Have been sitting on floor with pint of Ben & Jerry's and Concerned Roommate going over events of Thanksgiving holiday. Have spent good several hours periodically shutting off cell phone in indignant rage and turning it back on in pathetic hope that J will indeed call, when deep down know quite well, he will not. Phone off. But, perhaps was just not near phone when yours truly called earlier and will call back! Phone on. Horrid game.
You said you wouldn't freak out about this.
I know. And I'm not. Not really.
Yes, you are.
I shouldn't have stayed in all night waiting for his call.
As for staying in, you have a cell phone, but that's beside the point. You shouldn't have slept with him.
I know. It was just all the family togetherness... and it's not like we were drunk. It's not like it was some mistake. Which is why...
Why what?
Why he should have called like he said he would. Listen, you're not being all that helpful. I didn't hear any opposition when he was well, never mind. Where were you when this all went down?
Probably still digesting that pie, piggy. Three kinds? What were you thinking?
He wanted it. I was thinking, I, or we, rather couldn't be any more emotionally invested so, why not? Besides, it was good.
The pie? Better have been, fatty.
Pie? No...the sex. Jesus. Listen, Inner Goddess, you're really falling behind.
I am falling behind? How many valium you on?
Shut up. I'm going to bed.
He'll call tomorrow. Don't worry.
That's unusually peppy of you.
Sounds like you need a bit of pep. This Sarah McLachlan binge you're on isn't helping.
Beats Ben and Jerry's
Indeed.
Spent all afternoon playing Imagination with J yesterday. Drama of separating parents, runaway teen sisters and amazingly irritating work fuckwits had yours truly wishing to be on v. warm island drinking from coconut shells and getting sunburns in sensitive areas.
J: Can I come?
H: Yes. You have to. I'll be needing a cabana boy.
J: Right...
H: Come on! It's a big job being in charge of the tanning oil and all that.
J: So that means you'll be paying all my expenses, right?
H: Well, sure. But I may have to pimp you out to the natives for food and trinkets. That ok?
J: I guess that's fine. When should we go? I got paid yesterday...
H: Friday. I want turkey.
J: Yeah, me too. It's on!
Waking up to snow covered trees this morning only made playing Imagination all the more painful. Want to be on my island, but am not completely disappointed with current weather conditions as is v. pretty out.
J: I love how you butcher quotes.... *wink*
H: Oh, see? I DO get them wrong all the time!
J: That's OK; it was still funny.
H: Yeah, yeah. I'm retarded.
J: I know.
H: Easy now!
J: I thought you might like it rough...
H: Ha! Well, sure... sometimes. Hair pulling and all...
J: Yowza.... I don't know how to respond.
H: Nice. I win.
J: You have no idea what just went on in my head.
H: My life is going to be the next movie on Lifetime.
CR: Might be a little racy for Lifetime. I see it as more of an HBO project.
H: Fine. HBO. As long as Alyssa Milano plays me.
CR: Good call.
Am not a huge fan of the 8-5 gig, but seems there is nothing better to bring self back to earth than work. Deadlines being excellent reason to focus thoughts on something other than v. strange emotional void from parental psychosis and irresponsible weekend behaviors.
Had v. difficult conversation with NACF as well.
H: Hi, Daddy.
NACF: Hi, Trouble. What's up?
H: I know you think I'm mad at you, over the whole mess...
NACF: Well, you know I wouldn't blame...
H: No, listen. I'm not mad and I want you to know I love you.
NACF: (crying) I love you, too. I guess I just have to find my own way now.
H: (crying) Ok, Daddy, my friends are waiting. I have to go. I just wanted you to know I love you.
NACF: Love you too, Munchkin. Bye.
Felt so hollow and cold and as though heart would stop beating if I didn't concentrate on making it work. Picked up phone to call J, but as he had left short time before, knew he would either be in car or noisy restaurant with friends, felt it best to get on with evening as scheduled. Got hastily dolled-up and went to house party.
House party produced v. attractive guest who accompanied small group of us to dance-floor equipped local bar. Was fortunately crowded dance floor and was thus able to dance v. closely with said guest and feel v. nicely equipped physique. Arms. Chest. Back. Nice. V. nice indeed. Shame was when became separate at night's end. Was like Cinderella disappearing without leaving behind glass slipper. All is well, though, as have already made contact with common friend and made clever comment to keep my name in circulation. Also left new cell number. Am sneaky gal, indeed.
After leaving the bar, behavior went from party mode to self-destruct mode. Though Concerned Roommate is full of assurance that seeking physical contact to fill gaping emotional void is v. normal, am not feeling good about taking that walk of shame early Sunday morning. Not good at all. Have never wanted to be normal. Something v. unattractive about being normal. Ordinary. Common. Base.
Unattractive indeed.
UMF called Saturday night to announce that The Great Separation is official. NACF has been packing up belongings and seems as now, after twenty-six years as a pair, will now be making their own ways. How v. strange. Bizarre. Bizarre because was something to be expected, but when finally heard definitive, We are separating, yours truly went into sort of shock.
Apparently, treatment for said shocks includes drinking too much, dancing too close with strange (but v. hot) boys and making unprecedented drunk phonecall to Sure Thing Bicycle in wee hours of morning. Have spent day in entirely different sort of shock. Am not this girl. Truthfully, am not quite sure which girl to be, exactly.
Made Getting-Silly-Drunk date with J's roommate B last night.
H: I just want to get very drunk and make out.
B: With me?? I'm off at 6!
H: (laughing) No, not with you, silly. Only single boys qualify.
B: I wish I could go out and drink tonight... I really need it. But I have to stay in and be good.
H: Yeah, it's not safe for me to go out, either. Wanna stay in and get silly drunk? That way, I'll be good. And drunk. And you'll be good. And drunk, too.
So, picked up two bottles of wine after work, and headed out for v. unconventional date. En route, passed spot normally crowded with panhandlers (am not certain if is PC term, but well, don't care) and amid all the varied, "Spare change for the homeless," heard one single voice of honesty and reason.
"Spare change for Marijuana?"
Indeed. Had yours truly had any more than cab fare home from prospective drinking extravaganza, would certainly have contributed to such a worthy cause.
Spent rest of evening getting trashed with J's two roommates, watching ridiculous television programs involving men with lawn mowers on their heads. No lie. Got v. silly drunk, as was planned, but did not take cab home, as planned. J returned from Finally Complete Band practice and suggested that would be better for yours truly to stay the night. Did not argue. And J did not take the couch as is normal unboyfriend routine. Instead, fell asleep laughing and talking with J's heavy arm draped across my hip and the sound of rain against bedroom windows. Do so love playing Big Spoon, Little Spoon.
And as Inner Goddess seemed to be happily put on mute by mass quantities of wine, was able to do so without any objections. Fine, fine time.
Am v. ashamed of self. Spent solid two-hours on couch at Js house absorbed in horrible, date-a-thon reality television show. Unbelievable. While most of the world has to be satisfied with the Combo Plate, star of said date-a-thon was gorging self on Sexual Smorgasbord. The nerve! Is like eating sirloin in front of starving children in some Sub-Saharan, third-world nation. (Sub-Saharan, of course, because any further North and cows take on a sort of revered state and eating said sirloin would cause uprising of another kind.) Worst part of entire evening was finding that did not feel nearly as indignant as should have, according proper pseudo-feminist fashion. Instead found self asking,
Self?
Inner Goddess. I believe we established the whole preferential nomenclature thing already.
Indeed. My apologies. Inner Goddess, he's pretty charming, isn't he?
Yes. He is. Best not to admit it though. He's going to trounce some girl's poor little heart in about 10 seconds.
Oh, she knew what she was getting into. She'll be ok.
Just like you did? And how you were so ok?
I beg your pardon?
With J, you tart. You knew what you were getting into. How ok were you? How ok ARE you?
Ouch. Fine, but I think... oh my God, he just took that poor girl's heart and mangled it!
See. The Bastard. That's what the show should really be called.
I still think he's charming.
You would.
Cynic.
Sucker.
Bitch.
Aha! Deal with that! Amazing, the sense of gratification that comes from winning argument with self. Inner Goddess apparently not a morning person nor a fan of reality television. Will have to seriously consider upgrading to new model. If can do so with cell phone, can certainly do so with Inner Goddess. Or, so one would hope.
Have made startling discovery: Am just too perfect.
Alright, so is not exactly as it sounds but v. interesting insight into Fishy workings. Am the sort of gal that mothers (though perhaps not the UMF) describe as lovely. Or, as E-Friend, C so kindly points out, am... precious. Perhaps too precious. What? Was not aware that there was a Preciousness Scale and that somehow, yours truly is sitting at far end with likes of Shirley Temple, lap dogs and Royal Dalton porcelain.
C: Maybe you're just too precious and pedestal.
H: What?
C: You need to learn to like beer. And maybe pick your nose or something. Start drinking tequila shots...with the lemon and salt. Any chance to legitimately lick yourself is good. And any drink with juice and vodka is a no-no.
H: Just because I don't drink beer does not make me high maintenance! Though, the whole getting ready ritual certainly qualifies, but let's not bring that up. How about Bacardi Ice? Out of the bottle? Doesn't that count for something?
C: That's almost as bad.
H: Damn. But! But! I curse like a sailor... I love red meat... I know stuff about cars!
C: That does count for something.
Count for something? Hmmmm. As was v. curious as to precious status among the male population, did v. brazen thing and asked both J and S. How precious is too precious, and is yours truly really on the extreme end?
H: Am I annoyingly girly? I mean, too prim?
J: You drink, smoke (funny cigarettes), talk dirty and hook up. That's not prim.
H: Ok, so now I sound like a classless whore. That's SO much better.
So far, research efforts NOT yielding pleasing results. S, though at times comes off as the only man God forgot to give a soul, turned out to have deeper thoughts on said issue.
H: Am I too clean... too girly?
S: Um, you can be. I guess so. This feels like a trap.
H: Come on. We've always been brutal with each other. Why change now?
S: True. Ok, so I used to think you were high maintenance. Now I'm not sure if I was just crazy or what.
H: That sounds about right.
S: Shut it. I think you can come off that way sometimes. You know, the Princess Thing.
H: My friend says I need to start doing tequila shots and picking my nose.
S: Well, you're not what I would call a "man's woman," if that's what you mean.
H: Meaning? Are you saying I'm a lipstick lesbian?
S: I wish. No. What I mean is, there's a certain group of girls that I call "men's women." They do guy stuff. They just go out and hang. They watch porn and drink beer (or tequila shots, if you will). They watch football. They don't wear makeup.
H: I watch football! One of out five can't be too bad. Is this where I mention I can load a gun?
S: Fine. Anyway, these women are in a unique position to seduce men... often they become their "friends" first and then WHAM!
H: I see.
S: So you might give off a different first impression even though, in the end, you can do all this stuff. You'll just have to find a guy who can tolerate your non-beer-drinking ways.
H: It's all my other "ways" that are the selling points, believe me. What kind of prim and proper girl talks dirty? Hmmm?
S: (laughing) That is so true. What kind of girl comes over to S's house to try out his new sex swing?
H: You don't really have one. Don't tease me! (laughing) Uh, I mean, I don't know that girl.
S: See... nothin' too clean about you.
And there, from the Boy-With-No-Soul was an honest break down. Sure, this fish may look like she's not up for any nail chipping activities, but her presence on the Preciousness Scale is certainly deceptive. Am still the gal worthy to go home and meet the mother, but am also the kind to play dirty with the boys. As long as there will be beer alternatives.
Indeed. Chardonnay, anyone?
In celebration of another blogging milestone which yours truly almost let go by unmentioned... (Fish Blog has turned a whopping TEN thousand over the weekend) have compiled another list.
Things Have Learned from UMF:
1. Do not leave the house on cold winter mornings without warm substance in your tummy. Be it tea, oatmeal, or the less-than-preferred option of reheated pizza, warm tummy-fillers are a must.
2. Do not fight openly. Always use passive-aggressive techniques more suited to true dysfunctional family life.
3. Always wear two pair of socks when hiking. Don't ask, just do. You'll be glad you did.
4. Being smart is better than being pretty. Thus, do not tell your children they are attractive. Will only encourage vanity and un-smartness.
5. Right over left. Left over right. The correct way to tie an even bow on your church dress.
6. Ice-cold water is key to flaky pie crust.
7. If you want it, earn it.
8. Make a budget.
9. Being overweight makes you harder to love. But as is v. wrong to say, do not verbalize it. Simply apply steady stream of hints that family members must diet in order to be worthy of affection.
10. No matter how crazy she is, you will always love your mother and wish she were there when you are sick.
Engaged in v. girly activities with Thin Blonde Girlfriend turned out to be perfect way to spend *cough cough* sick day. Am v. happily tapping away at keyboard with daintily manicured fingers, while matching toes remain tucked away in tall leather boots. And two layers of socks, as is v. cold today. TBG was v. good Boys Make No Sense therapy partner, as well as translator for chattering nail technician, who am assuming was Vietnamese.
VNT: nod, nod, blah blah... beautiful...
H: nod, nod
VNT: Where you get them done?
H: Get what done? I'm sorry...
VNT: Your eyebrows so pretty. Who do them for you?
H: Oh, thank you! Um, I do them.
VNT: You do?! Oh, so pretty. Maybe little long right here (pointing out eyebrow error). Very nice. I cannot do mine. She (pointing to nail technician hard at work on TBG's french manicure) do them for me. Very pretty.
H: Thank you.
Who knew? Well, yes, do spend considerable effort grooming aforementioned eyebrows into current slightly arched state. But would never think to compliment anyone on their... eyebrows.
After staring mindlessly at blue-lit fish tank in blissful, slightly buzzed state, ended day with TBG's cookies in already too-full stomach, J's head in lap and Monday Night Football on the TV.
Was v. nice sick day. V. nice indeed.
Am spending the day engaged in necessary activities such as, a manicure/pedicure and NOT going to work. Called in sick this morning, and Karma has already slapped v. dainty wrists as spent good part of morning not being able to keep breakfast down. Why, Karma, why?
Received email apology from J saying how v. wrong he was and that not only did he not engage in any extra-curricular activities with OF that night but he has broken it off completely with the Office Fuck.
Told him that's none of my business and all this fish really wanted was a bit o' honesty (is like Bit o' Honey, but not as disgusting) and about a seven-mile distance from his whores. Am certain that will go down in history as the strangest non-couple ever to exist.
Attended first show of Js Finally Complete Band. Arrived decked-out and glammed-up as proper groupie ought to (complete with v. v. low cut, sheer black number), gave the boys their pre-show pep talk and headed for the bar. Was. v. unpleasantly surprised to run into J's Whoring Coworker. Wearing same outfit as yours truly. What gives? Reported run-in to both Js Roommate B, and Thin Blonde Girlfriend. A girl can not get tired of hearing "But you look better in it."
Grabbed front row spot with not-bad-looking guy at each elbow and, as sound was better than at practice space was floored by just how good Finally Complete Band was. So proud of my boys. Also, could finally catch lyrics to song named after yours truly. Am not quite certain what to think of said lyrics, but was indeed a fine song. Was interrupted by v. loud girl.
VLG: Oh my God! You look exactly like this girl on TV.
H: Oh yeah? I look like a TV star? Shut up! How am I supposed to hear my song with you bellowing at me?
VLG: Yeah! I mean, I thought you were her when you walked in. For real. She's on this new show, Hidden Hills...
BoyA: I would have said you were talking about the girl from Alias.
H: Flattery will get you everywhere. My song is over. Thank you very much!
VLG: Whatever. I'm not trying to flatter you... but you should totally watch that show. I think it's on ABC.
H: Will do. Weirdo.
After the show, J said he had to break down and load drums, etc and would he see me back at the house? Sure. Got nothing else on the agenda, as proper groupie behavior dictates. Rode back with J's buddy, G. Half way home, G got call from J.
G: Hey. Yeah, she's right here.
H: You tell him if he's bringing the whoring co-worker home, to tell you now so you can drop me at my place.
G: Nodding. Hey, J... who's with you? Oh. Cool. See you at your place.
H: Is she with him?
G: No. Their singer is.
H: Ok. Fine. Just didn't want any best-good-friend/office fuck fights breaking out.
Was in kitchen making midnight snack of turkey chili and week-old birthday cake when J came home. Followed by lead singer. Followed by Office Fuck. Um, wait. Was J not given the easy out?? What in God's name was OF doing there?? Waited appropriate time before feigning sudden exhaustion and asking G to drive me home. Lead singer came with.
LS: Please don't be mad at him. She said she was locked out of her apartment.
H: Bullshit.
LS: Yeah, but what's he going to say?
H: How about, 'Go home to your boyfriend."???
LS: He's stupid... I know. But he doesn't want to be with her. That much I know.
H: That makes the whole situation MUCH less uncomfortable!
LS:....
Indeed. What does one say to that? Sometimes excuses and apologies just add fuel to proverbial fire. Only thing ever asked of J was to keep me separate from his sowing-wild-oats lifestyle. One thing he had to remember. One thing he just couldn't do.
Fuckwit.
Levels of aggression seem to be reaching all-time highs. Am not sure whether newly-found in-your-face attitude is result of too many hours battling with Higher Ups/Closet Sexual Predators at work or unknown environmental factors such as increasing size of hole in ozone layer or acid rain.
Was walking with roommate from late night movie when heard two v. disgusting men harassing passing girls. Within seconds, we became the lucky objects of their affection. Without thinking found self turned around, confronting v. v. dirty-mouthed men. Roommate stood by, mouth open in complete shock. V. v. dirty-mouthed men also looked v. shocked as un-lady-like words made grand exit from my mouth. Ah well. If am being honest, will admit that did not feel any better after verbal attempt at vindication. But, was amusing, nonetheless.
Had tricky conversation with UMF this morning regarding Smart Assed Sibling still living at home.
UMF: quick request...
H: yes?
UMF: I'm quite sure that SAS is smoking now. Can you help?
H: With what? Teach her how not to get caught doing it at school??
UMF: Tell her what an idiot she is...she might listen to you.
H: She might. And then again, she might not. A lot of my friends smoked at that age... it's just somethin' that they had to figure out on their own.
UMF: And a lot of them probably never were able to quit....
H: I think smoking is the least of her problems right now
UMF: Maybe. But it's one that could be dealt with...
H: Listen, I know you mean well, but it is A LOT of pressure for you to hand this over to me. I don't want to be her parent. When she calls me to talk, want to be the one NOT telling her what to do.
UMF: Ok. I understand
But does she? Am not certain UMF understands full extend of her current inability to parent. Is simply not right to have to play mother to teenage sibling. Would rather be v. cool older sister, lacking inclination to judge on such issues. Do much better in supporting actress role.
Am still waiting on my Oscar.
C: You're staying at J's house for the holiday?
H: Yeah.
C: Don't you DARE do him in his childhood bed!
H: *gasp!* I'm not going to do anything!
C: I'm just sayin'
J: Shucks...
H: Did you just say 'shucks?'
J: Oh, I did!
H: (laughing) Shucks? Hey, Opie, are you wearing pajamas with feet in them?
J: I'm not wearing anything.
H: Must be warm in your office.
Am beginning to think Ms. Hearst is something of a figment of the imagination. Like the Tooth Fairy, Polkaroo or Snuffalupagus (in the early years of the Children's Television Workshop).
Patty has yet to show and am certain that the moment yours truly should step out to grab much-needed bite to eat, will miss her altogether. The higher-ups will swear she was, indeed, here in this office and well, am simply going to refuse to believe it. Seeing is believing. No one ever bought Big Bird's story, either. And who's more trustworthy than a six-foot tall, perpetually 5-year-old canary?
V. funny guy-pal, N, in strange moment of sincerity, tried to offer his own bit of unsolicited J advice. As Concerned Roommate once said, "I hate meddling friends. Anything that's for my own good just sucks." Indeed.
N: Having J's babies yet?
H: Oh, stop it. It's not like that.
N: Right. You're just... "friends."
H: Friends without quotation marks, thank you.
N: Maybe you should take some time off being friends-without-quotation-marks. Two or three weeks. You know, put some distance between you. Distance can be a really great aphrodisiac.
H: Two or three weeks? I'd be crazy-lonely.
N: So? Worst-case scenario, you'd be lonely for a couple of weeks. Best case, he gets lonely, too and wakes his ass up...
H: I'm not going to play some silly game hoping he'll miss me and then fall madly in love with me. I'm not that silly.
N: You? Silly? Never.
H: Shut up. Besides, the best I can hope for is a good drunken roll in the hay. My plan is to get knocked up and trap him in a loveless marriage. It's very Jerry Springer, I know, but so much more realistic than Happily Ever After.
N: Good luck with that.
H: Thanks.
Also discussed mutual J/Fish Thanksgiving plans with N. Said J and I were one step away from getting hitched and producing offspring.
J: What are you doing for Turkey Day?
H: I have an open holiday invite at E's folks' house in CT. But I haven't really decided.
J: You're coming home with me, then.
H: Um, that's really nice, but shouldn't you be asking your mother before bringing home strays?
J: They would LOVE to have you. You know that! And I just called my dad and he insists you come. It'll be fun. You can meet the rest of my family. And the night before, we all meet up at this pub and get silly drunk. You'll love it!
H: Well...alright then. That sounds great.
J: Done and done!
Oh God. Perhaps am really headed for psychiatric facility as result of the Almighty playing cruel joke on silly Fish. Please, let me meet the rest of your family so I can find just one more reason why I can never get rid of you. Not that have any desire to forget J. Am inclined not to worry about it, thinking perhaps will occur naturally over time. Like v. sad way in which have lost lovely summer tan. One day will wake up and realize J adoration has faded and will think to self,
Self, didn't you used to be tan?
Don't you mean, didn't I use to love J ever-so-desperately?
Oh, yes. That, too. I got distracted by my glowing white skin.
You're over it.
Over what?
Exactly.
Twelve hours later, and have still not left work. Am certain this type of schedule must be illegal or at least immoral. Who cares about overtime pay when one has NO time to spend it?
Huge deadline crunch is only compounded by the fact that newest client is the quite famous and aforementioned Ms. Hearst of black-beret-wearing, semi-automatic-weapon-slinging newspaper-fortune fame. Thus the recent obsession that have had with violent outbursts and being kidnapped by vigilantes-with-a-cause. Indeed. Am actually v. v. excited to meet Ms. H tomorrow morning. Though am not inclined to wear hat in office, wonder if would be appropriate to don a black beret for said occasion.
Had movie night with J last night. Watched newly acquired super-hero DVD with J in his sleepy, THC-enhanced fog.
J: (mumbling something unintelligible)
H: You're so very high.
J: Fuck you. (Going silent and looking suddenly very serious) Why do you put up with me? I mean who says that to you?
H: Ah, I know a good 'Fuck you" from you means, "I love you."
J: Yeah, it does. But if I knew me, I probably wouldn't be friends with me. I mean, why would anyone hang out someone so stupid?
H: A good sense of humor and pity for those less fortunate?
J: You're funny.
H: I know. If I knew me, I'd definitely be friends with me.
J: Yeah you would. But that's cause you're cool as shit.
H: Cool as shit?
J: You know what I mean. Watch the movie.
Is not even 7:45 AM and having been at work now already for over an hour (at least have had breakfast). Delirium seems to be setting in. Bonus is, am beginning to have v. meaningful conversations with self.
Self?
Yes.
Didn't you want to be a writer when you grew up?
Yes.
And here you are, at 7:45 in the morning, pushing a 60-hour week, NOT writing for a living. What is it you do again?
Well, I uh... I make pretty pictures for architects who like to yell at me and look down my shirt.
And that was in your life plan...WHERE?
Listen, Self... May I call you Self?
Yes, but I prefer Inner Goddess.
Ok, Inner Goddess, I don't like where this is going.
Then quit.
No, I mean this conversation. Maybe it's NOT what I wanted to be when I grew up. But maybe I haven't grown up yet. Thought of that?
Fair enough.
Ha! Teach you to argue with yourself! I'm a rhetorical master.
Don't get carried away.
Oh, shut up. I have to go fix the printer. I hear it making strange noises.
Fine. But one more thing...
Yeah?
Who are you dating these days?
Fuck off.
Am going absolutely crazy.
And not in boy-isn't-this-fun-to-be-delirious sense.
If work situation does not improve, think am going to end up faking own kidnapping and learning love for automatic weaponry a la Patty Hearst.
Immediately.
Think perhaps that yours truly works for the most unprofessional set of fuckwits in architectural world. Is simply not right to have to go to ladies room and cry after getting yelled at by Mr. Burns (of Simpson's fame) clone who -- when discovers he was dead wrong and yours truly was... ahem... correct as usual, King Friday -- does not apologize. Asshole.
Come on, Patty. Teach me some skills.
Was brazen hussy at party on Saturday night.
Alcohol-FREE brazen hussy. Flirted, teased and charmed and when was time to leave, had male acquaintance in tow. And when arrived at my apartment with case of beer, had no intentions of it being anymore than an after party cocktail hour and was hoping that said male acquaintance was of the same mindset. Luckily, he was, indeed. Somehow, though, cocktail hour turned into chilling on comfy couch, talking-for-hours-until-sun-came-up marathon. And when finally pried self from couch to figure out the time, kitchen clock said half past eleven. So, made waffles, took nap on couch with male acquaintance and finally shooed him out the door by late afternoon when J was supposed to stop by. (And actually have no idea if J did stop by as finished off pint of Ben and Jerry's and fell asleep. )
Was all v. bizarre as have known said boy for nearly two years and never really more than passed few moments of party-related chat with him. And as sun rose thought to self, "Self, this is v. strange." Nice, of course, though, to spend entire night with boy who had no ulterior motives.
V. nice indeed.
Spent the night last night with Prince Valium.
Not that am in the habit of downing illegally-acquired pills, but well, could not think of anything more appealing than 12 solid hours of sleeping. Besides, the valium was a gift, and only ill-bred girls turn down perfectly lovely gifts, right? Right.
Have been feeling quite at odds with self for S-related activities. Sure, am aware it was only kissing and could have been much worse, but... well, S has a significant other. Mmm hhhm. She happens to live in another state and of course S was full of "we're seeing other people now" explanations... but am not stupid. Am fairly certain Out of State significant other is not seeing other people. And so, feel scummy. V. scummy indeed.
Am avoiding going into kitchen as roommate's pint of Ben and Jerry's seems to be beckoning from freezer. Am not falling for it! Not this time! Have ordered lovely black number for company holiday party, and as luck would have it, did so in a size too small. Must immediately cease to consume high-calorie food products. Simple solution would be to get dress in proper size. But does not EXIST in proper size at hugely discounted price. And, as am v. poor at current moment, starvation and half-price dress in taunting tiny size seem to be money-saving options.
Brilliant!
In history of UnBoyfriends, S is perhaps the most infamous.
Moderately good kisser. Huge challenge for Fishy psyche. Was mutual though. S will agree that butting of heads was strange brand of foreplay. Will admit there is something quite hot about sharp-tongued arguments that lead to well, other tongue related activities. Ahem. S was UnBoyfriend filler between initial J date-a-thon and the reappearance of J three months later. S was also good friend of J. And of J's ex-girlfriend, K. How classy am I? Was fine and dandy arrangement while it lasted, but did not end well. Not well at all. And six months later, was sitting across from S at swanky jazz bar, mending proverbial fence and reminiscing. And five hours later, was standing on street corner, with idling cab waiting, and um... reminiscing.
Best part was that not only was yours truly kissing arch enemy, but in middle of said activity, who should happen down the street but J's roommate, W. Brilliant! As W is good, kind sort, did not report uncomfortable meeting to J. Though doesn't so much matter, as have already launched into horrid mid-morning argument with J.
H: S asked if we were sleeping together. I told him no. He asked if were still hooking up.
J: What did you tell him?
H: I think I changed the subject.
J: So he thinks we hook up?!
H: No. He doesn't. Don't worry.
J: I'm not worried. I just don't want it to get back to K. You know how S blabs.
H: Mmmm hmmm.
J: It's nothing against you! I just know how she is.
H: Gotcha.
J: I didn't MEAN it like that.
H: You never do.
J: Come on. I'm sorry. Did you hook up with him?
H: You're direct.
J: I'll take that as a yes.
First, am v. glad he's so worried about what his ex thinks. Fuckwit. And second, am astounded that J thinks he has the right to ask about my midnight escapades. Does J really want the answer??
Yes! Yes, I hooked up with the person you hate most in the world. How's that?!
Am v. v. drunk.
But if have done what I indeed think to be true, have just stood on corner kissing ex-friends-with-benefits boy, S, after six months of silent treatment exile.
Oh dear god, what is wrong with me?!?
What is this? Good cop/Bad cop?
Cop Who Thinks Am Funny and Charming called first. Answered said cop's questions with witty replies, and tone that says, "I'm carefree even though someone took my entire life savings and I don't even have enough money to wash my clothes," as had v. sexy voice and sexy voiced men generally like peppy gals. Gooood morning! After conversation ended and was feeling v. satisfied, Cop Who Thinks Am Stinking Liar called. THAT conversation did not leave satisfied feeling. Left icky residue, like furry sugar sweater on teeth after drinking Coke.
Am such trollop! Roommate says am in need of therapy. Am in need of something, for certain, though am not sure it's therapy. Had inappropriate-for-work email conversation with J, resulting in inability to concentrate on task at hand.
H: We have to start talking about something else. Now.
J: So how bout them Red Sox?
H: Yes. Baseball. Baseball is so very unsexy. Baseball players have bad bodies. Nothing hot about baseball.
J: Bats and balls.....
H: Damn. Ivory soap. 99.4% pure. Nothing sexy there.
J: Lets face it, I'm so perverted, I could make anything have to do with sex.
H: Yeah, so could I.
J: I can make Church Sexy.
H: What are you doing on Sunday?
J: Probably having sex in church.
H: Wanna share a hymn book?
Yes... I KNOW is v. bad and detrimental to mental health to exchange such communications with J. Especially when resulted in dinner invite. And yes, DID accept invite. And no, did not share metaphorical hymn book. Did go back to Js place after dinner, but made hummous and played violent video games. Knew that J had band practice and wondered why he did not hurry to take me home. Suddenly, were rushing out the door, late to practice.
J: Do you want to come with?
H: Sure. You know I love band camp.
J: Good. (grinning)
H: What?
J: Nothing.
Wasn't nothing. At band practice, learned that in collaboration, J and V. attractive lead singer had finally named tracks for soon-to-be made CD. Was v. surprised to find one named after yours truly. Spent entire song in half-daze trying to pick out lyrics from rest of sounds with v. noisy guitar amp too close to my head.
I have a song.
How v. sad, and v. funny is that?
Spent good part of morning chatting with UMF and explaining status of current financial crisis, wondering whether to dodge issue of anniversary entirely.
UMF: He's talking about killing himself again.
H: Jesus! I thought we were talking about me. Let's get back to me. I can do that v. well. I'm not surprised. He used to tell us kids things like that all the time when we lived at home.
UMF: That's really unfair of him.
H: Hello, Pot. I'm Kettle. You're looking v. black today. Yes, it was. Is he seeing anyone for help?
UMF: Yes. They think he's just being manipulative because he's freaked out.
H: Manipulative? He's not often that clever.
UMF: Well, he's afraid that I'm leaving him.
H: That you're leaving him or that you might leave him?
UMF: I can't stay with him just because I feel sorry for him.
H: I know, Mom. I know. Happy Anniversary.
Feel like have driven through four states and back in under 12 hours. Oh, wait. Have indeed driven through four states and back in under 12 hours.
J got oil change and picked up yours truly and headed down to meet the Big City Galpal for meeting with New York's finest. If am being honest, will admit that was v. apprehensive about impending collision between safely separated worlds of J and understandably anti-J Galpal. But all went v. smoothly.
Even Police Officer of Ambiguous Gender was v. helpful after realizing that was not silly ditz who had misplaced small plastic lifelines in whirlwind-shopping-spree-turned-tragedy.
POAG: They were used?
H: Yeah. Something like five grand so far.
P: (mouth open) That's grand larceny.
H: Yes ma'am.
Ma'am? Oh, god, please tell me you're a woman. I mean, you kinda have boobs right? Oh shit, don't look at me funny please, sir/ma'am.
P: Well, you are at the wrong precinct (seeing fish send helpless glances to J and GalPal and sensing was about to cry hiccupy tears onto non-descript police station counter) but I'll fill out the report and fax it over to the right one.
H: Thank you.
Passed remainder of chilly day eating at favorite Indian Food restaurant and laughing with two companions. Even saw much-adored pop star in Times Square. Two pop stars, if am keeping correct tally. Wooop-deee-doo. Dropped off GalPal and were ready to hit the proverbial road when:
J: Bye. It was nice seeing you again.
(hug exchanged)
GalPal: Bye. I promise I don't hate you.
H: Oh my god. Did she really just say that? Where did I pick up the sassiest GalPal in the universe? Don't laugh. Don't laugh.
J: (as soon as rounded corner from GalPal apartment) She hates me.
H: She does not! She doesn't say things she doesn't mean.
J: Yeah, but she hates me.
H: No, I think today was good. For both of you.
So, now am back at home with $32 in the bank and full inbox thinking to self that MUST not give in to urge to run to corner store for M&Ms. Sleek, black work pants feeling slightly less sleek on generously-sized fishy ass.
Credit Card Thief got not only nearly-paid-off VISA card (used at Bvlgari), but also debit card... which was used in credit-like fashion at Bloomingdale's... emptying the checking account of yours truly AND over-drawing said account which then emptied the nicely-padded savings account.
Stupid Bank Bastards can do nothing until they have a police report, which, when got the Phone that Rings Forever at the 37th precinct, did not end up filing. So, called the fine, fine NYPD who now informs me, am not able to file police reports by phone. Must do so in person.
H: They tell me I have to go back to NY, but I don't have any god damned money to back! I don't even have a credit card anymore.
J: When do you want to go? I'll drive you any day you need. I can take a sick day anytime.
H: What? I hadn't even thought... (stunned) Thank you so much for even offering. You don't know how much that means right now.
J: Yeah, I can imagine. Just let me know what day you wanna go.
H: You're wonderful.
J: I know.
H: I mean it. I don't even know how to say thanks.
J: I can think of a few ways....
H: (laughing out loud) It was a nice moment....
Is clear that have had successful results from morning Getting-Ready Ritual when find self being check out, head-to-toe, elevator-eye style... by other women. One even grinned in the, "I'd totally take you home with me, but you probably like boys" way that makes me chuckle into current reading selection and sing silent praises to new Lexington Ave Hair-Dressing Genius.
Realized at 19 that is not necessary to be beautiful if can be well put-together. Thus, the Getting Ready Ritual.
Eyebrows? Plucked.
Blemishes? Concealed.
Clothing? Carefully chosen and strategically placed.
Objective being to appear like ultimate outcome, though planned down to last detail (where, near tragically-absent cleavage, shiny silver and turquoise necklace will fall, and just so tossled hair), are instead happy accidents of frantically rushing off to place of employment.
Call yours truly detail-oriented. Say that am well-groomed or dressed to kill. But do not say am beautiful. Will only tell you to look closer.
If God is in the details, as they say, am going to die one v. holy individual.
Should bite tongue when making blanket statements such as, "I only have good memories associated with New York City."
One individual spent this afternoon making v. good New York memories on a Bloomingdale's shopping spree. WITH MY CREDIT CARDS. While yours truly spent afternoon canceling cards and mentally accusing strange people in quirky East Village bar, Shopping Spree Sally was racking up total of $1350 in purchasing fun at Bloomingdale's, the MTA and some cheap accessory depot-type store (God knows THAT wasn't a Fish purchase!).
Am in shock. Fine, fine folks at VISA have assure that after 30-45 day investigation, said money will be returned to checking account. THIRTY DAYS? Was ENTIRE paycheck gone in a blink.
Am realizing that should have said was Shopping Spree Sally getting coifed on Lexington Avenue yesterday afternoon. Damn. Maybe next time am robbed, will think more quickly. Could have had free $200 hair-do on said fine, fine folks at VISA. Indeed.
One two-hundred dollar hair-do later (Mrs. Clinton? I'm sorry, Senator, I do not recall that...) and still having refrained from Want-to-Put-My-Brain-to-Sleep drinking, am feeling well-rested and healthy, if not one step closer to glamorous.
Am only missing dark sunglasses and four-hundred dollar shoes.
Spent leisurely dinner with GalPal, eating entire contents of one Italian Restaurant's galley, and discussing current J situation and Fishy pathetic, irrational need to cling to said debilitated fuckwit. Only result was frustrating poor GalPal. Will have to sit and think up better explanations to satisfy concerned friends. Or self.
Indeed