4/18/00
Tax Day is done and over. Hallelujah. I left here at 6:15 last night. The good news is that I didn't have to claim any "personal time" for my shrink appointment AND I got an hour overtime. Gee, I'll have to try not to spend that $23 all in one place...
The events following Tax Day of Death were pretty good, though. I went home and Meghan was doing some "why it's cool to be a foster parent" pep talk thing at work for prospective foster parents, and Crazy Laurie next door had her bitch friend "Y" over. I admit I have never actually met "Y," but I hate her nonetheless. I hate her because there was this big interview with her in a local news rag because she's on the city women's rugby team. And I mean, this bitch is probably the most foul-mouthed, ignorant dyke I've ever had the displeasure of exposing myself to. Every other sentence in this interview was "kick ass." Either the team was kicking some ass, or getting their ass kicked, or doing something that kicked ass. It was like an interview with Beavis and Butthead, the lesbian version. And my only thought was, Jesus, no wonder us queers are victim to stereotyping. Admittedly, I have a foul mouth. Admittedly, I say some stupid things. But take a look at the arena--this is a personal web page that serves as my own on-line life chronicle. It's not a news article promoting an organization. You can bet your ass I'd clean up my act if it were. I also hate "Y" because she has this big stupid mean German Shephard that she takes EVERYWHERE. I love my dogs, but even I know when to leave their annoying little asses at home. So "Y" brings the damn dog over to Crazy Laurie's, and they set it loose in her back yard, and then my dogs go completely bonkers and start running the fence with the outlander. Ever try to get a bad dog to stop running a fence when there's a foreign dog running on the opposite side? So "Y" and Crazy Laurie sit in Laurie's back yard alternately giving me filthy looks and calling to the big stupid dog (neither of which get them anywhere) until I usually give up and call my dogs inside.
Well, not yesterday, because I had spent the whole fucking day assembling tax returns for rich bastards with more money than sense, and I was pissed off long before I saw "Y's" stupid little jellybean car in Crazy Laurie's driveway. My dogs were already outside running the fence. So I opened the back door, yelled "get the fuck in the house," gave "Y" a filthy look, and brought the herd inside. Then I thought, wait--I bought this house. I own that yard. HA! And I opened the door and let the bastards back out. Within minutes, the freak troupe next door piled into the jellybean mobile for greener pastures. I WON!
So, after enjoying that small, petty victory, Meghan returned home and we went to a local bar'n'grill for cheeseburgers in paradise and a cold Corona, after which I was ready for bed. But Jimmy Buffett's "Fins" did come on the jukebox while we were there, and that instantly improved my foul mood. I'm listening to Jimmy now. How can you not be happy listening to songs with lyrics like "I have been drunk now for over two weeks, passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks..."? I guarantee that being exposed to Buffett repeatedly for at least 2 years will turn anyone into a believer. I have Meghan to thank for turning me into a parrothead. But keep in mind, my first Buffett concert I spent with my arms crossed and a disgusted look on my face and kept whining "can we GO now?"
So both sisters are coming to visit this weekend. I got an e-mail from the 19-yr-old this morning. She admits that she is flunking out of school--her first semester. I'll bet my parents are going to be so proud. She also informed me that our 23-year-old sister just found out yesterday that she's officially knocked up. I don't know exactly how to react to this. I mean, on the one hand, my sister needs a baby like a dog needs roller blades. And this means that we're going to be stuck with the moron-in-law for the rest of our lives. And she'll probably give it some stupid white trash name like "Brandy Sue Diane" or "Bubba Billy Benjamin." However, on the upside, I will finally be an aunt to one of my own. (I've just had a hard time "bonding" with Meghan's brother's kids because, well, they're dirty for one, and they're not "blood" for another, as awful as that sounds. Or maybe it's just because the oldest is a hellion little brat who likes to crayon on my hard wood floors.) And I will get to do all the fun aunt things--like buy the kid finger paint for its birthday, and LOTS of candy at Easter, and other stuff "mom won't let me have." And it affirms my position in the family as "the good kid." (I'm still gay, but I think they're more willing to overlook that tidbit, considering I'm soon to be the only child they have who wouldn't be a good guest on Springer.)
I don't feel nutty today. I feel surprisingly clear-headed. Wonder how long that will last...maybe I'll get lucky! I hope so, I have a ton of shit to do--work I've avoided, bills I haven't paid, a budget I haven't updated in a week. Oh, yes, and a paper to write so that I will hopefully pass that class and not end up a flunkie like my sister...
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