2006-02-07 @ 2:00 p.m. |
Is it just me, or does everyone in the Rolling Stones look like they forgot to put their dentures in today except Mick Jagger? Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, I watched the Rolling Stones during the Testosterone Bowl on Sunday. I always like to see what cadaverish, sixty year old, living testaments to a life of drug use look like and of course, I knew they would sing my theme song, �I can�t get no satisfaction�. I even got up off the couch and jumped up onto the coffee table with my 3D Happy Hanukkah sunglasses and sang into a hairbrush, scaring Guardcat into a near fatal cat heart attack. It was all very exciting and just atypical of a night at the awittykitty homestead. See you don�t need drugs and alcohol to have fun, just relentless boredom and the serenity that comes from living alone with a cat. Yeah, I know...what a crock of shit. Well, that bitch Mother Nature is really kicking our ass today. After only about 7 inches of snow for all of January, we had about a foot of snow overnight. And being OCD I kept going out my front door and sweeping it directly off my porch down into the creek. I had complained to the management about lack of maintenance, especially around the mailboxes and I looked this morning and its all shoveled out. Yay for being a big mouth! Of course I had also vaguely mentioned on a note attached to my rent that I had almost slipped and fell and oh my, how icky those law suits can be. Heh, heh. Power of suggestion is amazing, especially where money is involved. I had met this woman down in the laundry room last week and she had said she really wished our apartments would go co-op so she could BUY it. And I was like �huh?� These apartments are tiny. The building is crumbling. There are rodents. It has poor maintenance. Why in God�s name would you want to buy the damn thing. I told her I was on disability and she daintily said, �Oh, I guess you couldn�t afford it then.� Nor would I want to, you damn wench. Well, on Monday at work I talked to my boss about what happened with the lesbian chick over the weekend. She had already called my boss, of course. I knew she would. She had also called me twice on my voice mail. She told my boss that she didn�t want to see me anymore because it was too hard because she has a crush on me. She also added that she had thought I was a lesbian too...which can I clarify for a uno momento here....is a load of crap. I knew she was gay the first time I went out, so I went to great lengths telling her I had just ended a 5 year relationship with a married MAN, you know, as in someone who possesses a penis. But I guess she just heard what she wanted. The message on my voice mail was similar and then a second message gave me permission to call her up and make fun of her. I, of course, would never do that. I�m not like that. I talked to �A� about it this morning. He�s had his share of these one-sided borderline relationships. He told me that I wasn�t responsible for it and placed the blame entirely on my client. He said as long as I had set up strong boundaries (which I did), I was not at fault in any way. He also said that she left me no choice when she wouldn�t get in my car Saturday. Ugh. I hate when people are hurting. I�m too soft hearted. Well, its 5 days until ELVIS!!! WOO!!!!!! My mom is taking me to see her buddy the Elvis impersonator this Saturday before my birthday. And I couldn�t be more ____________ (insert adjective of great excitement). Do I want to go? Well, I guess that�s the million dollar question. Did my mom ask me if I wanted to go? Yes. And what was my answer? No. Did she give up asking me? No. Did I give up saying no? No. Did she use guilt to make me say yes? Yes. Did I crumble under her guilt? No. Has she ever thought that maybe I might want something more useful than a night at a Elvis impersonator show? No. Has she ever asked what I really wanted? No. I guess you can see a little pattern forming here. This conversation has been going on since December when she found out her Elvis impersonator buddy was having a show the day before my birthday. I have no interest in seeing the show and I don�t want her to spend the $60 for something I didn�t want to see, especially since she�s poor. I have been saying �No...No...No� for two months. And then the other morning she called all excited and said, �I made the reservations for Saturday. We have to be there at 6. We�re sitting with Elvis� parents.� See how much input I had into my birthday present? Sure, its a gift, but she knows I have no interest in going. She did assure me that he won�t come over, attempt to sit in my lap and sing, �Happy birthday, babbbeeeeee� to me, which, of course, would culminate in the newspaper headline: �Birthday celebrant stabs Elvis impersonator in aorta with a steakknife�. Its not that I don�t want attention on my birthday. I do. Lots of it. Hugs. Kisses. Roses. Even a stray e-mail from someone would be nice. Instead I�ll be laying on my couch watching the conclusion to �Grey�s Anatomy�, wondering who�s going to get laid first, me or the young, lovable George on the show. So this morning when I was seeing �A� I was telling him how my mother always tells me I�m a pessimist and she�s an optimist and he came up with a good zinger which I won�t repeat here, since this diary appears to have some uninvited guests. But he assured me that I am NOT a pessimist. I am quite the opposite. And then I added, not only am I not an pessimist, I�m also quite cute and adorable too! He looked up over his laptop and said, �You�re working on it.� WHAT????When a delusional person says they�re cute and adorable, especially when they�re on the cusp of being 48 years old, you�re supposed to instantly agree and nod your head so violently your glasses fall off. Mmm-kay? Older Entries |
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty |