Through random browsing of personal ads (in cruel attmept to find one belonging to a friend, with intent to mock) saw ad belonging to D. Stopped galpal from scrolling futher to take better look. Read profile belonging to bright eyed stranger and decided that simply had to make contact. And did.
Have been exchanging emails with said virtual stranger for couple weeks, and at one point, D mentioned an evening shift at a local brewery. Only option for yours truly at that point was to enlist services of Scheming Officemate and go on a spy adventure.
In person, D looked just like his picture. A-dorable. Scheming Officemate gave her thumbs up, and after drinks and dinner, two v. stealthy spies slipped out of brewery as anonymously as had slipped in. Felt v. silly and v. mischievous and had wonderfully giggly time being spy.
Confessed intrusion to D the next day who had one of his own.
D: To make a confession on my part, it was somewhat intentional. Wasn't really sure if you'd show up, but I was pretty confident that I'd be able spot you if you did... apparently not.
H: We were incognito. I wanted to do it kinda low-key. Low-key turned out to be kinda stalkerish, but what can ya do.
D: Maybe you could come by again sometime and actually introduce yourself... just pretend like we've never chatted before and that we didn't meet online.
H: Oh, you're crazy if you think I'd tell anyone that I met someone online. Nope. I'd tell them we met at AA. That works. "We met at AA." Or, a support group for midget porn addicts?
D: Ha! Ok, so, In the meantime, we should really explore this "midget porn" thing some more... I really think you're on to something there.
Whether D is Fish Bicycle material, remains to be seen. But quite the fun adventure, nonetheless. And adventures are often too few and far between. Will be exploiting this one to the fullest.
Indeed.
Dear Lisa Marie Presley,
Dig the album. A lot. Dig even more the dedication you wrote to your brother. Girl, you got yourself one smart-ass sense of humor. I get why you always look so pissed in the photos I see of you in People or US magazine.
I think we should have lunch sometime, you and I. I mean it. Some wine, a big salad. Room for dessert. I won't bring the press. And maybe you can tell me who you wrote that song about. You know, the really angry one.
Anyway, give me a call or something.
Fondly,
H
Am so v. confused.
When ringing up purchases at GAP sale yesterday, was surprised to find that one purchase, though showing up on receipt, came attached to $0 price. Cashier shrugged and said to forget it. And when was stepping off bus this morning, at never-before-visited bus stop (was taking alternate route), found twenty-dollar bill in gutter. What?! Well, yippee, but, am still confused.
After having been butt of Money Karma jokes for last long while, why, suddenly, is this girl being blessed by pennies from heaven??
And even better question is: don't these things come in threes?
Do hope so.
V. Large Lady next to yours truly on the bus this morning was producing an awful amount of body heat. On-verge-of-rain weather made it humid enough without sitting next to Pizza the Hut's ex-fiancée. Shuddered when VLL got up to reveal wet spot on plastic seat. Oh, ick!
Am horrible, cruel girl.
Subjected self to such a brutal workout last night that further punished/relieved self with hour of early morning yoga session to un-kink v. kinked muscles. Whole process was v. amusing to Reluctant Kitten who distracted concentrated breathing by viciously attacking drawstring of lounge pants. Was also distracted by the fact that, having formerly been able to bend v. easily in half, was barely able to make nose meet knees in several awkward poses. What gives? Must learn to balance yoga with every five mile run or will end up quite gnarled and un-bendy.
Nine pounds to go.
Still.
Hmmm.
Pictures are in from Friday Night Debauchery...and must say, no one can molest a bowling pin quite like yours truly. Hmm. Indeed. Am also wondering just how many photos exist out there with this gal kissing another gal just for kicks. Am v. fond of boys. Really.
Spent yesterday in sunny downtown area, wandering about with roommate. Came away a few pounds heavier (thank you, Mr. Ice Cream Vendor) and with new foot jewelry. Was a v. nice day, though still did not get any sun. Am feeling v. pasty and could really use some sort of UV light. Perhaps will take a trip to Please Give Me Cancer center at lunch.
Freckle me, baby.
Friday
12 PM: Margarita Lunch with Indie Rock Boy, et al. Consumed 2.5 strawberry margaritas.
3 PM: Champagne going away party. Consumed 2 glasses champagne.
5 PM: Ditch office with Indie Rock Boy, Totally Hot Gay Boy, Cute Married Lady and Loud Boy for downtown swanky bar. Consumed 3 glasses white wine.
8 PM: Ditch downtown swank bar for downtown restaurant, as natives were getting hungry and restless. Consumed half v. tasty pizza and 2 more glasses white wine. Photos are taken. Oh dear God.
No-Idea-What-Time: Hit lounge for bit of dancing and... one more glass white wine. End up leaving with Indie Rock Boy for pre-arranged location to meet v. young friend of IRB.
12:45 AM: Consume two Sex on Beach mixed drinks, dance v. naughtily and make out with Cute Argentinian Stranger.
2:00 AM: Ditch Cute Argentinian Stranger, seek out dancing IRB who finds yours truly's coat, gives v. sweet hug and kiss goodnight and escorts v. drunk fish out to a cab.
Saturday:
Did not leave bed except to toss cookies (such a nicer way of saying vomit-my-brains-out) and search out extra-strength pain reliever. In long, long hours of sleeping had strang array of dreams. Best one involved making out with Indie Rock Boy on swingset, like high school hoodlums. Yum.
As recovery is long process, am v. glad for three-day weekend. Though can't wait to get back to monkey job and share stories of pitiful hangovers with drinking partners. Am hoping was not the only poor fool not to remember an entire day.
H: I'm an aspiring potato.
IRB: It's okay. I'm Irish; I like potatoes. I think you're more of a yam, though.
H: Yam, huh? Does that mean I'm a sweet potato?
IRB: Ah yes - there's that dual natured cleverness again.
H: Double entendres. We have the French to thank those. Oh, and Dijon mustard.
IRB: Free for lunch? Wanna get something?
Bingo!
Being silly as can be, have bet with officemate concerning Indie Rock Boy. Was told that if no date offer is made within 30 days, yours truly owes her lunch. While am determined not to have to pay for lunch, have made no efforts toward the goal, other than flaunting natural charms. Have not even employed plunging necklines. Have even stopped wearing make-up. (Mascara and lip balm do not count) If am going to attract new bike, am going to do so without any pretense.
What you see is what you get... and damn it, you'd better like it.
Pink flip flops
Blue skies
Green tea facials
White wine
Purple People Eaters
Oh wait, nix the last one.
Had v. nice weekend spent with out of town gal pals and other assorted party guests. Was v. tame party and v. well catered. RK made a brief appearance, but mostly remained quite... reluctant.
Spent Sunday tidying up and eventually fell into full-blown spring-cleaning. Washed and ironed all apartment curtains, had Dust-Bunny Round-Up II, and even tackled the front entryway to apartment building. Hiii-yah!
Lazied about this morning until was hit with frantic realization that had early meeting and had exactly 7 minutes to be on work-bound bus. Somebody must make yours truly a super hero cape, because did just that. Will not mention that left sneakers at home and thus cannot go to the gym. But, there's always yoga. No sneakers needed.
This not sleeping bit is becoming an issue.
Even with cute little blue pill, did not sleep more than an hour or so at a time without waking to attention-seeking mewling kitten or sleep disturbing silence. Greuling work-out didn't help, nor did warm tea or hot shower. Drooping bags under eyes could hold entire wardrobe, complete with shoes. And am in possession of A LOT of shoes. Am feeling crabby constantly now. Not to mention suffering from random cold chills. Am feeling quite weary. Must sleep.
Apartment-wide tension has not eased, either. Lots of closed doors and big silences. Am aware that it is own fault, to some extent, but am not exactly sure how to go about making repairs.
Have earned two stars!
Empty rewards chart will soon be sparkling with two gold stars. Have not only stuck v. solidly to Better Eating Plan (sounds so much nicer than diet, right?) but have also gone to the gym. And not just gone to the gym, turned around and gone home to v. comfy bed, but actually worked out. Two stars! After ten such stars, will be rewarding self with white GAP sundress. And some ice cream.
Attempted to go to bed early last night, but ended up tossing and turning, waking up drenched from night sweats and freezing from lack of heat in apartment. Have not slept well in a week. Perhaps should get a job moonlighting as a cocktail waitress. At least then, would be profitable night of no sleep.
Am feeling indignant.
While of course, love Concerned Roommate v. much, am feeling somewhat aggravated over current situation.
CR and boyfriend have recently broken up (and though they break up, or come close to breaking up about once a month, am fairly certain this is more of a permanent situation), and CR is going through completely justifiable sad spell. Not unlike sad spell that went through after final J good-bye. Am usually perfectly accommodating to moping, mourning and all things break-up related, and happy to join in Ben and Jerry’s healing therapy. But right now, am feeling too indignant to be much support.
Throughout J relationship, CR was not shy about expressing just how unhealthy said non-relationship was. Knew this to be true, and acknowledged it, but certainly didn’t like hearing it. No one really likes the truth. And when yours truly went through J-mourning phase, attempted to refrain from too much moping. In return, received snide remark from CR about sleeping too much. Didn’t say anything at the time, but if am correct, when pathetic little heart was broken in a zillion pieces, became v. busy. Had social engagement of some sort every night for weeks. (And yes, Reality Television counts as social engagement.) If did any feeling sorry for self, did it in writing.
Now, CR and boyfriend had tumultuous time. Boyfriend always too busy, probably spent one day a week doing boyfriend things. CR had the title, but not his time. Their relationship was just as much of a non-relationship as mine and J’s. And certainly not any more healthy. And so, in conversation last night, CR’s offhanded, casual dismissal of the non-break up, as though were not as legitimate as her current state of affairs snapped something in my Roommate Support System. And am no longer feeling supportive. And am well aware that it is not CR’s fault. Is own stinking pride. But, well, can’t help that.
Am feeling indignant. And do not like it one bit.
Dear J,
A girlfriend, in the middle of a sad parting-of-ways, asked me if I was ever tempted to just pick up the phone and call you. I answered quickly, saying no, I'd never even scrolled past your name in my cell phone. Then I laughed. Not because it wasn't true; I never did feel compelled to call. I laughed because, saying your name felt like speaking a foreign language. Like reading the menu at a French restaurant. Familiar but removed from my present vocabulary.
You said once, that your worst fear was having someone wake up one day and realize she wasn't in love with you anymore. That used to seem so impossible. I wished I could wake up like that. Cured. To not have you my first conscious thought in the morning, my reason for every silly detail, and my last daydream before sleep.
But it occurred to me, that until she asked about you, I hadn't thought of you in days. Oh, perhaps a fleeting reminder here and there when I packed away those t-shirts you claim not to miss, or when I saw your roommate the other morning. But nothing more. And it feels normal. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I came out of that heavy-lidded Love-Coma and regained my consciousness. It must have happened slowly, though, because, I don't remember doing it. But this morning, I woke up, and realized it's possible not to be in love with you.
Love,
H
Am so frightfully busy!
Monkey job has taken on new dimension since boss's v. recent resignation. Finding self with twice as much to do but encountering less resistance from normally obstinate Powers that Be. They must be afraid that will abandon them. Had somewhat exciting chat with one of firm's vice presidents in which was told he would like to see yours truly step up to take new, more business-development-aimed role. Said it takes personality and that am well-suited, only lacking experience. Sounds like great opportunity to move from circus monkey to circus clown. Indeed. Show me the money.
Spent weekend in Dust Bunny Round-Up cleaning frenzy. Also spent good amount of time apologizing to Reluctant Kitten for prolonged use of frightening vacuum apparatus. Have yet to be forgiven. Was v. necessary though, as started to fear that would come home one day to discover that left-behind kitten fur had taken on life of its own. Cannot afford to feed two kittens.
Also, discovered in cleaning out refrigerator that, after emptying v. out-dated contents, all am left with is a clove of garlic and spray I-Can't-Believe-it's-not-Cancer. Err, Butter. Would go grocery shopping, but takes way more time than have scheduled for things other than reality television and laundry. Oh, and spent all of the week's grocery money on pot.
Am so v. grown up and responsible!
Such an out-pouring! Feel not unlike Ms. Sally Field at 1985 Oscars. You like me. You really like me!
After mulling over details of current situation, and having received following email from V. Calm Brother Figure,
I'm so sorry. I don't want you to give up the blog. That's one of the reasons I didn't want to tell you that I found it, was because I knew that once it lost its anonymity, that it would lose its reason to exist. I did not go into the archives, and I will not go onto the site at all again. Honest. I'm sorry.
have decided to stay put. For now, anyway.
Those who claim that with J being gone, the reason for this site has also been lost, are missing the point entirely. J was one bicycle. One with busted spokes and a wobbly back tire, to be sure. Certainly, that's not the best This Fish can hope for! True, would not have started this project without the inspiration (?) of J's antics, but the good lord knows, J was not the only proverbial knot this writing therapy has helped to untie. The UMF will still be fucking crazy; SAS will still be full of teen angst; Reluctant Kitten will still be testing abilities of kitten mothering; and there will be bicycles. Lots of bicycles. Perhaps not Indie Rock Boy (though, am beginning to wear down own anti-colleague canoodling rules), but there will be another. And although months and months of J-riding lessons have prepared yours truly to shed obnoxious training wheels, certainly haven't grasped all the rules of the road.
So, until This Fish is collected enough not to deluge herself with this sort of day-to-day ridiculous drama, why deprive folks who need it for entertainment value?
Training wheels no more, am still riding -- but not off into the sunset.
Look, ma... no hands!
Am thinking it might be time to give up the Fishblog.
Part (or most) of the charm of writing this has been that have been able to do so is partial anonymity. Only three or four readers, at the time of its inception, actually knew me. But in the last month, a handful of acquaintances have discovered this pink, scaly little secret and yesterday, my brother did.
Will undoubtedly feel the need to censor myself knowing that Passive Aggressive Girl and the V. Calm Brother Figure are among the readership. And then, what would be the point of continuing?
Perhaps is time for a new project.
Woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Literally. Was very confused when alarm sounded and had to pull self free of down comforters and sheets and grope to the other side of the bed. Could not, for anything figure out why had slept on the wrong side of the bed. Until I saw Reluctant Kitten. Stretched out to full length, sprawling with one white paw to each in each direction, Her Royal Highness had taken my side of the bed. Now, ordinarily, should someone be taking up residence there (be it friend, boyfriend, sibling), yours truly would get severely agitated. But RK is just so damn cute. So, instead of jabbing her with an elbow (as would do to other invaders) scratched her little white tummy, rolled over and went back to sleep.
Apparently, also woke up on the ugly side of the bed. Have spent morning avoiding bathroom mirrors and anywhere might happen to run into Indie Rock Boy. As it is, even on days when have not waken to find that have been beaten by the ugly stick, find strange inability to keep eye contact with him and even find that am unable to speak. What gives? Suddenly shy?? Rendered speechless? This girl? Some would find that impossible to believe. Am one such person. Ah, the unexplainable things in life.
Like intermittent bursts of ugly.
Have been spending days in J email absence, e-flirting with v. clever (and incidentally quite cute) Indie Rock Boy. Is absolutely adorable and fine, fine companion to pass time with in email banter. If only...
If only was not a coworker.
Have made mistake of strumpeting at work. Spent 6 months dating D and still cringe every time am forced to occupy the same general space in the coffee room. At ten years my senior, friends refer to him as the old man. Was not a particularly painful break-up for yours truly (as he was a complete moron), but D did get custody of the after-work drinking friends in the split. Damn custody battles.
So, until can find clever way in which to get Indie Rock Boy canned, will have to enjoy his delightful sense of humor, rapist wit (er, rapier wit, rather), and so v. adorable Indie Rock cuteness from afar.
What a cryin' shame.