2005-07-21 @ 11:21 p.m.
Here is your horoscope for Thursday, July 21:
You're due for a major epiphany, and it won't come to you under ordinary circumstances. A most unusual situation will bring it to you. Pay attention to that little voice in the back of your mind. It's never let you down.
An epiphany? Have I ever mentioned that the word e-PIP-hany is my absolute favorite word in the English language? I love that word. Because for one, its so much fun to say..epiphany...epiphany.. la, la..epi-PHANY. I always kind of imagine myself running through my garden naked, throwing rose petals or something. Epiphany! Or taking an uzi down to a clock tower and shooting child molesters...Epiphany! Or telling my brother Guido Obnoxious, I don’t really care that you have a gold Volvo and eat sun dried tomatoes grown by virgin nuns in Tuscany, because I’m fine without all the frou frous and I don’t have to make others feel bad about themselves, in order to feel good about myself....Epiphany!
But I’m not really sure if it will be an epiphany of that nature. And frankly, I’m a little worried about the part that says, it won’t come to me under ordinary circumstances. Because you know me.... I’m already starting to imagine the worst...like my car stalling in the middle of an intersection, which its been doing recently, and some big ol’ 2005 Hummer hitting me, and some cute single 47 year old psychiatrist with dark curly hair getting out to see if I’m all right (not likely, since my Ford Tempo of Doom is about the size of a office desk) and me needing mouth to mouth resuscitation, but he’s a germaphobe and even though I’m cute, and he may be in love with me, he’s reticent, so despite the fact that I’m bleeding to death and my arm is hanging off by a tendon, there is some doubt about whether he is going to save my life. So where is the epiphanistic moment in this scene? Well, despite the fact, that my face is half ripped off and my brains are laying on Court Street and the wheel of his 2005 is resting on my abdomen, I promise that we can do page 67 in the Kama Sutra anytime he wants, even if I’m not in the mood, and we can even film it and put it up on his company website. Just please, dear god, get your Hummer off my abdomen.
Its only an epiphany, because I don’t usually promise page 67 to strangers. Even if they’re cute and just the fact that I did that, without thinking about it, was, well, an epiphany!
As far as listening to that little voice in the back of my head? I take meds for that.
Anyways, it took 47 years, but I finally got approval from my mother yesterday. Can you believe it? Wow. As with all children, I think we constantly seek approval from our parents from the second we pop out of the womb. I know I have. But I’ve never been able to please my mom. Ever!! Good grades? Meh, not good enough. Nice artwork? Why’d you paint that elephant purple, witty? That’s stupid. Good writing skills? HA!!!!!!! I just read your 60 page script and found a typo!!! But mom, what about the story? The characters? The dialogue? Her: You spelled “then” wrong. Me: “Oh” (tearing up the script and throwing it off the nearest highway overpass and then feeling the urge to jump as well). But yesterday...heh, heh. I earned, my evil behavior wings. And my mom was thrilled.
First I should explain a few things. I am the #1 wuss in the entire universe. I am afraid of conflict and will not confront anyone. You could park your SUV on my foot out in the parking lot of the yuppie grocery store and I would probably just politely, yet painfully stand there until you got back and then apologize for being in the way. Kick my ass. Treat me like shit. Steal my inheritance. Me do anything about it? Naw!
I used to let Married Guy use me. We’d barter for massages, but I also used to house and pet sit for free. Why for free? Because he’d always frame it like this...”Gee witty, wouldn’t you love to get out of your little crappy shit hole apartment and come live in a nice, big luxurious country house for a week?” Me (in my hypnotic trance) “Yes, Married Guy, that would be swell!” And then I would get out there and he would never leave me any food in the house. And I had to take care of his dog and two cats and gerbils. And I’d always end up cleaning the damn place, because wifie was too busy drinking her glass of wine out in the garden to leave the house in an acceptable condition. Towards the end, I finally did request some gas money and a small amount of food and soda, plus some barter bucks. It was only fair.
Did I mention, being in love, makes you stupid?
So, what apocalyptic event did I do to make my mommy so proud of me? Well, it really wasn’t much. If you read this diary much, you’ve probably heard me
Well, last Thursday when we had that really intensive thunderstorm, our power went off for about 5 hours and its been going off intermittently for the last week. This, obviously had wreaked havoc with the timer on the damn thing and instead of shutting off at 8:30 p.m., like it usually does, it started staying on until 3 a.m. I had already been over there once this Spring to complain, because when they first turned it on, it was running until 2 a.m. Try going to sleep when a supersonic jet is breaking the sound barrier right next to your bedroom, 749 times an hour. Grrrr! So I went over once again last Friday and talked to the two receptionists. I was nice about it and they said they would reset the timer. Tuesday night, it was still running until 2:30 a.m. I just went postal.
So I called the dentist office phone number at 2:30 a.m. and I stood out in my side yard, right under the A.C. unit, while it was making its mega-noise and started screaming into the phone...”Hi, this is your neighbor, witty o-snerkowitz, and this is what it sounds like next to my bedroom when your air conditioning unit is going on and off at 2:30 a.m. in the morning. Isn’t that pleasant? Can you even hear me? Probably not. Nobody can hear much of anything when your stupid air conditioner unit is going on and off at 2:30 a.m. And nobody can sleep either. Do you think you could sleep during this?” And then I held the phone up to the A/C unit once again, so that they could get its full effect. And it was LOUD. “So I just wanted you to get an idea what I have to deal with day after day. I did come over and politely talk to you the other day....twice actually and you said you would fix the problem. But does this sound fixed?” (and then I held the phone up to the A/C unit once again) “I didn’t think so, either. So can we get this fixed? (smarmily) thank you.”
Next evening. A/C unit was off by 7:30 p.m. That’s even an hour earlier than it was before the power outage! Yee haw!! Kittyzilla! Roar!!!! So I told my mom what I did, and she was so proud of me. Now if only I could get those stupid cicadas out in the yard to shut the fuck up!
It has cooled down slightly. Yesterday I went to a full day psychiatric conference and the air conditioning was so cold, I nearly had to chip my ass off the seat. And to make matters worse, I had just bought a new sundress that was fairly low cut, as in cleavage bearing. Brrr! The subject was fairly interesting though and the speaker, when he attempted to be funny sounded like Barney Fife. But my main objective was free food and 8 hours of pay. And did I mention, free food? I sat with J, the Married Guy. We chatted inbetween segments. The Lesbian Chick, who’s in love with me, almost thought I was going to sit at her table when I first walked in, but I pretended not to see her and then “J” made room at his table. Phew. Close one.
I was really exhausted when I got home though, so I took a brief nap and then it was off to my art class. We had the same model as about two weeks ago which was a little disappointing. She’s kind of boring, except for her penchant for splaying her legs open, in what I call her gynecological I’m ready for my pap smear pose. I guess it must be where I sit, because she did the same pose 2 weeks ago, in all its furry, vaginal glory. Yay! If only I were interested in that kind of stuff...it would have been STUPENDOUS!! But alas, I’m not. So here it is...
Ok, you’re safe now. Phew. That WAS scary, huh.
Our class was pretty small. Our fearless art leader was in a very good mood however, because he had won first place in a local art contest. Once a year we have an outdoor arts festival and they rope off a section of sidewalk and artists are able to buy squares (the money goes to charity) and then create art within them. Our fearless leader, who is a very wonderful artist, recreated a scene done by B0tticell1...a.nude of course. It took him 7 hours, but it won him 1st place and $200 and our name in the local alternative newspaper. A couple of our other artist had participated in a separate art square. The news media was all over the event, although when they broadcast images from the scene they only showed the angelic faces of the figures and not the, gasp, nekkid parts. So we were talking about that and how stupid censorship was and all the crap reality shows show, and yet they can’t even show a beautifully drawn breast.
The Sci Fi Artist Guy had said how the camera had just kind of slid off the edge of the image, so as not to see anything. And then I said, “Oh, like the naughty bits? And then I immediately felt like a total dork. The naughty bits? Don’t you mean the nipples, witty? Sheesh. I felt so stupid. I tried to somehow salvage my tattered coolness factor by talking about the way they pixilate the....naughty bits (damn, there I go again), whenever you see nudity on TV and then the cute Eye-talian Guy said, “Yeah, whenever I see that pixilated stuff, I always feel the immediate need to run into the bathroom and you know....” and he started to simulate masturbation and all the guys started laughing knowingly.
And I was like Whoa! to myself, but I laughed right along with all the cool male artists and “L” the hippy chick, because, you have to admit, whacking off to a pixilated nude person, is kinda funny, especially when you get to see a real nude people every week. And possibly, when you’re so damn cute like the Eye-talian guy, possibly every day. I mean, I don’t have to worry about that one...seeing nude people EVERY day. I have to pay to see mine. But I laughed right along with them, especially the Professional Artist Guy. Have I mentioned him lately? He sure does look at me alot. But you know what? He’s kinda married. But you know what? He always seems to make a concerted effort to always smile and talk to me and go into the unisex bathroom at the same time as me and wash his hands in the same sink as me and even leave at the same time as me. He is like so cool though. He owns an animation studio in town. He works on national films. But he’s really shy and quiet, considering all that he does. But gosh. Why does he look at me all the time? Hmm. Probably wondering what I look like without pixilation. Yeah, that’s it.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty