I work at a bar. I live with someone. I have friends. I love reading. That sums me up.
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Friday, February 29, 2008
Beakman Lives.....
Me: {Business} Can I help you? Caller: Yes, I need Laura. Me: She won't be in until Monday. Caller: Well I need to talk to someone about the show on March 7th. Me: (looks at calendar and realize he's talking about Beakman Live!) Ok, most of our staff is gone for the day, but if you tell me what you need, I can maybe direct you to the right voice mail box. Caller: I need your Tech Director. Me: Well, We don't have a Tech Director, but I think Kathy is the person you'll be wanting to speak to, she handles the production aspect of the shows that come here. I'll transfer you to her. Caller: What is it that I'm performing in? Loeb? Is that a theatre? Me: Yes, it holds about 2,000 seats. Caller: Ok, who is this Kathy? Me: She is our Production Assistant and I think you'll want to be speaking to her. Caller: I need your Tech Director, do you have a Tech staff? Me: Yes. At Loeb, but Kathy is the one who talks to them.. (interrupted) Caller: Ok, Kathy, I'm going to call her your Tech Director because that is what she is. Me: Ok. I'll transfer you to her. Caller: Does she have a direct line? Can I call her directly? Me: Yes of course, do you have paper handy, I'll give you the number. Caller: (rustling) Yes, go. Me: ### Caller: (saying what he is writing) Kathy, Tech Director. Me: (repeating) ### Caller: Ok. Me: ### - #### Caller: Ok Transfer me. (transfers him, and then hangs up the phone) Lois: (overhearing the conversation, and walking to my desk) Kathy will set him straight and then she will send him over to Elliott where Tim is... who is the Tech Director for Loeb. Me: Thank God that's not my problem. I tried to explain, but he didn't want to listen.
So, the point of this post is never, ever buy a spider monkey. They will plot your demise and gouge your eyes out in your sleep.
I'm sick and a lady at my office handed me a tea bag that said, "Detox Tea" on it. "Here this will help your cough, it did wonders for mine," she said. I thanked her and quickly made the tea because I figured it would at least stop my coughing. I sat down with my "Detox Tea" and opened Wikipedia. Since I spend a lot of my time trying to "toxify" my body, I didn't want to turn into the Incredible Hulk or something "detoxifying" it. I was determined to do some reading before sipping.
Detox is less effective than drinking a glass of H2O.
I'm almost quoting Wikipedia directly. And, I know some of you think that Wikipedia is controlled by government monkeys (here is your only reference to monkeys)and I cannot trust it, so this is the link to WebMD confirming the same thing. Although, I am curious about "Sap Sheets," they still look interesting enough or at least when I saw the 4am info-mercial. What was I doing up at 4am? I work at a bar. I have weird hours. I see weird things... like music videos on MTV.
What is the point of all this detox discussion? My question: HOW IN THE HELL DID SOMEONE GET DUPED INTO BELIEVING THIS SHIT? Excuse me... Did I say "someone?"... I mean... TONS OF PEOPLE! Lemmings, people.
Side Note: The Lemmings metaphor cracks me up. Some Disney filmmaker decided to "push" the lemmings off a cliff when they weren't running off of it. Then, he/she made a documentary, sold it to the public, and like "lemmings" we believed that the little rodents committed mass suicide. Maybe the filmmaker was only trying to prove how easy it was to get the public to believe that, for no reason, one rodent in this universe would kill itself for no reason. Meanwhile, other rodents survive through conditions that Bear Grylls couldn't imagine.
In my one run-in with the detoxing nation, and I simply took 5 minutes and figured out it was a scam. I love these stupid diets. Like the one where you eat only meat? What? Seriously? God invented fruits and vegetables just so you didn't have to go killing every four-legged creature in a 12 mile radius of you. Sparky loves you, don't eat him because some asshole decided to create the "All Dog Diet!" Use your head. Not that head. The other one. Good boy.
I realize that I'm such a mess of everything that it's quite possible that I'll never find anyone who understands me. One of my friends says "that's great" because it'll make me a "mystery" for whomever I date. Since I don't want a "mystery" in my life, I don't understand how some male-being would.
At some point I just want someone to understand and accept me.
So many men I date have qualities I need, but lack the understanding. Those of you who were around during the "Matt years" read about how in-love I was with him.A part of me still loves him (is that sad?). I wish I didn't, but a part of me forever will yearn for what I had with him. He was the first person to understand me at least 80 % of the time. Just 80%. That is like a B average. I don't think I'll ever expect an A average.
Then there is Mr. Lust. Mr. Lust, even though there are those of you who frown upon him, really doesn't "hurt" me. Sure, there is the "big" incident that happened, but he has never hurt me on a regular basis. Matt did. GH did. NG did. "The Ex" really did.
The Ex decided what I'd wear every day. I was like the scarecrow who had no brain. NG ignored me every other day. We dated 4 months but technically it was only 2. GH smothered me. Did I ever tell you about how he force-fed a friend of mine pasta because he was so distraught about our break up? Matt... well its hard to explain his.... he was verbally abusive but not so much that anyone could notice... it was only after 8 months of dating upon when I learned his "joking" and his "serious." I call it the time I was dating Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass.
Mr. Lust... nothing... Why can't I be happy in the eyes of everyone?
Sigh... this post sucks. Let me leave you with this: Me: I had a dream about Large Statues last night... more like a nightmare! RHM: haha lovely... that is universally terrifying. Me: I know, you would have peed your pants. RHM: Totally.
I have no idea what prompted me to get shit faced last night, but I did.
I even blacked out.
For instance: I have no idea how I got home.
I don't remember going to bed.
I do remember waking up after a horrible nightmare.
A lot of people don't know this, but I'm afraid of large statues. Not just statues, which is simply called Statue Phobia, I can stand around life-sized or smaller statues all day, its when they become larger than life is when I feel as if I'm going to puke. I had a dream that I was in a large mansion and every room I went into had large statues leaning over me like Moses parting the waters in St. Peters Basilica (I fainted after being surprised with that statue) or Roman gods with their pointing fingers (those are the worst because the reasons for their existence was to strike fear into the people). Finally after running into room after room I could feel myself about to puke... ...thats when I woke up and ran to the bathroom.
I hate drinking that much.
Especially when you run into hot boys who try to talk to you the next day and you have no make-up on, you have frizzy hair, and since you forgot to take out your contacts... bloodshot eyes. Yea, I bet I'm attractive... oh one more thing... I'm losing my voice because I'm sick so I sound like Amy Winehouse ON crack.
Overheard in a bar: Phone, relationships, and beer
Bartender(on phone): I'm sorry the owner isn't here right now. (pause) Bartender: He makes his own hours, I'm not sure when he'll be here next. (pause) Bartender: The owner isn't married. (pause) Bartender: Well, I'm not sure why he lied to you. (pause) Bartender: Well now, that's just way too personal. (hangs up)
Waitress (on phone & smoking): Seriously, when was the last time you took me out? Waiter(over hearing conversation): I bet it's been awhile. Waitress(to phone): Yea, since November! It's February! You didn't even take me out for Valentine's Day! Waiter(still listening in): Oh shit, he's in trouble. Waitress(saying goodbye and hanging up): Ok, I have a date for this Friday. Waiter: The conversation would have gone a lot quicker if you had just used the porn you found on his computer against him. Waitress: No, that's my newest form of control, I don't want to wear it out.
Beer guy: I put a new tap on the Irish Stout so that it comes out frothy. Bartender: Did we request that? Beer guy: No, it was suppose to be like that originally but I didn't have the proper tap. (pause) Beer guy: Do you know how to use that sort of tap? Bartender (second guessing herself): Um, I think so. Beer guy: Here, let me show you. (walks over, takes a glass, puts it to the tap and pours like any other tap, and then starts drinking the beer he just poured) Bartender: That was the lamest way I've ever seen anyone get free beer... and we have meth heads that come in on a regular basis. Beer guy: Well, meth heads and beer deliverers are basically both forms of pond scum.
Me: Thanks for coming in 15 minutes earlier to replace me! Bartender(replacing me): Again, tell me, Why the hell am I here so early? Me: I have a meeting in 15 minutes to figure out what is going to be said at my friend's funeral. Kitchen guy (overhearing): Ooooh! Who feels like a jackass now?!
I guess I should fill in everyone on what Mr. Lust did. He and Tina have a "talking dirty" session once a week where they tell each other explicitly what they'd like to do to one another. He swears it's never entered into phone conversations and that they've never even met. She's the same age as me and she lives about 20 minutes away. I was upset for an hour until I grew too tired to be upset. I don't know what I'm going to do with him or the situation. I'm just in limbo.
That night, I woke up to Mr. Lust saying, "Call your brother's phone, your phone is dead. It's an emergency." I sprang up, called my brother and when the person picked up they said, "He's dead, he had an inoperable brain tumor. They couldn't do anything for him." It took 15 minutes for me to realize that it was my brother talking, and not someone talking about my brother. When I calmed down my brother told me that James had died, and I went hysterical all over again. James was one of the funniest people I've ever met. When he came for Thanksgiving last year, James kept telling my mom how wonderful the food was. She finally said, "James! Stop brown-nosing me!" James, very seriously, looked at my mom and said, "Carol, you don't have to be racist." Everyone started laughing. That was James. Several times I got phone calls at 3 or 4 in the morning with James singing, "Fill me up buttercup baby just to let me down," he would usually make it through the whole song before someone would stop him.
I probably won't be around much before Friday. Wednesday we are planning the memorial service and Thursday we are having the service.
Those popped up on my screen from a "Tina" and I realized that my boyfriend Mr. Lust, aka Joe, had left his Y! messenger running.
I few minutes later Joe walked in.
"Tina just IMed you, I'm not sure what she wanted, but you left your Y! running and I was checking my e-mail."
"Oh ok, can I see my laptop?" "sure"
Tina had a picture, she was my age, pretty long hair, perfect teeth, pretty eyes, looked to be a former cheerleader. I have a low self-esteem to begin with.
He sits down in front of me. Places the laptop so its in perfect eye sight of me, and types to her.
"What?" "what lol?" she returns.
He doesn't write anything for 10 minutes. He checks e-mail and whatnot.
"Well I hope you find what you are looking for" "What?" she returns. "I gotta go, talk to you later."
He signs offline and moves to the couch, and outta my eyesight.
Apparently I trust everyone inexplicably.
I sat and watched Family Guy and laughed at jokes and talked to him, and he told jokes and for about 20 minutes we sat like that, and no thought crossed my mind that he could be sitting on the couch, signed back in to Y! and typing to Tina.
But that's what he did.
At the end of Family Guy I got up and I went over to kiss him on the forehead and ask if he wanted me to make him another drink. As I leaned over his laptop to kiss him on the forehead he grabbed his screen and said, "No no no, baby don't!" and almost closed his laptop screen.
It was too late. Tina's screen was up and it was obvious that they were having a long conversation.
I don't know if you, the audience, have ever been cheated on, but when you find doubt or feel suspicion its a horrible feeling. I went cold. It felt as if I had just swallowed a pound of ice and it was sitting in my stomach with a dull ache of cold. I didn't feel anger, I didn't feel hurt... the feeling could closely be related to scared, but I wasn't scared. I've dealt with this too much to be scared of it anymore.
Confrontation happened moments later. I was as calm as I could be. "Who is she?" "Just a friend from high school" "What did she want?" "I'd rather not say" "What?" "I don't want to get into this." "Do you have a kid with her?" "No" "Were you married before?" "No" (scowls) "Are you married now?" "No" (hurt expression) "Are you cheating on me?" "I'd never cheat on you." "I've heard that before, its hard to believe" "I love you so much." "I've heard that too... Joe, I'm completely jaded on this subject, please give me some kind of reassurance other than what you're giving me now." "I don't know what to tell you." "Please, tell me why she would contact you." "I'd rather not" "It doesn't matter, I need reassurance." "I'm just going to delete Y!" "Then you'll just call her." "I don't have her number." "I find it hard to believe that you won't tell me about this girl because of some deep dark secret and you fail to have her phone number." "Well, that's how it is."
At this, he got up and walked to another room to strip paint. He came in once or twice to ask if I wanted to "talk" but since he won't tell me anything, I don't know what we'd "talk" about.
And now I'm sitting her writing this. Lucky me, my phone is dead, so this is my only relief to talk.
I buried Paul...er... cranberry sauce... It was a complete misunderstanding.
I have a bit of a crush on him. Jim Sturgess. If he had been in one of those "Not another teen movie" deals, I wouldn't have given him a second glance. He was in "Across the Universe" though, and once I heard him sing the opening lines, I was completely hooked. While my favorite song in the movie was "I want you" my favorite one that he sings is "Strawberry Fields Forever." In the song, he creates these fantastic works of art and if I had the chance I would have been rolling around in the strawberries with him. I'm crossing my fingers that he is an asshole in real life.
Kind of sucks that the whole version isn't in this.
Whole version!
**************************
Ok, the middle guy in this picture, which I so neatly ripped from Google Images, cracks me up. Whoa. So, in case you are one of those people who don't go back and read comments later to see what the blogger wrote back, I'll just tell you this story here. A couple Fridays ago I worked 3 to "first off" shift. First off means that when there is a lull or a slow down period, I'm the first one to go. Its nice because you get your Friday or Saturday evening "off" yet you are still making some cash. This Friday in particular I was cut at 2am, in reality if messages had been relayed correctly, it would have been midnight. By 2am I had already taken 3 shots with my co-workers. 2am, I had another shot and started on a beer. At 3:30am when everyone got off of work, we started drinking. At 4ish we started a "line massage" and everyone was rubbing everyone's shoulders. (except one, rather sober, individual who made fun of us for doing it) At 5ish I blacked out, but before I did I started drinking water. At 6ish I started remembering things again. At 7ish I went home.
You know you really like where you work when you spend 5 extra hours at your work place.
The motto in the bar: No Crap on Tap. A.K.A.: You will never see Miller Lite, Bud Light, Coors Light, Bud Select, etc. on tap at the bar I work at.
We have those beers, but they aren't listed on the beer menu. We have tons of beer in bottles that are in display in pretty cases, but we keep the "Lite" beers in a cooler underneath the bar. They are the red-headed step children we beat before going to sleep at night.
That being said, if a customer orders one of those beers anyway, even after seeing they are not on draft and that they aren't on a menu.... he/she probably isn't going to tip well. I'm sure there are several people reading this that would disagree or use themselves as an example. That's fine. I'm right anyway. I have about 16 examples off hand of those people who order that beer and have either not tipped or tipped a quarter. So find me 16 of your examples and I'll give you a shadow of a doubt.
The one exemption from the beatings is PBR. Apparently someone along the way decided that it was "retro" to drink and we decided that even though we shove that step-child under the bar in the cooler, we are against beating him. We even put him on the menu like we are proud of him and his accomplishments. Even Corona gets beaten and she's considered much better than the "Lite" beer. She's must have that something "Extra."
Ok, I'll stop with the personification of beer.
Now about last Friday... I was running around delivering drinks when a guy hooked his arm in mine and pulled my aside by sheer force. "Do you have any bacon in this joint?" "Um... the kitchen is closed." "Shit, what about a bacon shot?" "...bacon shot...?" "Yea, I can tell you what to put in it." "ok....?" "Put in well vodka, some dark beer, and salt on top." "Are you kidding?" "No, charge me like 5.50 for it." "Ok..."
I left and got the shot. Jonny, the bartender lucky enough to make it, wondered if I had gone mad. He just shrugged his shoulders and handed it to me. I walked back to the guy and tried to hand it to him. "How much do I owe you?" he said. "4.25," I said. He handed me a $5 and told me to keep it. Gee, a 75 cent tip. "Please hand it directly to that guy over there," he said pointing to some guy drinking a bud light, "that guy won't stop talking about bacon and I can't take it. Please say its a bacon shot when you hand it to him." I walked to the guy, handed him the shot and said, "Here is your bacon shot."
Wham. A dollar bill went into my hand, from the friend who ordered it. (1.75) "What is this shot really?" the guy said eyeing it suspiciously. "It's a bacon shot" I said stone faced.
Wham. A dollar bill went into my hand. (2.75) "What is in this? Really, I want to know." "What does it matter? It's a bacon shot."
Wham. A dollar bill went into my hand. (3.75)
"Come on, is there tequila in this? I can't take tequila." "No, only bacon." "Rum?" "Bacon" "Gin?" "Bacon"
Wham. Wham. Wham. (6.75)
At this point, I realized I was neglecting my tables but I thought I'd hold out for one more round. Especially since the guy's friend was handing me dollars and laughing so hard tears were forming.
"Ok, so what... Did you go into the kitchen and fry up some bacon to squeeze the juice into this shot glass?" "No, I don't have that kind of time, but you apparently won't quit talking about bacon and your friend ordered you the bacon shot and this is what I've brought you. So whatever it is, it will forever be known as the bacon shot thanks to your obsession with bacon." Wham. Wham. Wham. Wham. (10.75) I turned, smiled at his friend who was in tears, said thank you to him, and went to my tables, 10.75 dollars richer. ******************************************
The bar was full. It had gotten to the point where it was easier and quicker to order from a waitress than to order from the bar. I was walking to the bar when a man pulled me aside and asked if he could order from me instead of waiting for the bartender to see him. I told him he could, and he ordered two Bell's Two-Hearted IPA. I put in the order and when I got back to the counter, the guy was standing close by. Jonny got out two Bell's and started to bring them over to me. "Wait, can I change that to a PBR and an IPA?" I looked at him in disbelief. Jonny looked unsure of what to do. "Sure" I said. Jonny turned to leave to go and put one back and to get a PBR. "Wait, can I make that one IPA and two PBRs?" I know annoyance crossed my face, because frustration crossed Jonny's. "Sure," I said. Jonny brought over the three beers and gave them to me. I gave them to the guy. "How much do I owe you?" "9.75" I said. "Here keep the change," he said, handing over a 20 dollar bill. "You sure?" "Oh yea, sorry about the confusion."
I waited on him hand and foot the rest of the night, even after he started tipping normally. Normal: 3 dollar beer = 1 dollar tip.
First off, I HATE fighting. I am one of those individuals who would rather get mad, walk out of the room for 30 minutes, come back into the room, apologize or talk rationally, and then forget about the reasons I got mad. Mr. Lust is one of those people who likes to just lay it all out and yell about it. Luckily, we don't fight often or it'd kill me.
Second off, how do you explain to a man, who has been given everything on a silver platter, that you need a job for money. Also, how do you explain to Mr. Silver Platter that you will be working every weekend and if he wants to see you, for the most part it'll be during the week?
This is the problem I'm having.
So the conversation starts out normally enough. "So I was talking to my mom over the weekend," says Mr. Lust. "Mmm hmmm" I said, painting the wall, not really paying close attention. "She told me that when my father and her were first dating that she had an opportunity for a night job, and he told her 'absolutely no way' so she didn't take it, and she always regretted not getting a chance to do it."
I stopped painting and my breathing had become very shallow.
"So, I'm glad I never asked you to do that when you got this job at the Black Sparrow."
I paused for a second before speaking, "Mr. Lust, you didn't have a choice on whether or not I'd take this job. I was going to take it regardless of what you said." "I didn't mean for this to get into a bad conversation" "I'm not trying to make this into a bad conversation, I'm just stating how I needed this job and you weren't going to get in the way of it." "You could have gotten another job during the day." "I have a job during the day." "I'm not going to lie, I hate this job, just because I never get to see you." "I spent the night with you 6 nights last week. I haven't seen my roommate in a week." "What? You want to spend more time with ID? Want me to take you home right now?" "Maybe, if you keep behaving this way."
The fight grew.
Before long, we were yelling at each other. Both of us are so pig-headed and dominating that it was a match that had us "talking" at equal volumes, swearing at equal levels, and really making it into a dutch-style type of fighting.
Finally, in an act of defeat, sank to the floor, put my head in my hands and said, "Mr. Lust, I don't know what to tell you. If I don't have this job, then I won't have a cell phone, so you can't call me. Then I won't have the rent money, and I won't have a place where you can visit me, and I won't have any friends, because when I have no home, I'll just be depressed. And when that happens, I won't want to date you anymore because I'll know that you're the sole reason I'm so unhappy."
This seemed to stun him into silence. We sat in silence for a good 3 minutes.
"I'm being unfair, I'm sorry QSW." I didn't say anything. "I will try harder to be understanding. I guess I didn't realize how much you needed this job since you have the other one." "I get paid only for 20 hours a week at that job." "That's true."
At that point we forgave each other. I still have some trepidation towards another one of those fights occurring before we finally reach a true understanding. At least it's a start.
That middle thing... in between the "dierks" and the "bentley" yea... that looks like a penis and balls. I decided to show that to my boss, who laughed so hard that she showed it to another co-worker... (mind you, this is an office full of ladies)... who showed it to another co-worker and soon our entire office was filled with laughter.
We decided to call him "Dierks 'Dick and Balls' Bentley"... after a co-worker pointed out that it was probably representing a "d" and a "b" with... some kind of... flame shooting out of the db... I think she meant "dierks bentley" but the "db" could represent "dick and balls" as well.
What's a throttle? Maybe that's the key to the fiery balls Bentley. Doesn't that have something to do with a tractor?
I found out last night around 9ish that I work till close tonight. Means I work from noon to 3:30am. Excitement. I slept in this morning. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, it felt as if I had been drinking heavily the night before, when I hadn't touched booze. Delirious and grumpy, I stood in the shower and looked down at the bottles of shampoo on the ground. One for me, one for Mr. Lust. Two bottles of shampoo.
Then, all of a sudden, I noticed my belly button. I wondered when the last time was that I cleaned it. And as if washing my hair wasn't a good enough excuse to take a shower, cleaning my belly button was. I wondered why I didn't take better care of the mark that use to connect me to another human being. That area use to feed me, protect me, allow me to grow... and here in my shower, I realized that I didn't even remember the last time I cleaned it. I remember when MW was pregnant how she freaked out when her belly button popped out and she tried to tape it down with duck tape. I didn't even give my own "inny" belly button a second thought after she told me she was taping her belly button down.
I wonder what other small things I take for granted on a daily basis.
Cold walk home. The wind beats at my face then at my back. My shoes crunch on the snowy sidewalk. Windows steam up in protest to the cold. I can't look inside to see what's there. I feel alone. I look down at my shoes and I see one lone leaf. I step, the leaf rolls over. Step, crunch, roll, step, crunch, roll. My only friend at 5 in the morning. I wondered how it survived into winter. I wonder what it wondered about me.
So I found this after I walked home one night drunk. Apparently in my drunk state I thought I could write poetry (? is that what that is?) of some sort. I read it later and got a kick out of it, so I'm posting it, but don't worry my blog will not because a "Drunk Poetry Blog" Ha.
I had sex and I didn't remember it until I was at work.
By 6pm on Wednesday I had worked 18 hours at Black Sparrow and slept 6 hours, in a 24 hour period. Of course, when I got off work I was wide awake and feeling up to drinking. Thankfully at that moment ID calls me and asks if I'll buy him a beer. I said "Sure," since he had just gotten done fixing FN's car. FN is gay, and sometimes forgets to "pay back" a friendship favor. I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone and "pay back" ID while curing my question of whether or not I should drink or go home.
Two beers and one glass of whiskey later, I still wasn't tired. Mr. Lust had been calling me to come over, so I left and went there. He had bought a bottle of wine for me, and already had a glass poured for me.
Great.
I watched part of a movie, drank the glass of wine, and then I learned what the saying "hit me like a ton of bricks" really meant when it came to sleeping. I had to tell myself repeatedly, "QSW, get up off the couch, do not fall asleep here, walk up the stairs, it'll only take 5 minutes to make it to the bed in PJs, you can do it."
That was the last I remembered until 2pm today, sitting at my office desk. I sat down with my almond mocha, started typing and suddenly a flash of Mr. Lust picking me off the bed flashed into my head. "Did that happen last night?" I thought.
Some more thinking.
"It did! Shit, why can't I remember this? (thinks about booze and tiredness) Did Mr. Lust take advantage? That's not like him...."
Then it all came rushing back to me...
I am a hussy when I'm drunk off of wine.
I remembered waking when Mr. Lust crawled into bed. I remembered physically rolling him over and crawling on top off him. I remembered getting him in the mood completely by saying "pull my hair, now." And I remembered him taking control after that.
"Wow, QSW." I know thats what you are saying, don't deny it.
It would explain his behavior this morning. Most of the time he wakes up and leaves without disturbing me, but this morning he woke me up to kiss me goodbye and to tell me he loved me. Honestly I was surprised... but now that I think about last night... I think he thought of it when he woke and decided to thank me for it.
I'm a shameless, wine hussy. One type of alcohol I refuse to drink at the Black Sparrow... for good reason.
Quote of the day: Bret: "Issues that my children will face, and my children's children, and my children's children's children." Jermaine: "I think we should stop with the children's children, because when kids start having kids that's just bad. I mean, you are going to get into this Russian Doll effect."
*like the title? Good. It has nothing to do with this post.
Mr. Lust's sister is in town. I had a name for her, but I forgot it. We will just call her Birdie, because I lack creativity at the moment.
So Birdie arrived yesterday, and is staying until Friday. Monday morning I got up with Mr. Lust and started doing laundry because I realized that there was no towels for the downstairs bathroom. I heard Mr. Lust leave without saying goodbye and I felt hurt. That hurt feeling lasted for 15 minutes when he reappeared downstairs with Starbucks coffee to give to me because I was doing towels for his sister.
That's more like it.
He left again, and I put the towels in the dryer and took a shower. When I returned, the towels were done, so I folded them up, and took them to the downstairs bathroom that Birdie was using. I walked into it and realized that Mr. Lust and I had both forgotten that the shower had no curtain, no rod, no hangers. Not the way I'd want to take a shower. I checked my watch and I was running early, so I took off to Wal-Mart. 20 minutes later I was back with everything the bathroom needed, plus a mirror for Birdie's upstairs bedroom because the bathroom she is using is small and cramped. I finished up and went to work.
Later that evening, Birdie arrived, hugged me, and thanked me for getting a mirror and shower curtain. She had been expecting to go to Wal-Mart and get the shower curtain, because she knew her little brother had forgotten it. "Here is a present to the lady of the house!" she said, as she pulled out a very nice bottle of wine. "Oh thank you! But, I'm not the lady of the house, you are!" I said. She looked puzzled. "Well, you are Mr. Lust's sister, technically you are closest to him and therefore the lady of the house." (why do I open my mouth sometimes?) "Oh, you are silly QSW, I wouldn't be surprised if you and I were sisters one day." I laughed. I laughed like Jemaine Clement, from Flight of the Conchords, did in the song "Jenny."
Aka, uncomfortable-like.
Suddenly it was as if a panic attack hit me and I had the sudden urge to tear the shower curtain to threads and get all my stuff out. As if reading my thoughts, his sister says, "I'm surprised you don't have any stuff here yet." "Well, I don't live here," it came out a little harsher than I expected, and his sister dropped the subject, thankfully.
The feeling remained the rest of the evening, and I ended up sleeping at 10:30pm. I woke up at 10am when my alarm went off. I picked up every article of clothing I had there, packed it all up, and I left for work. It was only after sitting at work for 30 minutes did the panicky feeling die down and I felt calmer again about my relationship.
Why do I have to be so fucked up? Matt - I begged for attention, I was hurt when he freaked out if I stayed two nights in a row at this apartment, I was shocked when he made me take my DVDs home immediately stating that he didn't want "anything but his own stuff" in his apartment. NG - Three months I was semi-happy, at least I wasn't being hurt, just ignored a little too much. Then the 4th month hit, he took home some random broad from the bars and didn't bother to tell me, or break up with me, but the "little too much ignoring" turned into flat out ignoring. Then there was Mr. Lust, who does none of the above, he's kind and sweet and generous,... and I freak out.
(Bartender tells joke) Server:(laughs) Customer #1:(laughs) Customer #2: (gets a serious expression on her face and looks at Server) Your laugh is very experimental.
Door Man: Man, its slow for a Saturday night. Bartender Man: Yea, I wish I hadn't forgotten my dildo. Second Bartender Man: Yea, Me too.
Man: So, this kid is awesome, he has to go in for a major surgery twice a year to replace his feeding tube, yet he still smiles and runs around like there was nothing wrong with him. Woman: That's sad and sweet at the same time. Man: Yea, he probably won't live to see year 20. Woman: You are going to make me cry. Man: Just the fact that he's made it to age 6 means he beat the odds by 300%. Woman: Oh god, I'm seriously depressed right now. Man: Could you imagine life, knowing that you might not see the day that you could walk into a bar legally, or even go to college? Woman: You are like the Hallmark channel that won't quit.
Lady: The chalkboard says, "Your just drunk." I hate it when people don't use "your" properly. Friend: I hate that too. Seriously, its not a possessive on "just drunk." Bartender(who was listening while cleaning): Oh. (goes and gets a ladder, climbs it, and changes it to "you're") Lady: He must love me. He's correcting English for me.
