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2006-02-14 @ 2:27 p.m.
VD (valentine's day)

Yesterday during our Monday morning meeting at work, me and J2, another single guy I work with, were plotting to overthrow Valentine’s Day. After work we were going to drive down to Price Chopper (a grocery store with a floral department) and start overturning all the flower displays and ripping apart all the bouquets and shredding all the cute little “I love you” cards. I don’t even know where that came from. Oh I remember now, I was reading an article written by Married Guy in the local alternative newspaper and feeling kinda snarky. That’s right. And than apparently my brain felt the need to hatch a dastardly plot of gardenly mass destruction, and “J2” just seemed so excited about following through with my evil plan. Maybe he thought “Yay, I finally have a date with witty. Forget about the fact that I’ll probably get arrested for the destruction of thousands of dollars worth of personal property and have to go to jail and make restitution to the store. I’LL FINALLY HAVE A DATE WITH WITTY!!!!!”

See how stupid love makes you?

Of course there was that mysterious Valentine’s Card from my cat on Monday when I got home from work. Yup, I got a Valentine’s card from Guardcat with a California postmark. I’m not sure how she saved enough money to fly out to California without me noticing. I guess I must have thought she was sleeping under the chair for a couple of days, because I had a card from her that read: “You mean everything to, water, clean litter. Yup. Everything. Love, Guardcat (really).” I didn’t even know she knew our zip code. I wonder how she got through airport security? She kinda looks like an Al Qeida insurgent if you ask me.

Anyways, I’ve never had anyone go bonkers for me on Valentine’s Day. I think once Married Guy bought me a little tin of chocolates with Elvis on it that said, “Love me tender”. I kept waiting for that just never came. I did have a boy in high school write me a “love” poem. I was a year older than him and had a car. His poem went something like this. “If you drive me to the mall, I’ll give you my all, love, Steven.” Is that not the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard? Wow! Of course it did turn out he was gay, so getting to the Mall really turned out to be the most important thing on the list. And I never DID get his all, or much of anything else. I even had another kid in school tell me I turned Steven gay. Yes. I do have these Super Powers. Bring me your children....and I shall turn them Homosexual...For a small gratuity of course. Because turning people gay is tiring after all. Look at all the theatres on Broadway I have to fill. Phew. No wonder I don’t have time to date.

I did see “A” this morning and guess what the topic was? Go ahead and guess. ME DATING. Isn’t that like Holiday Appropriate for Valentine’s Day? Part of it was my fault though. I was a little indecisive when I went in. I wanted to do something really different, but I just couldn’t quite form the words. I was tired from the last couple of days. My birthday was a little better than usual, thanks to your many well wishes. D-landers are the best. Thanks for all your love. Hearing from you really made my day.

My favorite aunt and uncle took me out to lunch that day. My mom dominated the conversation, as usual, with the Elvis report. I don’t think anyone said more than about 3 words because we had to listen to a second by second accounting of what had happened during the entire 3 hours of Elvis show the night before. A couple of times I tried to talk to my aunt and uncle, but my mom talked right over the top of me. Now who’s the birthday girl here?? Oh, that’s not important. Never has been.

After the restaurant we went to my aunt’s house where she had baked me a beautiful cake. My mom stopped the Elvis report long enough to sing “Happy Birthday” to me, but then kicked into gear again. I finally got tired of not being able to talk at my own birthday party so I went in and played my aunt’s piano for about 45 minutes. It was nice because I don’t really play at home anymore because of apartment guilt. So I got my fingers working again. Mainly played “Phantom of the Opera” stuff, because my aunt had the score floating around. My mom finally left around 5 and then I had my aunt to myself for a couple of hours and we chatted and she fixed my coat lining which was all torn. And then it was home to see “Desperate Housewives” and to see whether Meredith would get blown up on “Grey’s Anatomy”. But of course that didn’t happen because then Grey’s anatomy wouldn’t exist anymore, right?

But anyways, back to my Valentine’s Day appointment with “A”. I did thank him for his note on my birthday. I wasn’t sure if he would remember, but he did. Good shrink. Good. He did give me a full, intensive appointment, without his laptop on his lap. I always feel like the third most important thing in the room when he’s tapping away on his laptop during my appointment.

Decisions made? Me trying a local dating service. Ha! Did I agree to it? I always agree to everything he says. Rather I do it or not is another thing. I personally want a more organic meeting. Like grabbing a red onion at the same time as some long dark haired stranger wearing a peace and justice pin, who can tell me how global warming is affecting the size of onions in Bolivia. He’s also might be wearing some horn rimmed glasses and have a Village Voice tucked under his arm and won’t make fun of the fact that I might ask him what sign he is, even though that is now kind of passe. I don’t want to get stuck with a verbose Gemini (my mother’s sign) when I could instead enjoy the company of a vivacious Aries or an Anything for Love Libra. Married Guy was a Capricorn and I did like certain aspects of his personality, except that he wanted things his way and he’d zap me with his extremely sarcastic tongue if he got peeved. And even though I’m feisty in print, I’m very delicate in real life. Like on Monday when my boss announced at the meeting that my female client had a crush on me and had called her to ask her to call when I was going to be co-facilitating meetings so she wouldn’t come to those. A couple of people snickered. I felt hurt that my boss would announce that to the group. And embarrassed. That was between me and her.

I did tell “A” about a guy who I had found on our local Craig’s List. It was listed under “Men Looking for Women” with the headline “Good Clean Fun”. Evidently, this guy will come over to your house and clean it in the nude. And he even had a picture of himself, holding his (ahem) broom.” It did clarify that there was no sex involve. Just cleaning and nekkid men leaning over your tub scrubbing his your drainpipe.

See what we’ve got to work with, ladies? I actually need a car mechanic more than a cleaning MAN-nie, but it is a little cold and snowy out, and we all know what happens when the cold air hits a guy’s tool belt. Anyways...




too much for my Craig's List ad for filing?

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty