06/19/00
Last night, Woo-Hoo Guy across the street was drunk as hell and woo-hooing until around 1 a.m. That was, at least, the last time he woke me up. This morning when I left for work at 7:45, I pulled out of the driveway, positioned my car directly in front of his open windows and started to honk. And I honked, and I honked, and I honked some more. Then I shouted out of my open window, "Good MOR-ning, ASS-hole" and drove away. As I was making my getaway, I noted the Vietnam vet from hell sitting on his front porch whittling or some other hillbilly-ass thing, and I flipped him off.
I have turned into the Waldo version of Bernie Goetz.
PWT all the way, yes, but I have reached the point of no longer giving a shit. The police won't do anything if I call them at 1 a.m. and say, hey, the drunk dipshit across the street is keeping me awake and I have to get up for work in five hours. Animal control won't do anything about the psycho bitch next door's cats fighting (or screwing, I'm not sure which) under my windows in the middle of the night, nor about her dogs barking up a goddamn storm all night long. So I'm taking the law into my own hands.
I think tomorrow morning, I'll stand outside psycho bitch's bedroom window and bark.
Don't try this at home, kids.
Okay, on to more pleasant (or not) things...Friday night was doggie & kitty flea bath night. Megan bought a couple of those hand-held shower heads which we installed in both bathrooms. It makes dog washing a total dream compared to the "big cup and tub" method. You still end up getting wet because you're actually in the shower stall with them (in the basement), but it's a major improvement. I managed to comb every last mat out of my poor cat and Jesus, he had fleas like hell. I can't believe he hasn't gotten sick, they were so bad. I felt (and still feel) just like the most awful mom in the world. But I believe we're getting closer to all animals being flea-free. Thank God they're not actually in the house but contained to the animals or I may have to move.
Saturday we cleaned the house and mowed the front yard. Hung out most of the day together...as friends. I guess Megan wasn't too clear as to what our situation was, but I think I straightened it out for her. She told me "next time we break up try to be more direct." Okay. I went to the "Night of 100 Stars" fundraiser with C Saturday night...he told me something about half hour shifts overseeing the silent auction...MY ASS. We ended up getting stuck tending bar for three fucking hours. I can't tend bar. I can barely mix a diet Pepsi and ice. But I got stuck at the "VIP" bar where drinks were comp, which is good, because I also can't make change under pressure. And there's nothing more pressure-inducing than a bunch of uppity-ass fags hovering over you wanting vodka tonics. Funny thing about the queers in this town...they're none too pleasant to be around. Finally around 9:30 I said "I quit" and went outside to smoke many cigarettes. C's friend (who was "organizing" the whole event, and I use that term loosely) came out and begged me to go back around 10:00. So I did, then C and I left around 11:00. We met up with Megan and some of her social work pals at the girly bar. Whooooa...why is it that I'm perfectly okay with the idea of me slutting around, but watching Megan flirt with another chick just makes me want to vomit? As it was, I developed a raging sinus headache around 8:00, so by the time we got to the bar I was totally miserable anyway. Megan introduced me to two people as her "girlfriend." She later apologized. I told her not to. We ended up sleeping in the same bed again.
I suck at this. I just can't let go of the fact that I still love her very, very much.
I just can't be with her.
Sunday I woke up at 9:00. The Dog'n'Jog walk event started at 10. I had serious second thoughts, particularly given George's history of attacking large dogs (he weighs 18 pounds), but decided to go for it. I'm so glad I did. I have never been more proud of that dog than I have been since yesterday morning. We got to the Plaza just as the walkers were lining up, so we just took a place in line...Jesus, there were over 1000 people and dogs there. It was complete dog-land. And George didn't seem to even notice. He walked side by side with dogs bigger and smaller than he and was just as polite and friendly as any other dog. We walked our mile and then made our way around the park visiting all of the sponsor booths and what not. They had several kiddie pools set up (which were taken over by the Golden Retrievers) and treats and water dishes and bandanas for all the dogs...we got our picture taken and some lady who photographs animals for commercial work actually took an interest in George, taking a few pics of him and taking our names and phone number. It was a truly lovely morning.
And Zak is back in town. I noticed his truck at the field on Saturday but thought it would be a bit strange for me to go running over there like a damn puppy. Plus, I'm wondering why the fuck he's back from the river so soon. I would imagine it probably means his mother is either dead or steadily declining. I saw him over there yesterday, as well, but I had already walked the dogs and figured if he really wanted to talk to me, he could knock on the door. At any rate, I'll probably see him tonight...same dog time, same dog channel.
I am obsessed with this man. He just fascinates me. And I have no idea why. Maybe because I want to (loosely) base a character on him in my latest attempt at fiction, and I need to know him better in order to do that. Maybe because I'm in dire need of a more diverse friend population. Maybe because I'm horny?
It's therapy day. And oh, what a day for it. It's also "give notice day"--I got the job. Not the one I wanted, but the one I'm willing to take--the transcription job at the orthopaedic practice. It's actually more money than I make now (how sick is that) and more than the other job would have paid. Plus, the other job would have been more like a "real" job, and when I take "real" jobs, I tend to think, "I want to do this for the rest of my life" and drop out of school, only to find myself in a rut 2 years later. I smell a pattern here...so I'll take the transcription job and like it. For a while, anyway...
Gotta go collect my thoughts before I head off to the couch. And write my letter of resignation. Oh, how tacky...
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