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2006-11-18 @ 7:05 p.m.
...and over on the piano we have....

"When you feel that nobody loves you,
nobody cares for you,
Everyone is ignoring you,
and people are jealous of you
You should really ask yourself...

Yeah, leave it to my 78 year old mother to send me something like that. Thanks mom!

Have I mentioned how totally thrilled and excited my mom is that her youngest total loser/ never been married/ never had kids daughter is finally going on more than a single consecutive date not involving a married or gay man? Its like winning the freakin' Lottery, isn't it mom? She's probably working almost as hard as "A" is, at this point. Like when Handyman sent me a really nice e-mail telling me how many things I've got going for me (I do??), talent-wise. He even used the word "US". Did Married Guy ever used that? I don't think so. Anyhoo, at the end of the note, he gave me one of the hardest tasks of my life. He said "Why don't YOU PLAN OUR NEXT DATE?"

Some women, like maybe a triple Libra perhaps, would be excited by this. Like yay! I finally get to tell that guy what to do and how to dress and what to watch. I'm the queen! I'm the queen!

But to me, I'm more like WTF? I'm the woman with 10 cans of corn in her cabinets. I'm obviously not very adept at carrying out plans. I'm an artist fercrissakes. Like I'll be vacuuming and suddenly, moments if perhaps hours later, I'll suddenly be sitting there nearly naked, painting my toe on a giant canvas a'la Picasso. I have a very short attention span, ya see. Its either the bipolar thing. Or the medication thing. Or the artist thing. Or possibly a combination of all three. That's one of the reasons I'm on disability. The inability to follow through on tasks and schedules. I just can't do it anymore. It just took me a while to accept it....but now I embrace it.

But when he asked me to plan something....I froze. I really don't know him very well yet. I know what I like to do (art stuff....Nude Scrabble). But as usual, my low self esteem kind of tripped me up, as in, I didn't want him to spend money on me, even though, apparently, he does okay financially. So I called my mom for suggestions and she was like...well have him take you for a Dinner Boat Cruise. Huh? Well, first of all, mom, its frickin' November and its supposed to snow any second now. Secondly, they're like $60 a piece. Her second suggestion was a 120 mile round trip train ride to the mountains. Ehhhhh, NO!

But see, that's how my mom has always operated her whole life. She looked at men like they were Husband National Bank. She openly admits she married my Dad because he owned a house and a car. Oh...and she was preggers with me, of course....

Me, on the other hand. I'm not a financial mercenary. I'm the person who cries every time Billy Crystal goes running after Meg Ryan on New Years Eve in "When Harry Met Sally". I think that is the most romantic thing ever. I would love something more up that alley. Because I look at my mom and she has absolutely nothing at age 78. No husbands. No houses. No money. And I think, wow, now wasn't that fun? Whee! I would like to make at least a mad attempt at finding someone I have something in common with. I'm not sure its Handyman, but I am doing things with him, I've never done before like...heh...Oh my god, how embarrassing.

Okay, I'm the wittykitty, right? Funny. Humorous. But in person, I cannot TELL a joke to save my life. Not even a one liner. I have performance anxiety. So what did I do almost immediately, the other night, over dinner with Handyman? I tried to tell a freakin' joke about Arnold Schwarzenegger. Arghhh!!! And the joke was lengthy too....and it even involved doing an Arnold Schwarzenegger accent. Now what the fuck was I thinking??? Holy crap, what an idiot. But Handyman cheered me on and even laughed at the joke even though it was totally lame.

So why am I bringing this all up? Well after sitting with an e-mail to him in my computer for like 36 hours, trying to figure out what we could do (I did finally come up with an innocuous list of things to do like walking in bookstores, watching DVDs, going to the movies, hot monkey sex. Oh stop!! You know I didn't say that. Anways, after I hit the send button on the e-mail, I went and laid down in bed, because it was yet another gray, blechh day here in the Northeast. I didn't even enlist the aid of B.O.B. (battery operated boyfriend) because my mojo is kind of in a state of mojoNOT at the moment. I had only been laying there for like 15 minutes when the phone rang. It was Handy.

He liked the list (although I'm sure the addition of the Hot Monkey Sex would have made it his favorite list EVAH!!) and then he invited me to his house Tuesday. He's going to be making me a pizza from scratch (a MAN WHO COOKS??? I'm almost admitting that there IS a god, on that one!) and...and...guess who's supplying the musical ambiance? Go ahead? Guess?

wittykitty on the piano?!?

Arghhhh! I haven't played the piano in over a year. I have severe performance anxiety. I asked him if he'd be willing to stand out on the curb out by the street, whilst I played. I guess he was a little confused. I then said I'd bring ear plugs. Ha! Poor guy. He's about to see the true meaning of the Mel Brook's song "High Anxiety", first hand.

We only talked briefly because he had another call, so I immediately called my Mom and flipped the top off my piano keys and started playing "I Feel Pretty" from "West Side Story". I'm sure she was going, WTF, until I explained what I was going to be doing Tuesday night. And then she's like, "You've got to play the score from "Phantom of the Opera"!! He'll love that!" Oh great, a show about a crazy person kidnapping an innocent person, because they can't find a date. Perfect mom!

So finally after I hung up from her, I did practice some music from "West Side Story" (a tragic love story where one of them dies), "Cabaret" (a three way love story between Liza Minnelli and two gay guys, where none of them stay together) and of course "Phantom" (about the crazy masked guy who disappears under his cloak after he's rejected). I figure these shows should realllly set the tone for the evening. Right?

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty