Spent most of evening unpacking, drinking hot tea and talking to Reluctant Kitten. Something quite wrong with that, must say. Was v. glad when roommate and funny gal pal came home with sweets and movies. Frozen yogurt was chocolate-laden and the movie, v. v. sad.

Quite nearly perfect evening, minus discovering self talking to kitten as though were able to respond. Have found is huge a waste of time asking Reluctant Kitten questions. Either RK assumes questions are rhetorical and thus does not answer, is ignoring yours truly, or has not reached necessary stage of development for language skills. Am guessing is last option, as RK is still quite young. Will consult newest kitten-mothering books available on said topic.

Second problem with new living situation is v. lovely roommate will be taking multi-week cross-country trip and will be sorely missed. Who will tell me not to call J, pour me far too much wine and get v. silly with me in gal pal’s absence? Have already established that RK is not up to task. Must post ad for Un-Roommate. Is the only solution.

Am suddenly remembering phenomenon of Un-Birthdays from elementary school years. If (like yours truly) a child was unfortunate enough to be born in summer time and so did not, in course of school year, get to have cupcake birthday celebration on your ever-so-special day, there was an Un-Birthday assigned. It’s not your birthday, but you celebrate anyway.

Point of above sweet, yet random trip down memory lane? This fish has had just too many Un-Boyfriends. What is an Un-Boyfriend, you ask? He’s not your boyfriend, but you well… celebrate anyway. Though am not saying Un-Substitutes (Birthdays and Boyfriends) are entirely a negative thing, perhaps am simply reaching point where substitutes are not cutting it. Really do love the cupcakes and all, but would really like to have a real, it’s-my-actual-birthday party with cake, candles, streamers and maybe some fireworks.

Indeed, god damn it.

Would really like some fireworks.

Hurrah! Now have wallet back in possession and am quite annoyed to note that was found ON very airplane I suggested Unhelpful Airport Employees search that night. And what’s more, there was no money inside. Ok, so did not have any in there before, either. But would have been nice to find some.

Spent evening with J. Yes, yes, am quite aware that promised would not have dinner with him as he had requested. BUT did not have dinner as “dinner” turned into simply hanging out. Which then turned into yours truly falling asleep on comfy leather couches. J said was absolutely necessary to come hang out, as Fish was greatly missed by Roommate and his Thin Blonde Girlfriend.

H: Oh, THEY missed me, did they?
J: Yeah, kept asking when H was coming home because they wanted to play.
H: Hmmm.

Was one of those strange evenings where J found every small reason to touch me and kept looking at Fish v. strangely. Did not play silly J game. For once. Am v. proud of self for exercising such self-restraint. Especially with Roommate and TBG NOT excercising restraint and being quite cute. Damn them.

TTB: When you come over next, you’ll have to bring pictures!
H: Will do. Good night, guys.
R: Welcome home… I’m glad you’re back.
H: (with sidelong glance at J) Thanks. Good to know someone is.
J: (oblivious) …

Sigh. Would be fine except had lovely Everything-is-Perfect dream about J afterwards and woke up v. disappointed. Must stop having dreams. Most recent one about marriage to MacDonald’s Hamburglar was most distressing.

One (1) Passport, two (2) packs chewing gum (of minty variety), three (3) new CDs, and four (4) Tylenol PM in spiffy, brand-new day bag and am off on Forget About Debilitated Fuck-Wit Holiday.

Co-workers seem eager to get rid of me. Has mood been THAT foul?

Next irrational thoughts to be posted from foreign land.
Excitement!

Have received “please forgive me” email from J in response to “you’ve hurt me just one too many times” message sent to him this morning. Don’t quite know how to respond. Inclination is to leave on holiday and let J stew in self-made sorry sauce.

Have received second “do you hate me” email from J. Am certain will break down and respond by end of day, at which point J may have had enough stewing. Who knows. At any rate, have had strange heart palpitations all day, clearly result of current mini-trauma. Miss v. much being mutually in crazy state of adoration with J and having hard time adjusting to newest phase of being.

Feeling like jello left out in warm room. Can’t quite hold the shape was molded to…am beginning to wobble. Oozing stage is next.

Was supposed to spend last evening in town with J. Even after horrible email that left off in yours truly writing “screw you, phone boy” (J is in telecommunications business) he was expected to show up to, in the v. least, say goodbye.

Got SMASHING drunk (among other things) in anticipation of awkward meeting. But in reality, got smashing drunk (and other things) for nothing. Well, not for nothing…for brief phone call at 11 from J saying practice had run late (is also musician) and felt simply horrible that wouldn’t see me before long holiday. Was too unsober to say anymore than “fine,” hang up, and subsequently turn off cell phone for night. Am expecting apologetic email any moment, to which will send scathing reply. Am v. tired of mattering so little. If J had wanted to see me, 11 would not be too late to do so. Am no fool.

Am huge, pathetic, destined-to-be bitter old maid fool, if must be completely honest with self. Am so angry that angry isn’t even good enough word to use. And am sad.

Do not react well to sympathy, have noticed. Am fine under most horrid situations until some kind soul (friend, roommate, stranger on internet log) expresses they are sorry for me. Then, feel have permission from entire free-world to feel weak and forget being forbearing, and ultimately and inevitably spend next half hour or so in hot shower crying.

Had good cry last night. As well as several v. large, v. strong margaritas made by wonderful gal pal. Am feeling better, but finding self doing lot of sighing.

Sigh.

Am dizzy. Head is spinning.

Received email from J asking if would be alright to talk about something. Thought, as heart did several cardio-kickboxing leaps “God, if is bad talk, am headed for oven.” Wrote, “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

ANYTHING BUT THIS.

J has been seeing someone at work. Is nothing, really, he says. And of course made certain to reiterate fact that has no plans of ending single status with any girl (am included in such category) any time soon. Told J he was dizzying. Good, he says. Likes to be a little hard to figure out. Bugger off! Little hard to figure out? Can see right through you, you debilitated fuckwit!

Is v. difficult being in love with debilitated fuckwit. V. v. difficult.
Is perfect time for holiday.

And shopping.

Am beginning to think horrible public transportation has perks.

At stop after mine, four people got aboard damp bus. Nervous Mother Type shaking umbrella, with two hastily-groomed but adorable daughters. And Beautiful Bus Boy. A new face. Or perhaps mine was new, as was late for work and took different bus. At any rate…was lovely face whether new or not. There being an empty seat to left, and one to right, Hastily Groomed but Adorable Girls sat on either side. The younger clearly not comfortable seated next to strange girl with sensible shoes. Took off headphones (normally against policy to remove barrier, as do not like to be spoken to on public transportation–unless will result in Sliding Doors-like encounter with charming Scotsman) and asked if young one would like to trade seats. Happily, we swapped. BBB had taken seat somewhere near back, but did not look as did not want to appear as though actually had appreciated BBBs beauty. Am not gawker.

At very next stop, older couple got on. Offered up seat to grateful grandmother figure and made way to back, where, only empty seat (ok, not ONLY, but best!) was next to Beautiful Bus Boy. Tried not to stare as inhaled his lovely hot boy smell. YUM.

BBB: You gave up your seat twice. That was nice of you.
H: I’m a nice girl. I’ll remember to thank my mother.
BBB: blah blah blah something flirty blah blah
H: Laugh, laugh, please don’t notice shoes, laugh, laugh

Conversation continues in above manner for some time. Was delighted to be so brazenly flirting with strange new face at such early hour of morning. Then,

BBB: Could I call you sometime?
H: No. (is instinctual, perfunctory response, immediately regretted)
BBB: Ok… well…
H: Why don’t you give me your number, instead? (Brilliant!)

Thus, new hot fellow’s phone number stored carefully in cell phone, trotted off in sensible shoes. Day has NOT gone downhill since, so am now scampering off to lunch to postpone and work-related landslides.

Received v. threatening “will kill your pet” letter from cell-phone friends today, saying were going to cut off service. As always pay bills on time and never forget anything (in perfect world), panicked and called as soon as arrived at work. As it turns out, was no problem after all: had received bill payment early (thank me v. much, Ms. H), but would like to verify new mailing address. Is tragic when one must send Mobsters and death threats (or cellular service suspension notice) for something as simple as change of address. Bastards. Am not fond of starting my morning in Rumplestiltskin (guess my name or I get your kid) kind of way.

Reluctant Kitten took her breakfast in kitchen this morning. Triumph! Fuzzy Energy Source followed yours truly into kitchen (first mistake) and waited while food dish was filled (second mistake). From now on, Reluctant Kitten will be dining in kitchen and not in safety of bedroom. Hiding time over. Not one to threaten small animals with starvation, am using cue that RK is now brave enough to be lured out for such things. Next big move is kitty litter box. Am not thrilled having it so near to sleeping area, as it is.

Am spending evening before holiday departure with J. Have promised to bring left-over party booze on condition that J provides previously-discussed lampshade (which per prior email-flirting, will amuse J and wear — not as accessory, but as entire outfit). Should be interesting night. Will threaten to put entire self in oven (not just head this time) if does not turn out well. Enough dilly-dallying.

Am going on holiday on Friday. Having mixed feelings. Will be spending a few days in Unhinged Mother Figure’s London flat, a day of relaxation in Bath with Very Calm Brother Figure and then off to Paris and Madrid. Did I mention entire holiday will be spent with UMF?? If not — there it is — cause for mixed feelings.

Am debating whether or not to drag along laptop to chronicle events of holiday, as am sure will not be without drama, or at v. least, pining thoughts for lovely J.
At least trip will be sans Neo-Alcoholic Cheating Father, and hopefully without mention of him as well. Turns out, UMF and NACF have agreed to marriage counseling. Indeed.

Can forsee therapy session:
UMF: This isn’t working. I give up.
Therapist: We haven’t even begun…
UMF: Yes, but… well, he’s a fool as you can see.
NACF: Woman…
UMF: Yes? Something to say? (to therapist) See? Hopeless I tell you.
Therapist: Indeed.

Have washed glasses (margarita glasses, shot glasses, wine glasses), recycled copious amounts of beer bottles, taken out trash and aired house of heady smoky haze. But still have not gotten out of pajamas. Day has passed in naps punctuated by trips to kitchen for bread & cheese or left over party odds and ends. Fine day.

Was three or four margaritas under by time J showed up to tragically un-exciting party. Am convinced am not able to throw party without weather/tragic events putting damper on situation. First thing out of Js mouth when through the door with his entourage?

J: You’re drunk.
H: Am not.
Entourage laughed. Thin Blonde member of group announced that must be, as can normally come up with much wittier comeback.
H: Fine. Am drunk.

J pulled up chair and emptied pockets of smoking paraphernalia. “Now let’s get you stoned.” Sat down next to Thin Blonde Girlfriend and didn’t argue. Have no idea who ate contents of v. large M&M bowl. Am pretty certain was yours truly. Am avoiding going into bathroom, as scale will want accounting of party behavior. Will shout at evil scale that is not my boss and is evil task master. But will eventually fess up, am sure.

Before leaving, J came to give farewell embrace. Ended up very close, with mouth touching Js lovely ear. Had dizzying flashbacks of first J kiss and fumbling around in bedroom months ago. Thought, “Want to kiss lovely ear. Want to take you in bedroom now.” Said, “Thanks for coming.”

J can walk into room and make this good girl think many thoughts that good girl should not think. Thought many of said thoughts, sat back down on couch and finished bag off too-salty chips. Blast.

Am thinking of making trip to New York for party on 20th. Want to meet faceless folks, sources of many hours of entertainment. And also don’t want to meet faceless friends… am fairly certain am going to be much less of success in person. Will see.

Has become clear that choice of clothing is, indeed, most important factor in one’s career.

Or would certainly seem so. Firm made up of (for most part) Pedantic Aging, Over-fed, White Male Egos pays absolutely no attention to words spoken, or work produced by yours truly. BUT each and every article of clothing requisites examination and demands to be commented upon. On regular basis. Last week was, “You look like Pocahontas today.” “Poca-who?” Said this not out of ingorance, as am familiar with legendary Native American Herione turned British Court Buffoon (poor gal), but out of feeling that, PAOWM’s should not be making such comments as, well, has nothing to do with job description or performance. Bugger off, old fellers. Worst was, being asked by Very High Up Authority, mid-way through marketing meeting, “H, how are you?” “I’m well.” “Well, you look well.” Dirty old man.

Suffered through lecture by Unhinged Mother Figure yesterday on reasons am failing at kitten-mothering. Am happy to have ignored UMFs advice and found that own kitten-mothering tactics have paid off and Reluctant Kitten now finds litterbox to be suitable substitute for v. expensive, destroyed wool shag rug. Finally. Expensive Kitty Doctor cashed check yesterday. Am poor. V. poor.

As for J…well, have been in constant contact again for last few days. J is flirting shamelessly like he used to. Am trying not to think about it. Will see him at party that am hosting on Saturday night. Hope stress-induced complexion issue clears by then, though not likely to. Bother. Am too old for these ridiculous insecurities.

Damn it all. Got on scale again. Hope does not become addiction. Have plenty of vices as it is without strange compulsion for weighing self.

Was up long before dawn…not by choice (although am becoming more of a morning person). Reluctant Kitten seems to be finding no use for litter box and instead has claimed white shag rug at bedside for toilet purposes. Woke up to not-so-nice smell and flash of fluff darting under bed. Gross. Am finding many new, inappropriate nicknames for Reluctant Kitten. Perhaps should not share so many of them with her as am shocking her delicate sensibilities. Should have thought of that, though, before soiling $300 area-rug, hmmm?

Walked home from work last night with eyes half shut — blinding headache, setting sun, foul mood residue from day’s work. Didn’t see J until he’d called out several times. Was surpised to see him as am not usually crossing paths with work-day-J (must have been on his way home from haircut, as looked all neat and trimmed). Stood on sidewalk for several seconds before recognizing him. J waved me over and offered a lift. Didn’t want to say yes… looking as bad as I did. Do not wear foul mood residue well. Bad color on me. Like mint green. But headache (and dizzying J smell) won over and let him drive me home. Went in after short dialogue, prepared meal of salad, multi-vitamin and two sleep aids and brought day to official close long before 8 pm. Was lovely sleep until kitten shit incident.

Am horrible kitten mother.

New living situation presents one v. annoying problem.

Roommate owns scale. Never had one before as can easily become panicked by irritating, pulsing digital numbers announcing my sins of gluttony (suffer from great affinity for M&Ms). Have tried ignoring its existence, but was overcome with curiosity this morning after stepping out of not-nearly-long-enough shower. So, tried to make friends with white, blockish digital scale. Cooed and coddled cold, horrible enemy of self esteem and finally (after squeezing all water from hair, as adds unneccessary poundage), tapped scale with toe and waited for the red zeros to halt in their blinking. Stepped up, ready to smash beast with blowdryer or other small, yet threatening appliance, and to utter shock, was at acceptable weight. Am satisfied. Will never have to weigh self again. Should not have to face such apprehension on regular basis. Am amazed people own them on purpose. Horrid things.

Am sure irritability is only enhanced by fact that newly-acquired Reluctant Kitten seems to be paranoid skitzophrenic. Am used to having relatives in such predicament, but was hoping kitten would be somewhat normal. Am taking many deep breaths. Kitten will love me.

Eventually.

Was thwarted by J in my attempt to leave DVD at home. Clever bastard picked me up. Came in to make acquaintence of Reluctant Kitten, walked right over to bookcase and retrieved movie. Curses!

Am far too tired to neurotically dissect J-standing these days. Was calm event. Watched favorite movie, J got stoned. Normal “us” things. Feel v. strange ambivalence towards J as of late. Is product of his, am certain. Am just tired of not getting what I want, if am going to be honest. Am reasonably attractive fish. (Above average in most but cleavage department. Have reconciled self to that.)
Am used to winning over desired bicycle (and then not wanting it — is illness, I know)… and J is just not obliging.

Would be much easier being in relationship where am adored by bicycle. Or at least noticed. Used to catch J looking at me for no reason. Now, barely get his attention at all. Used to wonder if maybe gaining/losing weight caused shift in attraction factor. But must admit, J has simply changed his mind. Suppose should just accept unfortunate metamorphosis and move on. Will eventually.

But not yet.

Had wonderful weekend!

Much love to the Big Apple, to Dennis Rodman look-a-like at door of club and to the startlingly attractive Transvestite who announced to line of club-goers that he/she loved my (very tricky, Indian beaded) top which was clever enough to pull off hours of dancing in. Congratulate myself and also gal pal for having engineering skills adequate to tie the backless, barely-there top into place.

Got phone call from J as was leaving City. He was surprised to hear that yours truly wasn’t in town. Hmmm. Surprised? Don’t see how as told him half a dozen times was going to go. Blame forgetfulness on the drugs, says girlfriend. Will do. J emailed me this morning, wanting to see me. “Would love for you to come over tonight if you’re not busy.” AM busy. Am taking newly-acquired, frightened and v. sick kitten to Expensive Kitty Doctor tonight. “Stop by after, if you want.” Am wondering what the catch is. Perhaps J really does want to see me. Or perhaps just wants favorite DVD to borrow. Am feeling resentful. Will purposefully forget to take DVD along.

Am worried about sick kitten. Poor thing. UMF assures me that am very good at playing nurturing, mothering role and all will right itself soon. Feel slightly better. Is nice to think of oneself as good nurturer… could have been nurse if could stand needles and such.

Am throwing party this weekend. Hope guests bring alcohol as am pretty certain after Expensive Kitty Doctor takes his cut, am going to be very poor.

Am currently being lectured by Unhinged Mother Figure on issues of responsibility. Irony is a sweet, sweet treat. Is driving me nuts about not owning proper, adult furniture. And now wants me to go home and retrieve dog that have had since was 13 and import the poor, old thing to current city. Am not equipped to take in arthritic, ailing canine — would break what is left of this heart as well if said elderly dog were to expire on my watch. If am going to get cat, says UMF, can certainly take dog. Hmph.

A. put up curtains last night. Took no time at all. Also took no time at all for roommate and A to become mutually, and emphatically charmed with one another. Age-difference will prevent anything more than mutual attraction, but was v. sweet. However, am a wee bit put off. Even envious. Am used to having A. follow ME with puppy-dog like adoration. Is very nice bicycle. Will have to find one like that. Only older.

Made no effort, except telepathically (see ESP Conversation below), to contact J yesterday. Nor did yours truly do so today. Am very proud of self — and slightest bit lonesome, if compelled to be completely honest. Is not as noticeable, though, as am very busy with new and improved job situation. Been desgining half-assed publications for hours. Love getting caught up in semi-creative efforts.

Had startling conversation with Unhinged Mother Figure (UMF) this morning. Is really quite unconscionable to be required to address such serious topics as “Mom, please get a divorce” and “Please take medication” all before lunch. But did so quite valiantly. Was told by UMF that it was “nice to hear such mature reasoning.” Yes, well… have had loads of time to think it over and discard not-so-mature ideas.

Am looking forward to spending weekend in BigCity with gal pal, drinking, dancing, indulging in anything but bicycle riding. J will be in the great-out-of-doors with well, don’t know with whom. Am quite sure, though, will be with all burly males who, having met yours truly, will bring to light the error of his ways. And then will, on Monday, receive the ever-so-necessary “let’s start again” email.

Hmmm. Yes, this is it. Have gone off deep end of rational thought and am flailing about waters of the completely unhinged. Good thing am terrific swimmer.

ESP Conversation with J:

H: Hi J… where’ve you been lately?
J: …
H: I’m going to stop calling you with my mind if you refuse to answer.
J: …
H: Once last chance, buster!
J: ….
H: Oh, I suppose I could hold on the line a while. American Idol isn’t on for another couple hours…

Hooray!
Am now in possesion of new corner office space and unattractive, yet comfortable (and v. ergonomically correct) chair.

J: Things are looking up for you.
H: At least work-wise.
J: What does that mean?

Did not explain to him, of course. Never do. Is my own fault for being so accommodating — this is clear. Am not likely to change, though, as is personality trait. Simply must find bicycle who will not take advantage of said willingness to forbear. Isn’t completely unpleasant being such a glutton for punishment, afterall.

Parents still traveling, resulting in near-complete lack of communications. V. nice. Have decided, after careful consideration, that cannot completely divorce family. Instead will seek some sort of “amicable separation” (the kind enjoyed by those like Angelina & Billy Bob Thorton, or the pre-divorce Nicole and Tom). These sorts of things often do end in divorce, returning of blood vials and swapping of children (irreconcilable differences, of course), but am counting on Mid-Life Crisis Nightmare Mother and Neo-Alcoholic Cheating Father to get selves un-fucked up in timely fashion.

One must cling to hope.
And belief in Easter Bunny.

Am renting bike from work to fix curtain problem.

A. actually volunteered, seeing my distress over situation. Have been singing his praises ever since. Quite a nice gesture, do think. After Thursday evening, should have curtains on windows and one less thing to be anxious mess about.

Fighting parents are in the same city at this exact moment. Most romantic city in world, supposedly. Perhaps they should not inhabit it together as will muddy reputation of fine Western European city forever. There will be lawsuits, disappointed lovers and irate travel agents for years to come. Couldn’t be prevented, though. Simply giving the French one more reason to hate Americans.

Conversations with J have centered around… well, nothing more than meaningless chit chat. Had resolved not to contact him, but had no choice as needed roommate’s property back. TOMORROW, will not contact him. New resolve.

Hmmph.

A very enlightened character in movie once said of men, “They can make you feel like fine china one minute, and an old penny the next.“

Today, I am feeling like an old penny. I must preface this by saying, any bit of common sense inherent in my family was genetically passed on to younger siblings. Eye hand coordination? Completely lacking. Instinct needed to perform simple, routine tasks? Clearly not present in yours truly. And thus, I was counting on J’s promise to do a chore for me. Yet, last night, after entire month of waiting for that promise to be fulfilled I, got tired of waiting and attempted to perform the task myself. It was a MISERABLE failure.

I’m personally not able to hang curtains. I was almost in tears over inability to complete simple task (Gal Pal, upon seeing distress has promised to ask brother to help. God love her) and I’m cursing J for his lack of dependability. This was not always the case. I could have counted on him for any number of silly things, and have come to conclusion that A) either I am not on his priority list as I once was or B) I’m not to take it personally, as increased narcotic abuse will simply do that — in which case, I ought to be more worried, rather than less. But in midst of the curtain disaster, I decided it was option A, and felt miserable. It’s not so bad missing curtains from one’s bedroom. Though, changing in bathroom is sort of inconvenient, and odd sleeping where entire neighborhood can see (especially in the event that one’s nightie slides up during night, exposing the underwear of choice. Or lack of).

Overall, not having curtains is not so horrible. But being unimportant to someone about whom I care desperately, is. It’s very bothersome.

Used to feel like his fine china. Now I  am his old penny. Good for when he needs exact change (comfort, pat on back, ego boost), but otherwise, of little value.

Am looking forward v. much to going on vacation.

I’m going to have evening without the bicycle tonight, I’ve decided. Not that it’s extremely difficult to do so. I’ll simply turn off my cell phone. Ok. No, I will not. But I will at least put it in the other room. Wine, hot bath, pedicure and a silly girl movie should do the trick. It must seem like my life is completely unstable. In family department, it’s probably v. close to true. But, I must say, do have wonderfully lovely friends, and though J can be quite a complication, he is probably one of the best-intentioned people. Always willing to lend aid. And THC enhanced support. God love ‘im.

I have decided to ask J if we are going to permanently settle into “just friends” pattern so as to free myself to fuck up more potentially beneficial relationships because of an irrational devotion to him. I’d wait a hundred years if knew that’s what he wanted. So pathetic. I’m aware of this. But I’m also quite aware that there is no one else like him out there. I’ve looked. I’ve been trying to replace him for a very long time and would be more successful at it, if that was actually what I wanted. Alas.

Ultra gay, v. wonderful friend M said once, “H, if I liked girls, I’d be in love with you.” Proving, once again, that any man with taste is, indeed, gay.

I fainted the first time J kissed me.

Ok, I didn’t faint exactly. But nearly. My face got so hot, knees so weak and head so light that I had to sit down on nearest flat surface. Which happened to be the bed. How handy. I blamed this sudden inability to remain vertical on cocktails. In truth, I had been sipping same cocktail for last hour thinking, ‘stay sober. you will want to remember this.’  My irrational fit of dizziness did not phase J who leaned in closer and noted, “You have a freckle on your lip.” Oh, indeed. I DO have freckle on bottom lip, and J’s charm in pointing it out only added to dizzy spell. On a big, soft bed with walking, talking, made-for-This-Fish Chemistry Set, I don’t remember having any thoughts except several on how pleasant fainting had become.

When beautiful J’s hand found the string of v. scanty thong, and did not move further, I thought (apparently out loud) what a gentleman of bicycle was making out with. “Don’t worry. I won’t go where I’m not invited.”  I wanted to show other unique places on body with freckles, but did not (though J found one on ear also to his liking). I’m a good girl. Did not do any inappropriate inviting at time. Kicking myself now.

And feeling faintish now… must go for walk and think about uninspiring things. Like work. Monkey job. Ah, there. Back to reality.

Did not get hug. Got shot of Jamaican Rum. Sometimes, J’s brand of sympathy is a nice change. Went to bed drunk, and woke up feeling much better.

Received email from Unhinged Mother Figure requesting sympathy for father’s new health issues. “Call him to chat. He sounds really down.”

Well, let him be really down. *sigh*

Life is one of those horrid daily television shows.

The Neo-Alcoholic Father is now cheating on mother, I’m told. Indeed. And not simply with other woman. With anyone who will take him, the bastard. Unhinged Mother Figure does not know. No one does, in fact, excepting myself and Smart Assed Sibling. Fuckwits. Mother. Father. All of them. I’m done with family except for my sisters. Must keep them around.

I need consolation of some sort. A hug would be nice. I feel completely let down by male sex, having been under the impression for last twenty something years, that father (daddy) was the man by which to measure all others. The one to whom no one would be good enough for yours truly. Well, fuck that. Can find 50 who won’t let me down half as badly.

Feel so lost. SO lost. Trying to absorb myself in my job. Shame that a monkey could do my job. Must find other ways to consume time.