You Wrote About Me?!?!

I haven’t yet given Gaston, or Ms. Thing -who will be renamed as of today- her new name is: Ms. Hood- the address to the blog, but I did mention it to them both. Both their panties are wound tightly (and I say this from observation only as I have never seen Gaston in panties. And Ms. Hood, well the only reason I saw her in panties was because her gay girlfriend undressed her one night after Ms. Hood passed out from having three drinks with us while we consumed enough alcohol to poison 2 overweight rhinoceroses. Seeing as I was far from home and quite unable to drive, I called my then boyfriend and he came and picked me up- awww… sweet love…. According to Ms. Hood, “nothing happened” after I left, but what does she know, we had to have a bouncer help us carry her limp ass out of the club thru the backdoor to our waiting car when she slinked off of her stool while still in the club. Wait! Come to think of it, I have seen Gaston in women's lingerie, he dressed up as a very unattractive woman for last Halloween’s office costume contest- I think he won $25 for that and spent $80 on that hideous Target brand shit).

So they are both very eager to see what I’ve written thus far, and since there isn’t much on here yet, I feel they should wait- plus I like torturing them both. I have to find new entertainment since my beau does not respond to my frantic mating calls; torturing these two will have to do for now.

We had our little threesome lunch yesterday and not only caught up with all we had missed from each others happening lives, but also celebrated Ms. Hood’s birthday. And did we ever divulge too much information to each other! Well they did; I just laughed and pointed like an incompetent fool on account I have nothing new to add and they are both intimately familiar with my failed attempts at wooing my man despite my constant text messaging, incessant emailing, occasional calling and unexpected visiting- oh well. Do I sound bitter? I already told you I’m not, really……..

So the two lovebirds (aka lustbirds) I introduced you to last week have progressed sexually as well as space-sharing wise. While Gaston’s last failed-attempt-at-everlasting-love thought he was “moving too fast” simply ‘cause he left a measly shaving kit underneath her bathroom sink, his new-love has not only cleared space for him in her bathroom but also cleared drawer-space for him in her bedroom! "Is she moving too fast?" I asked. “Well, we’ve been dating for a while so it’s ok,” was his noncommittal response. Wait! So this new chick can clear space in her house for you and expect you to fill it up and thus spend the night during the week and I can’t take a simple 1,000 mile flight to my beau’s show to surprise him and let him know I really like him? How does that work!?!?! Oops, there I go being self-absorbed again- mental note: ‘Stop being self-absorved, oh! and stop being a borderline stalker too.’

Gaston’s new love is a great time apparently. She does all those things that guys like and stuff, and yeah- use your imagination- I’m sure you’ve got one after all those lonely nights spent at home alone. Wait- there I go projecting again.

Gaston would flip if I typed all he said yesterday, and Gaston’s new love-interest would do more than flip if she found out he talks about it with us. But then so would Ms. Hood’s husband and my beau, even though he’s not really my beau anymore. That one month was so magical though…..sighhhhh.

No, really these two, feeling slightly guilty at all the information they let escape their mouths, try to in turn allege all these events between me and my beau on my last visit to him. I told them I flew in to visit him, caught his show, said hello and then went for a drink with him and a couple friend of his who will be married July 30th and had said they needed to speak with him that night. So there we are sitting the four of us, to any unsuspecting eye it may have looked like an innocent double-date or something when in reality cowbell guy, that’s what I’ll call my failed beau now, was maybe sitting there thinking “How do I rid myself of this here psycho?”

We parted ways, his friends and us and we drove to my hotel where we sat outside for an hour or two discussing the reason for my unexpected visit. How to explain to him what had compelled me to make that rash decision? I tried and thought I did, nevertheless, he did not see it my way and shut off he did. And here I am trying to forget it all, thinking that if I talk about it enough away these feelings will go.

These two think I went up there to sleep with him, and while I would have if the opportunity had been there, if it would’ve progressed to that, and it could have, it can always progress to that, they are men after all- that was not the reason for my flight up there and I didn’t. But if it makes Ms. Hood and Gaston feel better thinking I did then let them think it I say.

I’ll let them sweat it a bit longer and perhaps they’ll have nightmares (insert evil laugh here). What else is there to write about but those who surround you all the time. Stay tuned for more incoherent thoughts to come.

Hooks, Lines, Tracks, Suburbs

I spent the entire weekend out in the burbs…. I know, I know, you’ll probably say that Atlanta is not a big enough city to call anything outside of it the burbs- I know. I’m not in NYC. No matter, there is still a major distinction between the city and the burbs even here.

I’ve been systematically loosing friends on account of my unwillingness to venture outside the “city limits.” Well, realistically, I’ve been systematically loosing friends for a myriad of other reasons but now’s not the time to delve into THAT one tidbit. My inability to drive for more than 10 miles at a time when “having a good time” is involved has dramatically reduced my short list of friends to single digits if that. Thus I’ve been made to make new friends or just figure out “constructive ways to pass the time without feeling like I’m wasting time.” Is that even possible? Some of the best times are “wasted” times. Literally, assuming I can remember those, and I do most of the time. Why is it that most of my peers seem to be using alcohol as much as it seems they are? Oh wait, that’s because I’m not among the peers that use other substances to silence the voices that say that maybe it is all a royal waste of time……

So out in the burbs even the birds sound different. Part of the reason I was out there on Friday was because the events going on in my neighborhood were “indie-rock” centered. WTF is that anyway? Is it the 30+ year old punk girls with their Betty Paige bangs? The girls that make their numerous tattoos part of their ensemble? The 20+ girls wearing their granpa’s sweaters? The 30+ guys still driving jalopies with flames painted on them? Or is it the new local Rollergirls team? I don’t know, but the bands that were scheduled to play at the “Corndogorama” at the EARL* were of no interest to me, so late Friday I just sat here and posted incoherent thoughts on this here blog. I decided that I did not want to be out among the “indie-rock” crowd that would surely overfill the local bars even though I could probably drink for free since it was my weekend to fly solo and usually the bartenders I’ve befriended and bribed with sometimes obscene tips hook me up when I’m alone. I usually hang out alone, hitting all the local spots by myself every other weekend (unless I’m out of town visiting-borderline-stalking-the-guy-I-thought-was-more) because my gay husband** has to work every other weekend and gives me time off on my own.

So I was gonna sit in my desrted office and learn the magic of condensing URL’s and linking other bloggers to my blog but then my longtime friend who is now married with two children living happily in a cul-de-sac in a new subdivision called me and said traffic was a parking lot and would I meet her for a drink? Hmmm? Drink or type and learn stuff I really want to learn but rather wait for a computer-oriented genius to show me? Drink! And besides, I’ve been a really shitty friend and although I have apologized I still have to make an effort to be there so we picked a place we were both close to and drinking we went. Well, I went she could only stay for one because she had to drive out to her parents’ who were holding her precious addition to the family and she thought traffic had cleared by then. We chatted a bit, caught-up a bit and all that. She said she missed me, I miss her too; it’s just our lives are so far apart and so are our houses. I know, that’s a lame excuse. So she left and as I sat there drinking by myself I thought; this isn’t so bad. Then the old man sitting a few bar stools to my right tried to start a conversation. I’ve decided in my wise years that there’s no need to be a bitch (unless you really have to) to people who are out. Simple hellos and answering silly little questions is ok, they are out to have a good time and who am I to ruin it for them after all? Unless, my polite/disinterested tone doesn’t get the point across. So the plan as she was leaving morphed into, I’ll meet you at your house later and we can sit and talk some more and have some more drinks and I’ll spend the night. It sounded like a good idea. So when she called me later and I was still sitting at the bar, I reluctantly started out for her house. I got there, everyone was asleep, she and I talked some more. She only drinks rum and I don’t so I sipped at a glass- then we both realized it was late and off to bed we both went. So all in all, Friday was good because I spent time with someone I care about and perhaps she won’t think me too much a shitty friend after all.

And Saturday it was more of the same, but different. It was my little brother’s birthday and his wife had a surprise party for him. I cleaned my house all day- the fun that entails is endless and inexplicable. How does a 745 sq’ spot get in need of so much cleaning? Dog hair, I tell you, it’s the dog hair!

Off to the suburbs I relinquished myself to, I figured I’d hang for a while and then make it back to my hood if I got bored. But alas! I ended up spending the night there too, and not because I needed to, I didn’t partake enough in the libations, partly because I hate Bud Light and partly because I ate enough to feed a large Salvadorian army in the midst of a 100 day hunger strike. I couldn’t breathe, much less drink large quantities of a beer I despise. But I sat and listened to the unfamiliar voices and conversations all around me. I spent some time with my brother’s close friends, who were, at one time or another, involved in questionable dealings. They have all since grown-up. Most of them have families and have moved on to “real jobs” and meaningful employment. I find it amazing that these guys escaped the streets relatively unscathed and are here now to enjoy offsprings and other areas of life they used to despise. An older friend of my brother’s (33) told me how glad he is at seeing my brother transformed. I had to agree a zillion%. I am glad he is still here. I am glad I’m part of his family and part of his kids’ lives- he has amazing kids. His other friend, whom I monopolized for an extended period of time that evening, told me stories of their misadventures when they were younger, stories I’m glad they survived. This particular friend of my brother’s did get in some of trouble and did end up doing some time in jail. He says he knew then he had to straighten up and he finished high school, did a couple of years in college and did nothing but work for a while to get back on his feet. He and my little brother are indeed brothers of another kind. They are now producing a CD they hope will make it- and some of their tracks are good, in my un-expert opinion. Rap, like beer, is an acquired taste I believe. Some of their stuff makes me blush, tee-hee! Since I am so innocent and all you see…….. A different day, a different dollar spent.


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*EARL: www.badearl.com

**gay husband: He’s neither married to me nor my husband, but he is gay and my neighbor and we do spend entirely too much time together. He claims it’s because I am the only one who will accompany him to “weird” stuff, ie: obscure plays, obscure bands, new places to eat, crazy local celebrities events, etc. I tell him he could do these things by himself, he says he doesn’t feel comfortable. I tell him he needs a boyfriend, he says he was not made to be in a relationship cause he’s too bitter. Whatever, he NEEDS a boyfriend and wants one but won’t admit it

Mars, Venus, Jupiter.... what?

All this reading of all these blogs, these new people I'm finding has been like a..... like a what?

A vacation for my overexerted minds it feels like. I try to disengage, joke about the "voices in my head" to diminish the seriousness with which they sometimes speak, and that works for about 1/2 a second. But I always knew I wanted to write, just write- I realize that what I write isn't comprehensible to all- but that's fine, it doesn't have to be, we don't all like chocolate cake either.

One of my co-workers is on a mission to make me read the Venus, Mars book about how we're supposed to behave and I'm thinking it will be a complete waste of time. He insists that it will all make sense once I read this, 'cause I'll see the light. This all comes from our little threesome group here at work that spends time together at lunch when we can, and thus divulge way too much information about our outside lives to each other- mainly our love-lives, or lack thereof. So we sit at lunch like giggling teens telling stories about who did what and said what and went where and met so'n'so and analyze and proceed to advise each other to "make it better."

We always have advise for each other- advise we may not necessarily follow ourselves, but advise nonetheless. As we frequent a handfull of our favorite spots and talk about the latest, we take turns revealing too much info to each other- but it seems to work for us, for now.....

The co-worker who wants me to read this book- we'll call him Gaston- is thouroughly convinced that my approach to men is the beggining of my demise, because we are "supposed" to behave a certain way and men another -and those are indisputable facts. And I can't seem to grasp that, I can't seem to swallow that if you will. I mentioned to him today (our third leg is on vacation this week) that I had a conversation with a long time friend who echoed his exact sentiments as to why my last encounter with someone I believed was something more did not work out. He said, "I like your friend," and smiled. He and I have learned that neither one of us will win this argument as it has becomes a tiresome circle for the both of us, so as I explain why it is that I can't seem to make myself wear these facades I'm expected to sport and he merely looks intently at me and nods his head lightly and says, "You want me to bring you that book?"

The longtime friend did have a point that I did not have a comeback for when I asked her why I should follow these rules. The rules I speak about are the ones that say that women are to take the passive role, that they are to wait patiently for the "man to make the moves" and all that. Why? Why can't I go after what I want when I want? She said that the rules are the time proven method, the tried and true proven method- that if my method isn't producing the results I'm seeking then my method is obviously wrong and perhaps I should consider changing it or continue getting the same results. The problem with her response is that at this point in my life I'm considering notions that I would not have considered before so it adds a twist to everything. So even if I do decide to play these games and follow these rules I know in the end I'll resent the person and even maybe hate myself- or maybe not; who knows?

Today I'm questioning all the "facts" I had assembled in my head. Today I looked at his picture and thought: "I could really love you." But then I realized that his silence must be his way of saying it is over. It just seems so cowardly to me though. Call me a masochist but I want to hear it from his lips. If he took the time to tell me all these unexpected things in the beggining that caused me to consider other paths my life could seek, shouldn't he also have the balls to say it when it is over?

I figure that it should be simple enough for him to say to me that it is not what he thought it could've been, that he doesn't feel the same way about me anymore; it's as simple as his telling me all the things he said before. But I'm holding him to my standards when I say that and I realize that none of us is like the other and so move on....... Easier said than done. I'm not saying anything new here I know, we've all been there, here and other places and life goes on and the sun rises every morning whether I'm admiring it or not.

Gaston was on match.com and dated a lot, lunch dates mostly on the first time to make it short and sweet if he didn't feel it. And sometimes his lunch dates would produce night dates and so on. He was, at one point, dating an older woman who eventually told him to get lost 'cause he "freaked" her out. He says that she said his having brought (and left) a shaving kit to her house was him "moving too fast." He's a hairy guy though! He NEEDS to shave every-day! And he was spending nights there sometimes knocking boots and what not, so rather than carrying his shaving stuff around he just left the extra one there. In our expert opinions she "has other issues." It turns out she's started trying to get back in, apparently she realized it's hard to get some fine-still-able-to-perform-penis once you're older. But alas! He's already otherwise engaged, he met a friend thru a friend and has been dating her for a couple of months now, so older lady is out of luck and out of fuck.

So this new chick and Gaston did the one date, two date, three date, four date thing before it got physical- so he says. He used to tell us that they'd be on her couch getting hot and heavy and she'd say things like: "You're trouble." Or: "You better get out of here, before I do something I shouldn't." And of course being the gentleman that he is he'd oblige (and probably go home and rub it out- he did admit to this a couple of times).

At at lunch, or in the elevator heading out to lunch, we'd tell him he's gay for not getting some. "She definitely thinks you're gay," I'd say. "Yeah, you should've gotten it while you could!" said Ms. Thing laughing. So then he invites her to the beach and she says yes and they both decide that they'll wait 'till they get to the beach to do it; with her saying more cute things like: "We won't even make it all the way to the beach, we'll have to pull over." Oh! New love... or lust..... how wonderful it is. Do I sound bitter? I'm not really......really. I've had my share of lovers, some say I'm good, you keep telling me this and telling me that......

So now the two lovebirds (aka lustbirds) have moved to weekday sexcapades. Gaston said, "You gotta get it while it's in season, I'll sleep when season's over." That's as good a plan as any. We have a lunchdate Ms. Thing, Gaston and I. I have to recap on my psychotic behaviour caused by the belief that the man I thought was more, really does want me and is simply playing hard to get because his fantasy is to have me take over and come after him full force and make him want me. He wants me to fly the 1,000 miles that separate us and surprise him at one of his shows. He wants to find me waiting by his front door so he can stop in his driveway and look intensely into my eyes and run towards me, slowmotion like with music in the background with lots of cowbell sounds, he likes playing the cowbell a lot.

Or not.

Then we have to hear Ms. Things stories about her "taking hood" in Orlando (that's what her husband calls doing it). They were on vacation w/ children so I suppose there wasn't much time for "hood-taking" but I also know Ms. Thing is very ingenious.

I'm gonna stop moping about, perhaps taking my beau's picture down will help expedite the process, maybe. Ah, musicians, writers, slackers, men....... but I don't like the guys I'm exposed to on a daily basis, you know the VP's-living-0ver-my-credit-limit type..... And it's Friday! Perhaps I'll take time to learn how to use this blogg better. Or not, I hear a couple of tallboys calling me.......

http://unix.rulez.org/~calver/pictures/bunny_suicides/

I was trying to only post the one w/ the disheveled looking woman with the torn picture. It's really not that dramatic for me, just not what I wanted's all.

Napoleon, my boss, was out of town today so there was no joke of the day. We'll see you soon.

So this will take some time

So I see this will require some actual learning, hmmm, ok- I've been wanting to do this so I'm up for the challenge. Those of you who do this all the time of course will think it "elementary" but that's ok, I'd think the same about all the things I already master- and trust me, it's a lot of things.

It's afterhours, so doing this, or attempting to do this here should be no problem. But if you can see this @ work, Hi Napoleon! I finished all my other projects for the day.

Napoleon is my boss, that's what I call him anyway, and you can probably figure it out w/o my having to explain why I call him that. I also call him "Al" sometimes, on account he forgets pretty much everything he tells you about 5 seconds into the conversation. We had a meeting today to update our department's website to generate more business and he disgressed into a "chigger" conversation. He asked me if I knew what a chigger was, I said "some insect." He proceeded to explain that it buries itself under your skin and lays larvae and then leaves you a bleeding, scratching mess. "But," he said, "you know how you can get rid of them?" I have now learned that these are all rhetorical questions for him -to be answered by him only so that you may be imbued with his infinite knowledge. "Clear nail polish, it suffocates 'em." Oh, good- I'll keep that in mind- thanks! He also proceeded to tell us that he gets them on the golf course, where he routinely has to search for his lost balls- but his game's getting better.

I actually took notes on all this, partly b/c of the sillinessof it all and partly b/c I was falling asleep and needed something to do. I actually keep all my notepads from work. I am going on my 5th year here and I have all the notepads I have used to date to take work-related notes, phone numbers and all that stuff I have to remind myself to do. Whenever I get to thinking that my life is a complete waste of time all I have to do is look into my bottom drawer at work and look at my notepad collection listing work-related events, tasks and stuff, to remind me of all the impressive accomplishments I can truly own up to! That always works- well, that and a few* beers to forget the pain.**

And today he was in rare form. He's a funny guy; still unable to do away w/ words like "broad" in the office environment and a myriad of other characteristics that would be seriously "frowned" upon by HR if they were to look into it. But he practically owns the place and really what's a word but just a word. And his stories are somewhat funny, albeit repeated too many times.

It sucks, when there's a new addition to our department as we are all forced to relisten to semi-funny stories for the billionth time. The guys usually laugh like they mean it, but I just look straight at him and sometimes make faces. That's not to say I don't partake into "kissing ass" but mine is more along the lines of I baked him a killer chocolate cake for his birthday and surprised him in his office w/ all the other regular asskissers from my department. They were shocked of course but happy it wasn't another shitty Publix sheet cake bought atthe last minute just to say you did something for your boss's birthday. And they ate it up, it's a good thing that I'm really a nice person and didn't "mess" with the cake, 'cause I could've you know. But really, I didn't consider the cake a token of my asskissing techniques (I lack in that department), but rather a nice thing to do for someone on their birthday.

So here's his joke of the day:


Boss: "Did you hear the one 'bout the little Jewish boy who went to Catholic school?"

Me: Blank look.

Boss: "Yea, the teacher said 'I'll give one of you $10, if you can name the the most influential person in history.' So she called on Matt OConnell and he said Adolf Hitler because his actions affected millions of people worldwide. She said it was a good answer but incorrect. She then called on Pete McDonald and he said Albert Einstein because all the stuff he discovered influenced lots of people. She said that was also a good answer but wrong. So then she called on Marc Goldsmith and he said 'Jesus Christ,' and she said it was right. So she called him after class and said 'How come you said Jesus Christ, you're Jewish.' And he said, 'Bidness is bidness.'

Me: Blank stare.

Boss: Looking around room, "I've always liked that one."



I've got to go skate so I gotta, sadly, leave this paradise that is my office for now. And tomorrow I'm on the road like every Thursday so I probably won't have time to post such interesting reading, but I'll get back on the learning train for this blogging to write a book, eventually, Friday maybe....
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*few: that can mean as little as 4 tall boys or 10- I usually loose count at that point, depends on how analytical I get while drinking, and how many "one more" phrases I've reserved for the evening. Or how, randomly bipolar I'm feeling that day.

**pain: that is a long list of sometimes self-induced pain, or real pain caused by others, or a long list of reasons as to why I feel pained in general or how many beers I'm willing and able to swig to erase the pain- oh, wait- I'm going in circles here.... Will have to delve into this at a later time.

Away from Patterns

These patterns I seem to have unconciously developed.... where did they come from? Does it really matter at this point? Probably not. All I know is this- it's time to break them, and this I've known for quite a while, yet it seems I've thought it easier to ignore the obvious..... Here we go- not guaranteed to work but change is inminent at this point..... I cannot stop it and what's even better I don't want to!