Update: According to sisterly sources, threat of Congestive Heart Failure less than minimal. Non-existent. NACF hospitalized for pneumonia (though, is not much relief). The UMF is at it again. Am inclined to think she would cease to exist should she be unable to wield the powers of drama and guilt. Like witch without ruby slippers. Powerless and frustrated with bunch of flying primates in funny costumes. Am v. glad is no place like home.

Saw v. scary movie with J last night. Note: Am not allowed, by many friends, to watch scary movies. Either end up crying (overdeveloped sense of compassion for frightened characters), or hiding face. But was Js suggestion as perfect antidote to UMF-induced stress. Spent last ten minutes of film clinging to Js hand, unable to move in seat, muttering things like, “No! Fuck, no! Oh. My. God.”

J: You did good!
H: At least I kept my eyes open this time.
J: And you didn’t cry!
H: I didn’t cry. I almost did though.
J: You did good.

Went back to Js house where we bleached streaks in his v. black hair — for purpose of dyeing said streaks midnight blue (to go with Js new, rock star image). While bleach was busy sucking beautiful color from his hair, went over Js finances and made budget for paying off rock star credit card bills. Yours truly sat busy at the computer making list of checks to be written while the rock star wandered in and out of the kitchen and living room in v. ADHD fashion, making pasta, watching Howard Stern and periodically sitting down at dining room table to say things like, “Is it bad?”

Had always thought J brought home much more bacon than self. Is not so. Simply spends as if he does. Am in possession of nicely padded savings account and J… well, J is J. Fiscal Responsibility seems just another word that makes him feel old. Roommates of J teased that was his accountant. Or wife. Felt more wife-like than accountant at the moment. Except for tax bracket changes, exchanged gold bands and well, other obvious benefits. Funny, never pictured self in sexless marriage. Found self repeating, Have not become my mother. Have not become my mother.

After two weeks and one day, the phone rang and was v. surprised to hear the UMFs voice on other end. And surprised self by being glad to hear it.

UMF: Hi, honey. How are you?
H: Um, fine. What’s going on?
UMF: (Following usual ‘the kids never clean up’ complaints) Oh, well, I’ve been in a lot of pain. I hurt my back. I didn’t want to tell you because you always say how fragile I am and I didn’t want you to make fun of me.
H: Are you ok?
UMF: Oh, well I just haven’t had much time to take care of myself, with your dad being sick. But they released him today. You knew he was in the hospital, of course.
H: Um, no. I did not. And if you say “oh, well” one more time…
UMF: Oh, well… I thought you were at least talking to your sisters.
H: No one told me.
UMF: They probably don’t care…

Am horrible, horrible, selfish daughter. Seems doctors are bouncing between diagnoses of Congestive Heart Failure and Pneumonia. Am now rethinking Declaration of Emotional Independence and selfish resolve to decline Christmas visit to House that Crazy Built. After hung up phone, was banished to hot bath by Concerned Roommate.

CR: Are you sure you’re ok? I wish I had some chocolate to give you.
H: I’m fine. Chocolate’s against the rules anyway. Thanks, though.

Sat in bath til water was cold and toes resembled dried fruit. Climbed into bed, cajoled Reluctant Kitten into joining and was asleep by 10:30. Woke every hour. Guilt is stronger than caffeine pills, would seem.

Spent lunch break buying new pair of jeans slightly too small.

Is all part of Fish’s Freak Out Diet. V. cute jeans providing much needed motivation. Am quite certain is part of some hormonal short circuit, but have also let self get away with consumption of too many food products, paired by hours on tush watching rerun tapes of Sex and the City. Resulting in Unhappy To Be Me Fish. Must drop ten pounds immediately or will fall into previous winter-is-coming rut and start storing caloric reserves like some hibernation-ready she-bear with enormous attitude problem. Not pretty.

Have also quit M&Ms. Am v. brave, must say. After entire year of pack-a-day habit, have quit…at least until v. cute, slightly too small jeans fit nicely on fishy hips, that is.

B, roommate of J, sent following limerick to yours truly this afternoon. Have not quit laughing.

I promise that you are not obese.
Your jeans still fit, without grease.
What? I think that’s fly!!
Heck, I’ll even try…
And say, I think that I’d want a piece!!!

God love ‘im. Nothin’ like a classy invitation to sex to make a gal get over her current body-image issues! Must say, did brighten dull afternoon. Indeed.

Feeling much more… stable today.

Today makes nearly two weeks that have not heard from the UMF. V. unexpected result of Manifesto. Is eerily quiet on homefront, though do periodically receive insanity reports from sisters still living in the House the Crazy Built. Will be v. pleasantly surprised if sisters make it out of teens without needing lots of therapy. Am not going to be surprised when all of the siblings publish My Parents Were Crazy and This is How I Survived books before the decade is out.

Strange Party Conversation (having nothing to do with anything, but struck funny chord)

J: (Handing fish jacket, as was v. cold outside) Here, found it. Oh, and I brought you some pizza…
H: Oooh, thanks! (stifling yawn)
J: You gettin’ tired? I think you need…another drink. Can I make you another one? Raspberry and sprite?
H: Yeah, sure… I’ll let ya do that!
Boy #1: He’s sure ass-whipped.
H: It’s nothing like that. He just knows who the bitch is in the friendship, that’s all.
Boy #1: Is that friendship in quotation marks?
H: No, and you’re nosy.
Boy #2: I’m sure you have to do something to get him to wait on you like that…(grinning)
Boy #1: Yeah, heh heh.
H: No, I don’t have to DO anything. He’s not my fuck buddy.
Boy #3: Do you have one? A fuck buddy?
H: No. And I’m not currently taking applications.
J: (Returning with drink). Sorry, they’re out of lime.
H: Don’t be. Thanks so much. Should we go inside? It’s cold out here. Assholes.

What is the point of making the lid so fucking difficult to pry off when the express purpose of medication in bottle with said fucking lid is to put self out of pain-induced, frenzied misery that renders one unable to perform certain mundane tasks such as leaving fetal position on sofa, behaving civilly, opening childproof containers and refraining from writing horrendously long, run-on sentences??? My GOD!

Sigh.

Is v. good to be a woman.

Have just returned from v. interesting party.

Was interesting because of guest list. As was invited as guest of J to party thrown by random coworker, in attendance were A (v. nice) and The Other Woman, aka Whoring Coworker (ahem). Will concede, yes, fine, the OW/WC was cute. Blonde, thin, perky. Felt like melting into beer-stained carpet for second. Could not compete with blonde, thin (though must say, have nicer stomach than one WC was flaunting) and perky. But then thought, Who’s competing? Spent rest of evening being v. charming with A.

A brought up Friday’s flirty email conversation which cleverly set theme for rest of night. But, sadly, have come to conclusion that though delightful and devilishly cute, and would not mind testing out nice lips, could never date A. Why not, picky fish? Well for starters, would have to dress A. Is really not so much of a problem as am v. experienced shopper, but really, do not need a second job. And also, found self much more interested conversing with A’s perhaps less attractive but more clever brother, D. Perhaps am finally leaving Man-Child Musician Phase. And, perhaps not.

In all fairness, D was not unattractive. Nor even less attractive than A. Just less… Never Going to Grow Up and Have A Real Job looking. Find something about a man who is not consumed by dodging reality v. unsettling.

Will put self to bed before get too many new ideas and change Self-Destructive Man habits altogether. Would hate to awake unrecognizable fish.

At work today.

And am not v. happy about it. Am fairly certain is nothing sacred left in the world when forced to spend lovely fall day at work bent over copy machine saying v. bad words.

Have noticed that said copy machine does not respond well to threats.

How fitting.

How v. fitting and how v. definitive.

Was suggesting to J that since he is in v. bad mood, he should go home and watch co-favorite movie. J loves that movie. Can’t get enough of that movie. Was completely taken aback when response came:

Nah. I need a break from that flick. I need to buy some new ones.

Um… WHAT? Who knew silly movie would become v. fitting relationship metaphor? Indeed! Would go stick head in oven, but am waiting for email response from A. Has been v. busy day for Fish.

In game of winning and even breaking hearts, beauty is not requirement some think it to be. No indeed. Is helpful, certainly. But are many more important factors. In securing attentions of bicycle, one must do some combination of the following:

laugh in charming way
(Tossing head back while doing so, as though what bicycle has said is funniest thing have ever heard, is quite effective. As is putting hand shyly to mouth when laughing. Depends on if going for brazen starlet or fading violet approach. Am prone to play up brazen as requires less acting.)

touch bicycle on arm, chest or elbow
(Do so in manner that suggests, “Oh, this is casual touch, but because you are most desirable bicycle on planet — many already assume they are — it could mean more.”)

behave as though bicycle is lucky to receive any attention at all
(They do so love to feel lucky, and you must appear desirable. This is perhaps most difficult of techniques to master. Do not over do.)

wink
(Do this as though were compulsive and quite by accident.)

do not mean more than half of anything you say
(No one likes the whole truth anyway.)

Used the above behavior on S for v. long time in sort of cat and mouse game. Must be noted that had NO interest in dating S as was v. undeserving bicycle. But, lavished attention on yours truly, and well, sometimes a nice girl can do not nice things. Like toy with silly boys. Said game lasted well over year before finally giving in and finding bicycle had worn v. soft spot into fish’s heart.
Dated S for brief amount of time, in which stopped playing silly game. Reward came swiftly.**

Was out with S and group of friends at local bar, got silly drunk and was escorted home by kind, common friend. V. cute brunette was escorted home by S. To his bed.

Smelled her on his leather jacket the next day.

** Above results not guaranteed.

Please note ironic and sarcastic tone. Am much humbler fish these days.

Last night, remembered kissing Collin.
(Feel is not inappropriate to mention entire name as will never see or speak to said bicycle again.)

Met C at all-night, outdoor fall festival in college and was immediately one of those impulsive, ‘can’t keep hands and flirtatious innuendo to self’ attractions. Would have been fine, except that C was at said festival as blind date of fish’s roommate. Indeed. Bad fish. But C was model-like gorgeous (have never seen more perfect teeth). And would had to have been a saint to resist such adorability. And besides, roommate didn’t seem to notice not-so-innocent flirting. Was challenged by C to Sumo Wrestling Event and so put on v. funny, padded outfits and wrestled (rather ungracefully) until were lying on ground with C on top, laughing and sucking v. cold fall air. Flirted with such brazen intensity that was certain was going to start fire from heat between us. At one point, remember C saying, “We can’t do this. I’m here with your roommate.” Bah. Roommate schroommate. She was oblivious.

Night of fun fall festival ended and did not see C again for several months. As had no interest in shy roommate, C did not call her again and well, did not call yours truly either. Was for the best.

Then, was v. surprised to get call from C during Christmas holiday (had not gone home that year). Dressed quickly in amazing sweater borrowed from previously mentioned roommate, and met C at theater. Barely made it out of cheesy teen flick with all clothing items still in appropriate places. C was intoxicating, but as turns out, a genuine asshole. Did not pay for movie, did not offer to drive, did NOT buy fish M&Ms and cherry coke. Indeed. Walked out to parking lot, kinetic energy making sparky sounds in wooly winter coat. And when got to cars, C was breathy and lovely. Even somewhat sinister And God, did he smell good. V. grrrr indeed.

C: Want to follow me back to our place? M. is at his parents’ this weekend.
At this point, leaned in and kissed that most beautiful mouth, full of most beautiful, perfect teeth and pink tongue. Was electric, compelling and irresistible. And taking cue from said feeling, stepped back.
H: I don’t think so.

Leaving C standing outside in foggy air (had just started to snow), got in car and drove away from perhaps most amazing night of possibility. Left hot kisses and cold snowflakes. But left with same dignity with which had arrived. This fish likes her M&Ms.

The Fish. Makin’ ya work for it since 1999.

After all magnanimous talk about working things out and being understanding, the UMF and NACF were not under same roof more than 24 hours before patience and understanding dissolved. Is true what they say about old dogs and new tricks. Am receiving detailed reports through Smart-Assed Sibling, as have not heard from UMF since was brazen enough to send Declaration of Emotional Independence last week. Is for best, am sure.

(Though does feel strange to get silent treatment from woman who feels need to verbalize everything from opinions on world crises to current status of intestinal discomfort. Is the Queen Mother of Too Much Information, that one.)

NACF: That woman…something inaudible… always telling me what to do… more grumbling.
SAS: Uh, I’ll be waiting in the car.

After several-month long literal absence, and even longer sporadic departures due to work travel, the UMF is now reinstating, with Nazi-like grace, family rules that have long been replaced by war-time martial law. SAS, in true smart-ass fashion, has been balking under orders to be home for dinner and not all at amused with UMF’s attempts to restore order.

UMF: A, will you say the blessing?
SAS: What? We pray now at dinner?

Can only imagine kind of reaction received for that little outburst.

H: So, what gourmet meal did the UMF drag you home for?
SAS: Macaroni and cheese.
H: (laughing so hard stomach hurt). Good to know some things never really change.

In celebration of wonderous blogging milestone (fishblog turned over 5,000 on the blog-o-meter today) have decided to make a brief I’ve Never list. See below:

1. As far as am aware, have never dated a man capable of writing correct version of the homophone: you’re/your.
2. Have never been sent flowers. Really, there is no justice.
3. Before last night, had never resorted to baking simply to raise temperature in house above freezing.
4. Have never been mistaken for member of Jackson Five.
5. Have never mastered use of chopsticks.
6. Per gag reflexes, have never had more than a sip of beer.
7. Have never had relationship that did not break up for Christmas. Cheap?
8. Have never been struck by lightning.
9. Outside of work, have never been referred to as “cheerleader type.”
10. Have never been able to successfully use can opener without aid.

will you take me as i am,
strung out on another man?

Changed sleeping situation again, in hopes of appealing to better bed karma. Perhaps should buy book on feng shui.

Ok, really moved bed in attempt to distance sleeping space from drafty window. Landlord has yet to turn heat on and am finding that small heat produced by RK not enough to keep out chill. Must find bicycle to install plastic sheeting on windows. Would do it by self, but well, am going for Damsel in Distress look these days. Found it goes better with fair complexion.

Had v. strange e-conversation with ex-romantic interest last night. Had brief (V. brief) dating relationship with L over year and a half ago. L was disaster in dating sense, and ended up tossing whole thing curbside as behavior was juvenile, but have remained casual acquaintances. As such, he came seeking unbiased opinion, which was happy to give.

L: This just reminds me what a decent person you really are.
H: Aw, thanks.
L: It makes me regret our past.
H: It’s ok..
L: No, it’s not. I am not proud of a lot of things I’ve done socially over the last couple years.
H: Don’t worry about it.
L: I really fucked up.
H: Some fuck-ups are for the best.

Indeed. Without said fuck up, would never have ended up with J, gone stark raving mad, and one hundred and fifty people would have to find something else to read about everyday. Really was fortunate that L was terrible with women (and terrible kisser). Fortunate, indeed.

Had most perfect weekend away.

Too-Thin Blonde rented cabin in v. cold and v. beautiful mountains. Spent two days/nights next to fireplace doing nothing but eating, drinking and laughing. Oh, and, also did leave cabin for four hour, straight-up-mountain hike. Amazing. Said hike was fairly difficult (even more so for the smokers among group) but beautiful — have never seen so many different colored leaves. Summit of mountain was only four degrees above freezing and am fairly certain at four thousand feet, was closest have been to having head in clouds (in literal sense). Have also not laughed as much in v. long time. Was probably most perfect day have spent in a v. long time.

Sleeping arrangements were not as uncomfortable as had anticipated. Did share bed with J, but was no dreadful, drawing-line-down-center-of-bed weirdness. Though, did feel a bit strange waking up in middle of night and noticing had unintentionally become “little spoon” somehow. And although are trying to keep friendship lines free from blurry, ambiguous behavior (such as spooning), did not move. Was v. cold and well, if am being honest, was v. comforting to have warm, broad chest and legs behind own. And boy smell. Even intermittent snoring not such a bad thing.

Sigh.

Must find suitable J-replacement. Do v. much like being “little spoon.”
V. much indeed.

Left the building yesterday, had just put earphones in, when passed Outspoken Street Man.

OSM: Mmm… you got a fiiiiine body.
Indeed. Was not in the mood to be side-walk harassed and did something have never done before. Actually stopped and turned around.
H: I can hear you.
OSM: Well, you got yourself a fine body, miss.
H: But why do you think I want you to tell me about it? What’s wrong with you?
OSM: Mmm hmmm. Fine. You have a nice night.
H: Hmph.

Who let the bitch out? Should have thanked the man as was probably only compliment had received all day. Instead, unleashed Xena Warrior Princess-type fury on harmless yet overly-vocal stranger. Am not proud of self.

Must take anger management classes.

Have finished watching The Way We Were.
Now I understand.

On totally different subject, am getting quite handy at Kitten-Mothering with Much-Missed Roommate being absent. With only one terrifying human to contend with, Reluctant Kitten is now spending much less time beneath bed/couch/table/anything stationary and low-lying. Have learned several, v. important Kitten-Mothering lessons in last week alone:

1) Be satisfied with Reluctant Kitten’s vocal attempts to get Fish out of bed for breakfast. Later attempts will not be as pleasant and will most likely involve pouncing and/or biting.
2) Houseplants are for tearing apart. Is rule of nature not to be messed with.
3) Expensive sweaters make preferred Kitten Toys. Is useless to buy do-dads made specifically for Kitten. Will not be appreciated. Even if contain Catnip.
4) Do not ignore Kitten. See Lesson one (1) about biting.

Have just returned from yet another successful shopping excursion. Folks at Gap would like to thank yours truly personally for keeping them aloft during these economically difficult times. No sweat. My pleasure.

Perhaps am neurotic. Perhaps? Ha! And perhaps am a game player, as some think, with regards to J. But do not think so. Feel somewhat lost over how can possibly explain such bizarre Best-Good Friendship even to those who see it in day-to-day reality. Gal Pal who am certain loves me dearly, does not support said Best-Good Friendship. And has been to her frustration (and that of many, many others), that have not heeded advice of many to simply give J up.

Is fuckwit, they say.
Yes. Agree is fuckwit.
You’re torturing yourself… letting him do this to you.
Perhaps so.

But in spilling currently overly-nostalgic fishy guts to WLE, was reminded of following scene from once v. beloved book. V. wealthy (and grumpy) landowner to his governess:

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you- especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,- you’d forget me.

Feel v. much that connection with J is physical. No, J and yours truly are not in love. But even removing all lusty factors, is love, in simplest and best form. Yes, do realize that J is not mine and that indeed, must move on. (Would love nothing more. Often finding v. comfy, good karma bed far too wide for lone fish.) Am simply worried that string will snap before am ready to be forgotten. Best can hope for is that string will simply dissolve for me, as it clearly already has for J.

Main-lining tequila.

Fun in theory, though a bit harsher in gray light of next day. Waking up on v. cold bathroom floor in wee hours of morning (miraculously in PJ’s but still wearing make-up and glasses) not exactly glamorous. If am trying to prove Over-Reactive Sister wrong, am doing fine, fine job, must say. Will now revert back to other Self-Destructive Coping Mechanisms that do not produce coma-like results or unnecessary bonding with certain porcelain bathroom fixtures.

Am still searching for some sort of mental-recovery technique that does not involve causing bodily harm or incurring substantial debt. Again, will seek therapy in early thirties when can afford it.

For now am feeling overwhelmed. Not only with Fish’s-Family-is-Crazy feelings, but am also caught so off guard by amazing amount of support received from unexpected sources. Am v. grateful fish.

Have been fielding calls from the UMF for two days. Am in love with Caller ID. Thought was safe picking up phone at work, but was wrong. Must remember to get Spy Gear for work phone.

H: Marketing, this is H.
UMF: Hi, dear.
H: Uh, hi mom. I’m kinda… (busy? completely strung out? avoiding you?)
UMF: I know you’re busy; I just wanted to say hi. This thing with your father…
H: Um, well, I can’t really talk about that here.

Is from other planet, that woman. Finally, wrote horribly scathing post to public blog, but thought better of said attempt at tearing family to shreds, and sent family-wide email instead. Will not be part of solution, told them, as do not feel part of problem. Will also not be home for holidays as desperately need break from all of this. The end.

Perhaps will spend Christmas in sunny, tropical climate. Or in apartment with Not-as-Reluctant Kitten. Suppose it doesn’t matter.

Had most amusing e-conversation with J this afternoon. Was really v. big mistake to become best friends with bicycle that fell in love with… as cannot seem to part with him, even if only for these delightful, and wonderfully passive-aggressive displays of emotional fuckwitism.
(New word. Will make part of vocabulary. Fuck-wit-ism.)

H: My sister thinks I’m an alcoholic junkie.
J: I hope you just laughed that off…
H: I did, but I’m an alcoholic and probably in denial.
J: Yeah, you really have a problem. Here, call this number. It’s a teen drug/alcohol/suicide hot line. Call quick, I’m worried!
H: They told me to go get knocked-up and then call back. I wasn’t qualified.
J: Need help?
H: Sure! Got any hot friends?
J: I don’t know… Do I?

BAM! And suddenly are back to Saturday night’s Flirtatious Fish incident. Am v. well aware that J wants to hear that yes, do indeed think A is adorable and there were indeed miniature spark-type emissions on night in question. But will not do it. Am smarter fish than that. Will wait for A to say it first.

Just received e-mail from V. Calm Brother and was not very calm note at all.

Seems sisters have done far-too-good job keeping lid on UMF/NACF problems and has just now leaked to final sibling. VCB is quite angry that has been left out of information loop. Was accused of being sorority ring leader. Is there no end? Thought was right thing to do, keeping responsibility to self. Am feeling quite battered. Must harness bad energy, though, as have gained substantial weight in last four weeks over inability to cope without two, new best friends, Ben and Jerry. Feeling battered and overweight. Horrid combination. Like cottage cheese and fruit.

J still not returning e-mail.

Fuck.

Knew before going to beer bash that Guitar Player A (A, for short) would be in attendance. For this reason (and repressed, subconscious desire to make Js head spin with Oh-My-God, I-Let-Her-Go regret), made every effort to look stunning. Ride showed up twenty minutes early, so ended up being stunning once-removed, but was good enough.
Beer bash was, to great dismay, too crowded to find A and friends. Had long girl talk with girlfriends of J’s roommates and was finally settling into idea of flirtless evening when saw J off at a distance talking to A. Made Mona-Lisa like eye contact with A and was waved over. Bingo. Was told I looked “smoking.” Brilliant! Stood for next half hour with A’s arm ’round waist, laughing and flirting. Lord, am quite charming at times. J made several blatant attempts to redirect conversation or lure attention to himself, but was being quite persnickety and was having none of it. Was useless flirting as A is not only J’s guitar player but v. close friend and coworker. Still, felt good and necessary. Has lovely blue eyes and brightest white smile have seen in long time and was v. worth all primping efforts.
J has been ignoring e-mail attempts all day. Wonder if am on black list. Sigh. Oh well.
Thought was going to be fired this morning, too. Received “be in my office first thing Monday morning” e-mail over weekend and nearly had heart attack. Turns out, did not get huge deal was working on. But instead of being fired, got pep talk about not being discouraged. Discouraged? Forget discouraged… try TRAUMATIZED. Will make note to self to avoid reading work e-mail over weekend.

Can hear ridiculously good-looking next door neighbors watching Sunday afternoon football game (favored team must be winning). Are very loud. Only thing louder than said activity are newly-wed, upstairs neighbors having sex in bathroom. RK is napping in sunny spot on bed and am fighting strong desires to join in nap time festivities. Despite weekend of relaxation with Gal Pal, am feeling v. tired and not much like self.

Had v. first passive-aggressive spat with J last night. And though was tipsy, was unfortunately not drunk enough to have blocked it completely from memory. Should be feeling fine about spat, as had to have been what was going for when 1) blatantly flirted with cute Guitar Player at beer bash (while clearly agitated-looking J stood by) 2) took wrong side in roommate/girlfriend feud and 3) left J with feuding roommate and girlfriend to attend other party. Was obviously the responsibility of yours truly, yet am refusing to pick up cell phone and make amends with “sorry about last night/ hope we’re cool” phone call. Just can’t seem to do it. Could not seem to be able to show up to watch football game either. Am clearly not missed, though, as phone has not rung.

Am purposefully destroying best-good friendship? Don’t know. Making waves has never been tendency. Perhaps is why am feeling so bad. Am supposed to go away on nature trip with J and feuding roommate, B & Thin Blonde Girlfriend next weekend. Am feeling v. apprehensive.

And hungry. Time for snack, and then perhaps nap.

Am wildly successful Kitten-Mother!

RK has habit of jumping up onto the bed while am sleeping, and usually try not to move as am attempting to foster good, comfy feelings between once-wild kitten and yours truly. But, surprised self and Kitten when reached out to pet her. Kitten surprised yours truly when she did not run away. Had v. long purr and cuddle session at way-too-early o’clock in the morning, shooed then-hyper kitten out to living room to ravage houseplants and returned to sleep. Had yet another long purr and cuddle session after alarm went off. Look for new book on successful kitten-mothering at book retailers soon. Am brilliant! She loves me, she really loves me. Or loves to get scratched in all the unreachable itchy spots. Either way. Will take it.

Gal Pal is coming in from the City today for yet another weekend of uninterrupted doing-nothing kind of fun. Are becoming v. good at this, she and I — V. good indeed.

Break-through conversation with v. Wise and Lovely E-Pal:

H: Why am I so ridiculous? WHY? Because J is HOT? What kind of reason is that?
WLE: No… it’s not due to hotness. You’re invested. And you know deep-down he is a great guy.
H: I know, I know. But it’s so v. awful.

Was whimpering over margaritas last night about this very thing. J, for all fuckwit, idiot tendencies is just too important to this silly gal. More important than breathing, it seems. Give up J… give up breathing. No two ways about it. How did this happen? Is unprecedented, really.

H: This has never happened before. Am usually so selfish.
WLE: Maybe this recently-discovered side of yourself is also something you like… Which you can attribute to J.
H: Oh my god, you’re good. WLE, the therapist.

Perhaps this sad, inability to part with most recent un-boyfriend has nothing to do with fact that J is gorgeous, or funny, or generous, but fact that makes yours truly feel all of above things. J does make me the best version of me. Most well balanced (perhaps not sane, though), sensitive and unselfish have ever been. Am horribly frightened that if were to give J up, would never feel quite right again. Sigh.

God love the Wise and Lovely E-Pals of the world. Indeed.

Am fighting battle with self-destructive coping mechanism and cannot say am coming out the victor.

Lunch yesterday was a pint of Ben & Jerry’s (cookie dough) over a pile of overdue bills. Dinner, margaritas with Gal Pal over pile of overhashed girl talk. And breakfast, assuming is actually most important meal of day, was biggest disaster. While RK devoured bowl of expensive gourmet tuna fish (Am horrible Kitten-Mother and forgot to buy kitten food again), yours truly settled down to left-over apple pie and french vanilla ice cream. Is disguisting, I know. Am avoiding having confrontation with bathroom scale.

J-Brand sympathy coming in handy once again. As was on his way to Finally-Complete Band practice, J dropped off favorite movie, leftover apple pie and icecream. Is good for some things, that one.

On way to work, passed mainly unattractive, overly dressed man in suit on sidewalk and nearly took v. sad looking fellow home with me. Why? Sad man smelled like chocolate. Don’t know if is self-destructive coping mechanism at work, but producers of pherimone-smelling colognes had wrong idea. Chocolate. Make any poor sap smell of it and even v. picky fish will ask him home for some Couch Capades. Indeed.

Will start self-controlled eating habits again tomorrow. Promise.