5/22/00
"I was scared when I looked at my reflection and the shine I saw were the eyes of you...when you touched my lips and the breath I took was a breath that shook me like a shock..."
I am back for yet another week of work bliss. HA! There will definitely be nothing from me on weekends for a while, seeing as how last night I decided to reformat my hard drive and, in doing so, have realized that my A: drive is busted. FUCK! I still owe $1200 on that fucking piece of shit!!! So I'm either going to have to sleep with one of the geeks here in the IS department or cough up the dough to have it fixed. Shit, fuck, screw.
Anyway, it wasn't a bad weekend, just...strange. (My new favorite word, by the way.) Friday night I went home, just super-pissy because it was such a bad work day. I ran on the treadmill for about a mile, then showered, then got ready to go meet Megan and her soc work buds at the bar. And right before I got dressed, Zak knocks on the front door...okay, Zak is a freaky sort of dude that lives in the neighborhood, and brings his big golden retriever, Rex, over to the field across the street from our house to run. Rex is a real sweetheart and the more I know Zak, the more I like him--I think any guy who loves his dog enough to spend big bucks on allergy shots for him is more than likeable. And it seems that within the last month or so, Zak has been spending a lot more time chatting Megan and I up...it could be that he's just being friendly and I just read WAY too much into shit, but I swear, he's been cleaner and chattier lately. So anyway, I've lately developed this ridiculous crush on Zak but more on that later. SO when he comes over Friday evening wanting to know if my girls could come out and play with Rex. So I let them. And just because I'm such a shameless slut, I went out on the porch and had a conversation with him in my bathrobe. And of course I was in full makeup and had total "fuck me" hair going on. God, I'm awful. But Friday, he was wearing glasses--I've only ever seen him in sunglasses, kinda like the Unabomber, I don't think I've EVER actually seen his eyes until just then. And they're nice, from a distance. But what's bizarre is that he kept the girls in my front yard. J just lets them run all over the damn hood and tells me "you don't give them enough freedom, blah, blah, blah" even though I beg him to not let them run. Zak kept them in the yard and actually retrieved Noodle when she tried to run off. *Sigh* So more on that whole conundrum later...
So I get to the bar and Megan is six degrees of lit like a furnace, and for some reason, that really put me off. And she's wanting to be real touchy-feely and I'm thinking, this is a straight bar, and they're all looking at this group, anyway. So I tell her to get the fuck off me and start sobering up, because I hadn't seen her this drunk in quite some time. So she goes off to play pool with her practicum supervisor who is one of those "Pat" dykes--a little older, a little heavier, a little butcher--on whom she has had a total crush for several months. And let me tell you, the girl was all over "Pat" like a bad haircut. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I didn't think pool was a contact sport, right? So I'm thoroughly pissed off and relaying it to a mutual friend, B, who is actually more Megan's friend but has more in common (musical interests, etc.) with me, which may not have been such a good idea, but oh well. Then we get thrown out of the bar around 9:00 because a "private party" is due to show, and I'm like, well, I'd love to wait around for my $16 tab, but then I might not be gone by the time the private party gets here--so I stiffed them! I NEVER do anything like that, I'm so moral it's disgusting. So I'm like, come on Megan, let's go, and she's being all drunk and stupid and waiting around for Pat so she can invite her to the girly bar with the rest of us. So I left her there and went with B to his place to use the john and then to the girly bar. Well, once there, Megan realizes she's made an ass of herself and apologizes and all is again well in dyke land. Except Friday night was the big Tina Turner concert and all the people who are cooler than us were able to score tix, so the only people at the girly bar besides us were UGLY. I mean, dagnasty ugly. Like one chick was actually wearing a tube top. Oh, Farah Faucett, I don't THINK so...then there was one chick with this really pointy head and a little tuft of hair on top--I swear, she looked like Burt from Sesame Street. There was this one little cutie there, but she danced like a club kid and was with a truly scary-looking girl (who also danced like a club kid). No eye candy for us...
Saturday we were up surprizingly early and went to the farmer's market, where we bought fresh vegetables and threw away all of the Mennonites' "A Cure for AIDS" pamphlets (proclaiming that AIDS is God's punishment for fags and sluts and dope addicts--such fucking garbage) right in front of a couple of them. Then we went to my sister and future-dork-in-law's for their que & brew. The big Navy retard was there--he looks to be just a few chromosomes from a monkey. At one point in the night the conversation turned to Milli Vanilli (don't ask me how) and the big retard says, "aw man, one's dead and one's a fag," which seriously pissed me off (especially since I'm pretty sure both Rob and Fab were STRAIGHT?) but I wasn't really in the mood to correct him because truthfully, there's no end to those dipshits and you can't win a pissing contest with a prick. But my sister gave him the nastiest look--holy shit, even I was frightened. And it shut his sorry ass right up, too. I'm glad Megan was at her mom's or it might have been bloody.
Yesterday we went to The Corner for breakfast (love Bob's Cajun Style!) and then to Recycled Sounds to pick up some tunes...I got a copy of Maria McKee's first solo, which I never bought because I thought her first solo attempt would be lame but DAMN was I wrong, Depeche Mode 101, Smithereens, INXS Kick, and The Black Crowes. You can tell you're getting old when you purchase music solely to replace those items in your collection that have been lost, stolen, or just got too damn old to play right--not to actually purchase anything NEW, because all the new stuff sucks. Somebody call the nursing home and get me a bed...
And now I'm here. And I'm supposed to go to therapy today but I really don't know what I want to say. "I continue to develop strange crushes on strange people, and even though the likelihood of any of them coming to fruition is slim, I get dangerously close to fucking up my whole world?" It's just further exhibition of my classic "needy" behavior. I want to be worshipped. I know, I know, "don't we all," yes, but I take it to total extremes, I think. And I tend to want to be worshipped by people who qualify for "potential serial killer of the month," with a few exceptions.
So is everyone in the world insane, or am I just particularly good at picking out the freaks? Maybe it takes one to know one...
Oh, joy, one of my geek friends here has offered to look at my PC. And I don't even have to sleep with him. It's a good thing, too, because I probably would.
So does all this make me "bisexual?" Jesus, I hate labels, but everyone wants to know where they can stick you, what category they need to place you under. It's ridiculous. Suffice to say, I find men physically attractive, and intriguing in that most of them are so damned easy to control (to a point), but I just don't connect with them on that deep emotional love level. I've never met a man that I could honestly see myself in a life-long romantic committment with. Life-long friends, yes, short-term lovers, sure, but nothing more than that.
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