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2005-09-29 @ 12:34 a.m.
republicans? there goes the neighborhood....

Okay, so I'm standing on the main street in the Village waiting to catch the bus to "A"s appointment yesterday morning when this dark blue car pulls up. All I can see is this finger wiggling for me to get in. At first I'm like WTF, its not like I'm not dressed like a hooker or anything. And then I see it. The safari hat on the car seat. Now who do I know who wears a khaki safari hat? Any of my art class buddies? NO. Any of my co-workers? NO. Anyone besides the people on "Survivor"? NO. Who.....?

HAROLD THE GEEK from A's group!! So I tilted down a little lower and there he was in all his geek-gantuan splendor with his clip on sun glasses and his military haircut and his khaki safari jumpsuit. I just can't peg him. He's like some rare a cross between Thurston Howell III, Dick Cavett and Al Franken. I opened the car door and he said, "Are you going to Doctor A's office?"

Now isn't that a strange thing to ask me? I realize that's who he associates me with...seeing "A" and all, by why, oh why would he automatically assume, just because I'm standing at a bus stop in the Village that I would be on my way to "A"s? Because I've been standing out on our main street a lot lately...on the way to work. Hmmm. This all seems a little suspicious to me.

Man, someone is so totally busted!!

So I got into the car, because hey, free car rides make me a happy girl these days and Harold looked over at me like any Republican might look at a hippie. He immediately apologized for not being there for me during my move and then added that he has a house warming gift for me -- a tea pot. And I'm thinking, ok...cough it up. Because, after all, how many people ever get me a freakin' gift? And rather amazingly I had actually thrown away my teapot shaped like a chicken right before I moved. But I was also thinking, hey that was pretty smooth...offering gifts to a hot chick who has just entered the perimeters of your quasi-geekdom. I told him that was nice although we didn't make any definite arrangements about when this gift was going to change hands, and to be truthful, I have one of those tiny apartment stoves only about 12 inches across, so I hope its not too big and you know what? I don't think I really have to worry because I don't think he actually bought me a house warming tea pot because why would he? He was only a guy in "A"s group, who I used to say HI to and kibitz with a little because he had the same sarcastic humor as me. And of course since I've moved to the Village, I've been walking by his house hoping to see this Norman Bateish mother he used to talk about, like through a curtain or something, but I haven't seen her yet, because frankly, I don't think she exists. I think he's an eccentric single guy who is looking for love and he hasn't got a clue what to do, so "A" has once again donned his cloak of yenta-dom in an attempt to bring two lonely middle aged jokesters together.

But I'm only guessing, because did I mention I'm medicated? And manic? And am writing vast, lengthy stories in my head about everyone on the bus and co-workers and yesterday when "A" mentioned Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy for the second week in a row, for no apparent reason, telling me that I should be aware of my boundaries around him and that he doesn't have any and that I should be careful, that freaked me out so bad that I canceled going to my art class tonight. And I don't even know why "A" keeps bringing him up. And then I started wondering if he (Charlemagne) found my diary and saw all the times I said I wanted to have crazy monkey sex with him in the unisex bathroom.

Hey, I was just thinking out loud. It doesn't mean I would actually do anything with him. IN fact, I know I wouldn't. I really like Charlemagne. I mean, I may call him obnoxious and all, but he's actually a nice albeit self centered guy. (ha, a self centered guy, isnít that an oxymoron?) But he's also involved with someone.

But with all these elaborate warnings from "A", it just got me so freaked out that I called and canceled the cab that was going to pick me up at 6:15. I even think I was supposed to co-host with Charlemagne tonight too. I can just see him running in at 6:53 and wondering why nothingís done. But my fear outweighed my guilt. And thatís a constant see-saw. Which weighs more? My fear or my guilt? Or even my ass?

I guess Iím feeling guilty because I had a Boston Kreme donut at Dunkiní Donuts today. But sheesh, I had just gotten off a bus where this big African American guy had plopped down in the seat next to me and was ranting very loudly to the Black bus driver about how much white people hated ďniggersĒ and how his father had been a bus driver in South Philly and he had hit a white girl who was the daughter of the racist mayor and how he had gotten fired and then drank himself to death. And then how his mother was a Jehovah Witness and how they had to walk through white neighborhoods and people would throw pots of water on them and call them niggers. And Iím sitting in my bus seat next to him looking down at the floor, because I was scared. And then suddenly he just put his head against the rail and fell asleep. When we got to town the bus driver said, ďYoĒ several times and then had to physically wake him up. I was actually glad when he fell asleep or passed out or whatever, because I was such a nervous wreck sitting next to him. Naturally I just jumped right off the bus and then had to immediately have a large glob of sugar and grease and cream to make me feel better. And it was rather humorous, because I was going downtown for a meeting about our new empowerment group. And yet I felt totally powerless in expressing anything or empowering this guy. I just felt the need to stick a donut in my mouth, so I could experience something, like the taste of sweetness in my mouth, to help me forget the reality of his situation, of which I felt more like the problem than the solution.

I hate the bus. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

So I told Harold the Geek that I was really missing our group with ďAĒ. I donít remember if he replied. I then told him I had walked by his house and that he had a nice yard and he said not to walk in the park across the street because a lot of dogs went to the bathroom there. I then reminded him where I live....across from the library and he said, ďAh yes, the **** Apartments. Iím on the Republican caucus over in ** and I come over to your building all the time and knock on doors to get votes. Huh? I slowly turned and looked over at him, in all his glorious geekiness and said, ďWell, if you ever come to my door trying to get me to vote Republican, Iíll probably hit you over the head with one of my potted plants.Ē He kind of laughed.

I guess you can see why I havenít had a date since Flock of Seagulls were popular.

We finally got down to ďAĒs office, which by car takes 3 minutes, but by bus takes almost 15 minutes. Yay!

It was good seeing the ever-helpful ďAĒ. I had to discuss something that had happened at work that had really upset me and he made some good suggestions on how to deal with a certain person. I had been upset all weekend about it and then went in Monday and had a big crying siege with my male boss and then cried on the way home with ďJĒ. Iíve just been a mess. But the way ďAĒ explained how I should deal with this person made me feel better almost immediately. Thanks "A".

Next on the agenda was going to look at new cars with my case mgr., which unfortunately turned out to be an exercise in futility. HUGE-cilloís, whose ads promise that practically any loser in the whole freakiní universe can drive off their lot with a new car...didnít quite deliver. Its mostly my fault though. I just 1) Donít have enough money for a down payment 2) Donít make enough money for a $300/mo car payment. Poverty really sucks. So it looks like Iím going to fix the Ford Tempo of Doom for the gazillionth time....this time with a hot glue gun so it doesnít drop a carborator on James Street and try to make it last until Spring, when Iíll supposedly have enough money saved for a down payment. Yeah right, after paying my electric bill all winter.

I wrote ďAĒ a note when I got home about the car news, since heís been helping out with all the stuff Iím supposed to do when looking for a car. I then told him I was going to go show up at Harold the Geekís front door and say, ďHi. Iím witty, your neighbor. Can you take me to the yuppie grocery store to get cat litter?Ē because dammit, I havenít been able to carry a 10 pound bag of litter 3 blocks up from the bus stop and the box is really starting to stink.

Unfortunately ďAĒ wasnít forthcoming with any suggestions in that direction. Oh well.

P.S. Hey! I was quoted in diarylandís QUOTED website today. Check it out.

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