06/05/00
I'm no longer incredibly pissed off. Today I am much more the melancholy, ready-to-hurl-my-carcass- off-a-bridge version of myself that I typically have been. Don't ask me why, it wasn't a very eventful weekend other than that my fucking computer STILL doesn't work and I think it may be rejecting the recently-transplanted hard drive my geek buddy installed. I also discovered that Pack Bell (read "Assmunch, Inc.") won't even SPEAK to you for free once you're no longer under warranty. Fucking sonsofbitches...they're out to get me...
C took me to the party Friday night and it turned out to be a party for members of his new firm. Ack! It was like he took me right back to work. Fuck me with a sharp stick. You know you're in the wrong crowd when the resident weiner dog bites one of the breeders' obnoxious children and you are the only person who nearly laughs out loud. (I wanted to bite her, myself--nothing makes me more nauseous than spoiled little Aryan princesses.) So that was grossly uncomfortable. I think C felt genuinely bad for making me go with him. When he was through making me suffer, we picked up Megan at home and went to our favorite Vietnamese restaurant for dinner, then to Otto's for malt fetish satisfaction. We were asleep by 11:00. Damn, we are getting old.
Saturday Megan's class was cancelled so we spent the morning cleaning the house, then I took George to the vet and chatted up Dr. Hottie--she is sooooo cute... Zak came over around 4:30 and brought trout. He even cooked it. The three of us had a lovely dinner and lovely conversation and he ended up leaving around 8:30. I think I am really beginning to like him. At first glance he seems like just a complete freak, but the more I talk to him, the more I think I'm figuring it out. It seems that he's a highly intelligent guy who got completely sick of getting fucked over by the rest of the world and just decided to hell with it and dropped out of the picture entirely...and stayed out. I really admire that. I've wanted to do the same thing for so long, but I am too afraid of the very system that I hate to actually leave it. Plus I don't like having to rely on the charity of others, which has a lot to do with his sustenance. He runs a tab at his vet's office, and just gives them a chunk of money whenever he has it, and nothing he owns is in his name. I don't know that I could live like that. I can't stand the thought of "needing" someone else. Maybe that's why I have so many problems with relationships.
But that's a whole other entry.
Yesterday we went to the city market and bought veggies and crap and then came home, picked up the dogs and went to Lake Jacomo. Much, much cleaner than where we were last week. But equally crowded, unless we were just at a bad end. Not much of a shoreline, either--it was pretty rocky. But we were able to find a rock to put down a blanket and the water was at least clean, almost cleaner than Lake of the Ozarks (not that that's a stretch). Shortly after we got there Megan went back to the car to get the floaters out of my trunk and I was attacked by Officer Boat Cop who told me that since I was in a "highly populated area" I needed to keep my dogs under better control. Uh, were they doing anything, Officer Rhetorical? All three of them were standing right there with me. I finally ended up tethering George to a tree (since he's the only one I definitely can't keep good track of) and the girls stayed with us in the water. Swimming as exercise I can handle. It's much easier because it doesn't seem as much like work. Easier on my poor knees, too, although I could still feel the left one cracking and popping in the water and it's sore as hell today.
We left the lake and went home to make ribs...while Megan was at the store, Noodle opened the front door and let them all out. I corralled them at the field and ushered them back home. After Megan came home, Noodle did it again, and this time Megan went after them. Of course she only came back with Noodle, so I went looking for my dogs. Not a trace of them anywhere.
I think now I understand why, when you got lost as a kid, your parents met you first with "thank God you're still alive" and second with "I'm going to kill you, you little bastard." I combed the entire field and was just terrified. And the whole time I was getting more and more pissed off. Pissed at them for not coming back. Pissed at Megan for not bothering to get them. Pissed at Noodle for opening the fucking door in the first place. I was actually fantasizing about beating the crap out of all of them, once I found them. I finally decided to go by car and went back to the house to get keys. On my way through, I smacked Noodle in the head which SERIOUSLY pissed off Megan. I found the dogs around the corner and opened the door, but the way I was snarling turned them off and they headed back to the house on their own. Of course, right in front of my house at this point was a little old lady and her two elderly purse dogs (is there anything in the world more irritating?) and when I come back around the corner, George and Martha are attacking the purse dogs and the little old lady is having a spasm and trying to beat Martha off with a stick. I stop the car right in the middle of the street, get out, and chase my dogs into the yard. George knows he's in deep shit, and when I grab his harness and start to pull him to the door, he starts squealing bloody murder, which sets Martha off and she starts attacking him. This sends Crazy Dyke Bitch Laurie next door into my driveway where she grabs George and screams "is he okay?" I say "he's fine." She then asks "which one got hit?" I gave her the filthiest look I could muster and said "what?" She apparently didn't recognize my car and when she saw everyone and the dogs in the street thought in her pot-addled head that one of the dogs had been hit by the driver-less car. I took the opportunity to beat the hell out of Martha and throw her in the house, then I took George from Freak-Ass and went inside. Megan was a complete bitch about it--"that was a lovely little scene. Very refined."--which pissed me off at her. I was so pissed I put Martha in her kennel, brought George into the bedroom with me, and sat there and smoked a cigarette.
It was straight out of Springer.
I'm beginning to think I have an anger problem. I just get so damn mad that I completely freak out. It's really worse that I act just like my mother when I get that way.
Good God, that can't be right.
What is it about my life then, I ask myself, that makes me so damned unhappy that I get so overwrought about the stupidest things? My job? My relationship? My financial situation? My whole damn life?
All of the above?
I've been really wondering if taking this other job would be the good thing I've thought it to be. I mean, working evenings would certainly be a switch. But really, what would I be missing? Megan will either be at school or at work. I don't have any friends. I'll be home during the morning. So what's the big deal?
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