I knew I was destined to catch Dirk's disease. It was a long, miserable week-end, let me tell you.
Thursday was good; a final reprieve before I was covered with snot and sweat. I visited my friend Katie C- at her apartment. Her baby smiles more than any other baby I've ever seen. Jake is violently adorable - the only way I can describe him better is by saying he needs nose kisses, but that means nothing to you. She ordered pizza and we reminisced about what giant losers just about everyone we knew in high school have become. We also discussed the current losers we know, and how to make their lives suck. I really missed her.
I'm going to be maid of honor in her wedding, which will be a dazzling new experience for me. I've been to the grand total of one (1) wedding before in my life.
So, we smoked a little and talked a lot, and watched Moulin. Her description of my ex was dead-on: "He was like a mangy stray cat that comes around your house, with its fur coming off in patches and nasty diseases. You feed it because you feel sorry for it, because you know it will die if you don't, and you don't want that on your conscience, even if it might be better off dead." That's as direct a quote as I can manage. Anyway, I was sorry to go home.
I learned a couple important things this week-end, thanks to being disgustingly ill. First, don't buy your medicine from the dollar store. It doesn't work on serious colds/flus, and your boyfriend will malinger far longer because of your cheapness. Second, don't go shopping for Mother's Day gifts when you're slightly feverish and breaking out in cold sweats. You're going to end up in the Illuminations store, unable to smell any of the scented candles and staring in awe at candles made to look like soda cans. You will also buy a 5-dollar bottle of French Limonade from Harry & Davids, knowing that you won't be able to taste it, but unable to resist all the same. As if that isn't bad enough, you will seriously contemplate buying Christmas-themed items because they're on clearance.
Saturday night was vile, because every time I turned on my side in my sleep a couple tablespoons of snot would pour out of my nose in a rush and wake me up. It was horrifyingly vile, let me tell you. I was amazed that I felt well enough to make it in to work today. Right now, I'm trying to decide if I'm well enough to work out today, since I skipped Friday's workout.
And may I say that my ex is a very bitter and delusional man? The sheer amount of revisionist history that he comes up with astounds me. You'd think that I hadn't dumped him because he's a giant loser, that he wasn't living in a trailer with his folks at the grand old age of 28, and that he wasn't dating a girl who could give the Sarge a run for her money in the disgustingly fat department, and an ADD-afflicted five year old in the personality department. I might post pictures at the end of this entry, just because I'm tired of the fact that he hasn't moved on since we broke up nearly 5 years ago. I know that there's something very wrong with him, and he'll never mature beyond his current level (which is stuck at about 17, really), but I've run out of patience for his paranoia, anger, and low self-esteem that makes him lash out for no reason. Then he makes up justification for his actions that doesn't even sound vaguely logical in light of the bald facts of our prior relationship and current living situations. And I do wish he'd just take his current freak-out to e-mail instead of BS'ing it via my guestbook. I really ought to take that thing down. Does anyone use them anymore? I bet he'll post his response in the guestbook, though.
By the way, he never could use the word "pretentious" correctly.
I'm getting cold sweats again. If I didn't need to complete the work on my desk so badly, I would have stayed home today, just to rest up a little more.