A" was trying to hook me up with the Nanny Guy he didn't want me to tell him my age. Why? Because you knew he wouldn't know I was in my mid-40's initially. And he also knew that perv was looking for girls in their 30's. But I blew my cover. I blurted out that I was 46 and he got all flipped out. I'm not into deception though. I want all the cards to be on the table. I don't want anyone to be lying about anything.
And today, when I was walking out of "A"s appointment, Mysterious Paul was waiting in the reception area, and I so wanted to say, "Hey, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee sometime?" Why? Because Mysterious Paul is a mere 36 years old. And wouldn't that be pretty HIlarious. Me having a Boy Toy. Not that I would know what to do with one, right "A"? I suppose I could just bat it around a little and then maybe do something with him, involving tongues.
But regardless, my eating was totally out of control today. I think some of it may have to do with the excessive heat we've been having. We've had 14 days over 90 degrees already and the humidity has been excessive. We have dew points in the 70's. All the floors in my apartment are damp. I have a severe heat rash under my breasts. Its just been miserable. If I wanted weather like this I'd live in Florida. And unfortunately there's more to come this week. It's also going to pretty much be 90's for the rest of the week. Ugh! Stop! Also "A" is going on vacation, so I'll just be sweating and miserable by myself. At least when he's here, I'm sweaty and miserable with company.
I did drop a girl from group who drove me home a note, and she wrote me back quite an extensive note. I was surprised. I thought only I did that kind of shit. I had held myself back, not wanting to scare her, because I usually come on strong initially when I write e-mails and intimidate people. So I'm not sure if anything will happen, but we'll see. She has a new boyfriend, so she'll probably be busy.
My question out to you guys is: How much older is your boyfriend or spouse than you? Can you drop me a line in my comments? I'm really curious to see if "A" is delusional in his thinking that men ONLY go for women who are 10-15 years younger than their husbands. Married Guy's wife was almost 10 years younger than him and I believe "A"s wife is younger than him, at least chronologically. I just want to know if my need to find someone born in the same decade as me, is so far fetched. Thanks.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty