J: Is you there?
H: Yes, I is here. Did you send me something and I didn’t reply?
J: No, I just missed ya.

Mmm hmm. Indeed.

Ack! Just got phone call from V. V. irate landlord saying wants to sit down and have talk with yours truly and roommate over fact that funds for rent check are still not available. Even called yours truly a liar! Was astounded as had ZERO idea what she was talking about. Am convinced that said landlord has bit of a drinking problem. If do get evicted, will simply pack up belongings, head for House that Crazy Built, and rescue teenage siblings from UMF and her rapidly declining mothering skills. Well, is one of the options at least. Do so hate having crazed, drunken landlord angry with yours truly. Is not pleasant. Feels something akin to some sort of irritating skin condition. Like Leprosy. Indeed.

Should not be allowed to take care of own household responsibilities these days. The result of trying to, or rather not trying at all, has resulted in sink full of dishes, ever-growing laundry pile in closet and stone cold radiators due to sudden and v. noticeable lack of heating oil. Am not used to being so irresponsible. Am convinced am experiencing only temporary breakdown and will be back to fully functioning fish in no time. Big City GalPal has decided to spring surprise visit and though do not like idea of her suffering the four-state drive to play babysitter to yours truly, am also secretly v. grateful for the help and company.

SAS is back home, though relegated to weeks of outpatient treatment, and am hoping that UMF will also be required to attend a few sessions. Is in huge state of denial over any role she could possibly play in teenage daughter’s current emotional state.

Was surprised to get v. cheery, good morning email from J this morning.

Leave them alone…
Don’t tell me you’re going to reply to it, Bo Peep.
Ah, you’re back. You’ve been quiet for days. I was hoping this was a permanent thing.
You can’t permanently get rid of your inner monologue, silly. At least, not without medication. And if you hit that reply button, that’s what’s in store for you. You know that right?
Not necessarily. You have no faith in my inner strength. One email won’t hurt.
I AM your inner strength, sweet cheeks. And we haven’t been listening to Alana Davis for nothing, have we? Don’t you hit that button!
Too late.
You are going to end up alone with fifty cats.
Me-ow.

Spent last night on-line with friend of teenage sister, convincing her to take nearly unconsciously drunk SAS home. Sister had done so much physical damage to self that yours truly was v. certain was cry for help. Could not, however, call the UMF or NACF. Indeed not, as would break every sisterly code ever written. Instead, went through other sibling. SAS is being checked into hospital-like facility at this very moment and am hoping that have done the right thing.

Was asked back to the house by J who then spent entire time chatting with waify red head, while yours truly sat smooshed on couch with extraneous friends feeling invisible and just a bit too drunk. Finally asked J’s v. kind roommate W for a lift home. Spent ride fuming and feeling just too pathetic.

W: Why did you sleep with him?
H: Uh, well, I guess he told you.
W: Roommates always talk about that kind of stuff. H, I really feel for you. You’re such a good person.
H: Thank you for being so nice, W. I don’t think sleeping with him was a mistake. This whole friendship thing is, though.
W: I’ll always be your friend, whatever you decide to do. I mean, I’ll miss you a lot if you don’t come around the house.
H: Thanks. And thank you for the ride. I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon.

Have decided to take leave of absence from J. Just have not figured out how, or if am going to tell him.

Have spent day in flurry of activity preparing for acquiring Christmas tree.

Made sugar cookies and roommate made lovely dinner for tree trimming friends. J is on his way to take us to friendly tree farm, and roommate’s brother will be along with egg nog. Has so far been v. perfect winter day. Hope to end it just as perfectly. Am going to hear Finally Complete Band make big city debut.

Will be v. telling if am asked back to Js after the show. V. telling indeed.

Have volunteered to spend afternoon at after-school program helping kids make gifts for friends and relatives for holidays. Am now wishing that had not been feeling so generous of spirit last week, as do not feel so now. Just want to sit at computer and bounce emails with J and roommate all day. Though, am starting to think that spend just a wee bit too much time talking to J, as woke up several times last night talking in sleep to him. And he, of course, was not there.

V. strange.

Felt v. much like Eva Marie Saint (though noticeably missing pearl necklace and kitten heels) tieing J’s tie for him and running hands down shoulders of new, black suit as stood in dressing room of department store.

J: So, not that it’s your call, but it really is. What do you think?
H: It’s nice. Very nice. But I like your other one better.
J: My gray one? It’s so old. I don’t think you’ve ever seen me wear it…
H: (laughing) No. Not the gray one. Your birthday one.
J: My wha… oh! (laughing) Yeah, you do.

Then, nothing. Moment over. Dropped yours truly off and that was that. Though, when he showed up this morning to pick up money (no, am not Js sugar mama — J was kind enough to run errand for Fish), was wearing ever-so-tiny new Jane Blogger T-shirt and thong (thong hiding under yoga pants).

J: Nice shirt.
H: Thanks. You should see the other half.
J: (Heading out the door. Then stops, hand on door knob.) Yeah. (pause) I should!

Have also finally managed to secure link to T, v. gorgeous disappearing act from few weekends back. Have been promised that lack of communication thus far is not due to low level of interest on T’s part but social guffaw of T’s roommate. Roommate apologized for being unaware of statute of limitations that exists for chance meetings and first dates. Am hoping communication issues will soon iron out and will be sharing v. nice electricity feeling with T again soon. There is something to be said for v. good immediate chemistry. Something to be said indeed. Like, “Wow” and “Yum” and “Shhh, don’t talk.”

CR: J will not like this new development.
H: Good. I don’t want him to.
CR: What are you going to do now that thing are better with J? Juggle?
H: Always said I should get a hobby…

Spent last night v. smoky bar with J and GuitarPlayer A with purpose of checking out band that Lead Singer also happens to be member of. Will have to agree with J that Lead Singer is much better off in Finally Complete Band.

J: I feel like the smart girlfriend. “I’m so much better for him!” You know?
H: Uh yeah. Do I know? Do I KNOW? He doesn’t belong as anyone’s back-up. He’s too good.
J: You’re right. They don’t see what they have.
H: Is this the part where I laugh maniacally and then my head explodes? Sounds familiar.
J: Huh?
H: I need some water.

Flirted like were 17 again. Bodychecking, bumping into one another unnecessarily and speaking v. close to sensitive ears in breathy whispers. Slid v. gracefully from car, though, before J could attempt any actual physical contact. Turned at steps to see him watching. That’s the ticket!

Are going shopping tonight to buy J a new suit for company Christmas party. Am eagerly anticipating coworker reaction to parading v. sexy, suit-clad J around. Beats last year’s gig with poorly dressed Drunken Irishman. Am huge proponent of idea that men come with labels. Drunken Irishman, Yeller, Commit-o-phobe, etc. Would have left last year’s model on shelf with Stalker, Lousy Kisser and Oedipal Complex.

Would seem spasmodic parental figures are not separating as had been told. No, indeed. Are divorcing. NACF has immediate plans to leave the state and head for new life in small town out West. Fine.

Strange thing giving up parenting before children are out of the house. Much like leaving game of Monopoly simply because you can’t seem to score Marvin Gardens. Do hope on passing Go, that NACF collects his $200. Might buy him a chance at seeing his teenage daughters again. Then again, might not, as abandonment can be fairly expensive.

H: Musicians, I swear! *wink*
J: I know you are joking, but today is already NOT a good day…
H: Oh, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t realize.
J: No, you didn’t. It’s not you at all. (Long explanation of internal strife among Finally Complete Band) So, sorry, it’s not you at all. Sorry, babe.

Is it v. v. wrong that “sorry” is among top 10 favorite words to hear? Especially when accompanied by “babe,” is somehow v. melodic.

Repeat with me: Sorry, babe.

Yes, indeed. Very nice.

Seems as though J has managed to polish up magic technique and weekend disappearing act has ended in graceful, “Sorry I didn’t call” emails. Have taken his explanation as one part bullshit, one part cowardice and two parts inability to grasp magnitude of situation. Mix well. Bake at 350 until golden brown. Serve warm, over french-vanilla icecream.

Am amazed at own ability to function relatively free of “what does this all mean” hang-ups regarding Thanksgiving extravaganza. While dating J, made v. stern rule that would not sleep with him, as result of ridiculous commitment fence-sitting regarding yours truly. Was v. well aware that could not handle emotional repercussions. Is horribly impossible to walk away from such an event without taking at least a bit of emotional baggage. But, either am in complete denial or have become much more dent resistant (not unlike a Saturn sidepanel) because have so far managed to come out of situation without acquiring so much as an unattractive pocket book or oddly shaped carry-on.

Is Monday morning, and am baggage free. Can’t last. Must have some sort of breakdown. Right?

Am certain am just being paranoid, but am having strange separation from logical side of self at moment. Not only did J fail to call on Saturday regarding potential going-out-and-drinking plans as promised, but when yours truly called (why not? if are friends, is perfectly legit to call, no?) got voicemail. And not only did yours truly get voicemail (J rarely does NOT answer his phone), but message has thus far gone unreturned.

What gives?

Have spent morning wandering house, making lame attempts at putting up holiday decor and succeeding wildly at finishing off last night’s pint of ice cream.

One way ticket to Fatsville. All aboard.

Why-oh-why-oh-why? Ok, not why did I sleep with J. Neither J nor myself were intoxicated. Sure, yours truly had downed half a bottle of wine hours earlier, but for the most part the let’s get busy decision was made fully based in reality. Thought to self, Self, is absolutely impossible to be MORE attached to v. nice smelling bicycle, so why not? Thus, question in fishy head has nothing to do with own behavior, but that of J. Current disappearing act is so horridly reminiscent of the v. uncertain dating days. Am inclined to risk complete alienation and call again to let Mr. Unsteady know that if he plans on destroying what have built up over MONTHS because of what happened over four hours, is one v. big coward.

Am out of ice cream.

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.