2006-02-05 @ 12:39 a.m.
I guess that pretty much goes without saying....that I’m passionate and creative (cough) drama queen. My blog actually is important to me and I do feel there is a certain amount of quality control involved. I have written whole entries and just trashed them. And I guess over the years, its become less of a diary, per se, and written more for an audience. That really comes from all the years I wrote for newspapers. When I was writing for newspapers, I’d sit down and try to write in my own private diary and be aware that I was writing for an audience. And now its just the opposite. Well, except for maybe today....I need to get some angsty stuff out.
I’m stuck with a job full of ill people who are starting to get on my last nerve. I mean, I like helping people and making them feel good about themselves, but since getting entangled with this lesbian client this last month (and a couple of other things), I have so not wanted to be there.
We had settled things this last week in a meeting with my boss. You know, the thing where she dumped me because I was supposedly prejudiced against lesbians. What it all boiled down to was a single sentence. She said she wanted to “leave me before I left her.” HUH? Doesn’t that sound kinda like a romantic relationship? But we talked things out on Monday and decided that we could continue as client/my job. So we went out today. I was a little nervous, but I always trust people want to make things better.
After lunch and some awkward conversation involving her wanting to take me to Hooters for my birthday. She said she’d pay. She wanted to pretend she was blind so she could “look at the scenery”. I told her I didn’t like Hooters and thought it was derogatory to women. We went for a walk after lunch. I was trying to be supportive of her goals (which, by the way, is part of my job description), but she kept going back to the gay thing over and over and over. She said she wished that there were gay (my job title) so she could speak more freely. I had told her at lunch that I was uncomfortable with all the sexual innuendo directed at me, despite the reassurance that “her type” doesn’t go after “my type”. She said she wished she could draw a big line down the middle of the world and the straight people were on one side and the gay people were on the other side. I told her that would be hard for me, because my best friend is gay, so I’d have to wave at him on the other side. And she said, you only like men. You don’t like lesbians. I then told her I had had a lesbian friend for 3 years out in California. We were best friends. Sex had just never entered the equation. We walked on a daily basis and played tennis. I visited her at her store. She came to see me at my job. We were just friends. My client wouldn’t believe me. And then suddenly she started walking away from me. She said, “This is me being angry at you.”
She might as well just added Neener, Neener, since it sounded so childish. And to be honest, I don’t like being called a liar and besides, I was just trying to make a point. You can have relationships without sex involved. Lord knows, I have first hand knowledge in this area. I’m like the Gandhi of No-Sex-Relationships.
She was temporarily lured back onto the path when some cute dogs came by and she cooed over them. I told her about my dogs growing up and I thought I had gotten her back in my good graces, but when we got to the parking lot, she just kept walking. I asked her to get in my car and she yelled “NO” back over her shoulder. I felt a little panicky since I’m responsible for her safety. So I got in my car and drove up by her as she climbed the hill towards the downtown area. I asked her to please get into the car. She said “No.” I then asked if she knew the bus schedule. She said “No.” I asked her to get in the car again and she stopped and said, “I don’t have to be in my apartment 24/7 you know”. I then offered her a bus token, but she wouldn’t take it. So I finally just drove away. I didn’t know what else I could do, short of knocking her unconscious and throwing her in the trunk. But I do have a flat tire in my trunk and it would have been hard to fit an angry lesbian in with a flat tire.
So OY!!!!! I don’t like this shit. I can’t help it if I’m not 1) a lesbian 2) who’s your potential sexual partner 3) who will go to Hooters with you 4) and ogle girls in tight shorts and shirts while you 5) pretend you’re Helen Keller. It’s just not in my job description. And for $8/hr. I’m not going to get pummeled with suggestive remarks and made to feel bad about MY sexual orientation for two hours either.
So I stopped at McDonald’s afterwards, where I virtually never go, because I can’t stand the smell of their rancid fake meat burgers cooking. But I neeeeeeded a sundae. It was in my old neighborhood and I think there must have been a fugly convention nearby, because there were some of the weirdest, fugliest people I’ve ever seen all gathered in one place. I saw one African American girl with a giant fat pony tail sticking straight out of her forehead. She looked like a Afrocorn. And then there were two people who looked like they had just wandered in from from some low budget Dress Like A Hobbit and Get 50% Off Your Car Wash Sale. The girl weighed about 450 pounds and had on a purple crushed velvet Renaissance dress with her 50 pound boobs falling out of the front. She had long black greasy hair that was down to her knees. Her boyfriend (or male serf possibly) was this tall, skinny, pimply kid in a green tunic and black tights with a large leather sword sheath strapped to his 8” round thigh. You just know if they were having sex and she sneezed, he would probably somehow get freakishly impaled by their commemorative Lord of the Rings ceiling fan. But I did finally push my way through the Diane Arbus freak crowd for my little one dollar sundae, so I’d feel better about abandoning my client in another city with no transportation or bus tokens. Sundaes are good in that way.
I then went over to the automotive store for yet another can of that stuff that is supposed to plug up leaks in your radiator. My car thinks its one of the four food groups. The engine light had come on AGAIN yesterday when I was picking up another client and I had checked the oil thingie and there was no oil on it once again. Its not that I ignore my car or don’t take care of it. Its just that the oil is leaking at such an alarming rate, that I can’t always keep up with it. So I got the oil leakie pluggie uppie stuff and some more oil and said yet another novena over the Ford Tempo of Doom.”Oh dear lord, please don’t let the piece of crap car die. They just cut my food stamps even more and raised my medicaid spend down to almost $200/mo. And I have a lesbian mad at me. Let us pray....”
I guess the one ray of sunshine for the day, was when I got home and took my shoes off and managed to NOT step in some cat barf in front of the bathroom door. See, my luck is changing already. Maybe I should go buy some lottery tickets!! :-)
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty