Got this e-mail at work yesterday morning.
Subject: in need of help
hey when u get this message contact me it's urgent at (buttheaded_ex_hubby)@hotmail.com
--CR
I did reply, yes; I'm curious to see what "help" he needs.
But he better not be looking towards MY checking account for relief; aside from the vehement and repeated "fuck off" such a request would elicit, that account's got $85 in it right now, and I don't next get paid til 3 weeks from tomorrow.
Thursday, July 7, 2005
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
Verdict
He (It's not a good sign, is it, when I say "he" and it's just sorta implied that "he" is probably NOT the "he" I live with, because why would I be writing about HIM?)--anyway, he was very impressed with the book--even offering substantive praise/criticism, which I just love (especially, if we're going to be perfectly honest here, when it's coming from a hot guy I wanna screw.) And yes, to those of you inclined to notice such things (as I am), I am aware that it is now a month since I last updated. Two weeks of that time doesn't count, though, since I was grossly and violently ill.
I'm working on it, y'all. And if I wasn't, I am now.
Other than the Brit--my usual bright spot--this day was completely and utterly for shit. You know what I did at work today? I sat in meetings, or dealt with the results of said meetings, for six and a half hours. Which I will NOT get back, in case you're wondering; they're lost forever to the mists of time and bad fortune. Worse, they were meetings about the infernal database, which remains a clusterfuck of inhuman proportions. Six and a half hours of "why doesn't it work?" "I dunno...it just doesn't." And tomorrow doesn't look much better. No news on the job, either...It's a good thing I'm a patient woman. But if I don't get THIS job, I will not be happy.
The best thing about today? It's Tuesday, not Monday. Which means that Friday will come one day earlier, thank god. The other best thing: my skinny jeans are getting to be too big for me...although if I keep eating like I did today, that trend is gonna reverse in a big blazing hurry.
I'm a little afraid of what I'm putting on the Brit, in my own mind. I have to remind myself to be very, very cautious and not expect...well, anything, yet, but even if there ever comes a time when I CAN expect anything, not to expect the past to repeat itself. I think that's part of the reason I've confined myself to guys like CR and LJ--the unconscious type; I'm afraid if I get a conscious one, that I might chase him away with the weight of too much hope. And the Brit most certainly is a conscious one...
God, I'm such a mess. (shrug) At least I recognize it.
I'm working on it, y'all. And if I wasn't, I am now.
Other than the Brit--my usual bright spot--this day was completely and utterly for shit. You know what I did at work today? I sat in meetings, or dealt with the results of said meetings, for six and a half hours. Which I will NOT get back, in case you're wondering; they're lost forever to the mists of time and bad fortune. Worse, they were meetings about the infernal database, which remains a clusterfuck of inhuman proportions. Six and a half hours of "why doesn't it work?" "I dunno...it just doesn't." And tomorrow doesn't look much better. No news on the job, either...It's a good thing I'm a patient woman. But if I don't get THIS job, I will not be happy.
The best thing about today? It's Tuesday, not Monday. Which means that Friday will come one day earlier, thank god. The other best thing: my skinny jeans are getting to be too big for me...although if I keep eating like I did today, that trend is gonna reverse in a big blazing hurry.
I'm a little afraid of what I'm putting on the Brit, in my own mind. I have to remind myself to be very, very cautious and not expect...well, anything, yet, but even if there ever comes a time when I CAN expect anything, not to expect the past to repeat itself. I think that's part of the reason I've confined myself to guys like CR and LJ--the unconscious type; I'm afraid if I get a conscious one, that I might chase him away with the weight of too much hope. And the Brit most certainly is a conscious one...
God, I'm such a mess. (shrug) At least I recognize it.
Monday, July 4, 2005
Saved By Cowardice And A Lack Of Information
I was in just the sort of mood tonight that, if I'd been feeling brave enough, I would have called the Brit and told him to meet me downtown at the fireworks. And maybe I would have even been brave enough to steer the conversation in a certain dangerous direction--hey, I said "maybe".
IF I'd been feeling brave enough. And IF I'd had his phone number, which I don't. Probably a very good thing--no use letting my brain write checks my mouth can't cash, or something.
(I did, though, e-mail him a copy of the book thus far--since he had to work today, I figured I'd give myself a one-day buffer zone between when he would read it and when I would next see him. We'll see what he thinks.)
Back to work tomorrow, and it's a two-supervisor day: Beverly AND Nancy (who the Brit and I have taken to calling "Socks", after I advanced the opinion that Nancy couldn't spout the party line any better if she were made of felt and had Beverly's hand up her ass.) I'm hoping to hear about Consolation-Prize Job this week...they asked for my references, so I'm hopeful.
IF I'd been feeling brave enough. And IF I'd had his phone number, which I don't. Probably a very good thing--no use letting my brain write checks my mouth can't cash, or something.
(I did, though, e-mail him a copy of the book thus far--since he had to work today, I figured I'd give myself a one-day buffer zone between when he would read it and when I would next see him. We'll see what he thinks.)
Back to work tomorrow, and it's a two-supervisor day: Beverly AND Nancy (who the Brit and I have taken to calling "Socks", after I advanced the opinion that Nancy couldn't spout the party line any better if she were made of felt and had Beverly's hand up her ass.) I'm hoping to hear about Consolation-Prize Job this week...they asked for my references, so I'm hopeful.
Conversations In Passing
Yesterday, walking towards Pulaski to catch the bus, I was stopped in my tracks by a teeny-tiny little girl on a Big Wheel. She was adorable, maybe about two or three.
Looking at the house I was walking past, she informed me "Nobody lives there."
"Really?" I asked, and she nodded.
"Where you goin'?" she asked me.
"I'm goin' to my momma's house," I told her.
"Where your momma's house?"
"Well, it's kinda far, so I have to take the bus..."
Suddenly from the porch came another voice--a woman smoking a cigarette, evidently the little girl's mother. I hadn't seen her.
"You live around here?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Just the other side of Kildare."
"You do drugs?" she asked.
"No," I said, and didn't add not anymore.
"That's good," the woman said. "You live with your family?"
"No, just me. And my boyfriend."
"Your boyfriend black?"
I nodded.
She took a long drag off her cigarette. "That's why, then."
"Actually, he came along AFTER I decided I wanted to live here. Mostly I just like it here."
"Well, that's good...I don't discriminate. Fact is, most of y'all treat us better than the black folks treat us, sometimes."
I laughed. "Honestly? Sometimes I think y'all treat us better than the white folks do. There's some times even -I- don't like white folks much."
"I heard that," she said.
I was getting ready to move on when she said, "You got kids?"
"Nope," I told her.
"Kids are a gift," she said. "What you waitin' for?" she asked.
"Really? I have no idea," I said.
THIS, should you wonder, is why I love my neighborhood. People will stop you on the street and ask totally inappropriate questions in a totally comfortable, natural way. I'm all about motivation when it comes to asking questions, which is why I'm okay with this--in this case, she really wanted to know. No artifice, no dissembling--just a rapid-fire series of highly-personal questions interspersed with her opinions of the answers. What's not to love??
Looking at the house I was walking past, she informed me "Nobody lives there."
"Really?" I asked, and she nodded.
"Where you goin'?" she asked me.
"I'm goin' to my momma's house," I told her.
"Where your momma's house?"
"Well, it's kinda far, so I have to take the bus..."
Suddenly from the porch came another voice--a woman smoking a cigarette, evidently the little girl's mother. I hadn't seen her.
"You live around here?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Just the other side of Kildare."
"You do drugs?" she asked.
"No," I said, and didn't add not anymore.
"That's good," the woman said. "You live with your family?"
"No, just me. And my boyfriend."
"Your boyfriend black?"
I nodded.
She took a long drag off her cigarette. "That's why, then."
"Actually, he came along AFTER I decided I wanted to live here. Mostly I just like it here."
"Well, that's good...I don't discriminate. Fact is, most of y'all treat us better than the black folks treat us, sometimes."
I laughed. "Honestly? Sometimes I think y'all treat us better than the white folks do. There's some times even -I- don't like white folks much."
"I heard that," she said.
I was getting ready to move on when she said, "You got kids?"
"Nope," I told her.
"Kids are a gift," she said. "What you waitin' for?" she asked.
"Really? I have no idea," I said.
THIS, should you wonder, is why I love my neighborhood. People will stop you on the street and ask totally inappropriate questions in a totally comfortable, natural way. I'm all about motivation when it comes to asking questions, which is why I'm okay with this--in this case, she really wanted to know. No artifice, no dissembling--just a rapid-fire series of highly-personal questions interspersed with her opinions of the answers. What's not to love??
Sunday, July 3, 2005
In Case You Thought It Ever Went Away
Conversation from today's ride home with Mom:
Me: (talks about the Brit extensively, recounting various conversations, etc.)
Mom: You sound...smitten.
Me: Yeah, kinda, a little.
Mom: Well, just keep losing weight and who knows--maybe you'll have a chance!
:::sigh:::
Me: (talks about the Brit extensively, recounting various conversations, etc.)
Mom: You sound...smitten.
Me: Yeah, kinda, a little.
Mom: Well, just keep losing weight and who knows--maybe you'll have a chance!
:::sigh:::
Weird Science
All the 'phobes out there who claim homosexuality is "unnatural" and doesn't occur in other species might want to either stay away from or check out my living room, where for much of the past few days we have had Hot Male Cat-On-Cat Humping Action. Which...not that there's anything WRONG with that, but it's a wee bit disturbing to watch. It's like, could you please go do that somewhere else?
Tim's big cat, Cassidy, is the top in this whole scenario, which is probably why I'm so conflicted about the whole deal; I don't LIKE this cat. I feel it's safe to say that this is perhaps the only cat I've ever met which I have actively disliked, even before he bit me on the finger for no reason, hard enough to draw blood. Anyway, Cass is the humper; Mikey and Sosa, Tim's other two cats, are apparently interchangeable as hump-ees. And they don't seem to be enjoying it, either, judging from their expressions and their struggles to get the big lummox off them--Cass is about thirty pounds, I would guess, whereas the twins are of average cat size. They seem a bit...submissive, though...sometimes they just lay there and look resigned.
The funniest thing about all this, though, is that Whitey--my cat--has proven once and for all that he is a thug among thugs, a true cat of the 'hood: Every time Cassidy so much as LOOKS at him, Whitey sets up an unearthly growl of purest hatred. "Don't you come near me," he says (I speak fluent Cat), and then some less-than-polite feline terminology regarding same-sex humping.
My cat is a Republican. Who would have thought???
Tim's big cat, Cassidy, is the top in this whole scenario, which is probably why I'm so conflicted about the whole deal; I don't LIKE this cat. I feel it's safe to say that this is perhaps the only cat I've ever met which I have actively disliked, even before he bit me on the finger for no reason, hard enough to draw blood. Anyway, Cass is the humper; Mikey and Sosa, Tim's other two cats, are apparently interchangeable as hump-ees. And they don't seem to be enjoying it, either, judging from their expressions and their struggles to get the big lummox off them--Cass is about thirty pounds, I would guess, whereas the twins are of average cat size. They seem a bit...submissive, though...sometimes they just lay there and look resigned.
The funniest thing about all this, though, is that Whitey--my cat--has proven once and for all that he is a thug among thugs, a true cat of the 'hood: Every time Cassidy so much as LOOKS at him, Whitey sets up an unearthly growl of purest hatred. "Don't you come near me," he says (I speak fluent Cat), and then some less-than-polite feline terminology regarding same-sex humping.
My cat is a Republican. Who would have thought???
Friday, July 1, 2005
Significant?
Fridays before the holiday weekends are generally ghost towns among the staff at Place Where I Work--at least, among the higher-up staff. The nice part of that, of course, is the sudden ability to do whatever needs doing without having to report to six different people about where I'm going, what I'm doing and why.
So this afternoon, when I went to the other building on the way to one of our offsite offices and the Brit mentioned in passing that he had some errands to run, including a stop at the same office I was headed to, you can imagine who jumped at the chance to drive him there.
We spent most of the afternoon together, driving all over the North Shore in search of sidewalk chalk, a helium tank, and a network connection for the offsite office. We ended up with two out of three--the office just won't connect, but that's a problem for Tuesday morning, not Friday afternoon. And somewhere along the line, between the non-connecting office and the helium tank, he started talking about his home situation--most specifically, a couple of issues with his girlfriend, who may not be quite as cool as I envision her. Lots of yelling from her end of things, it sounds like, and some moderate-to-severe, totally unjustified trust issues, as well. He's always, up til now, painted a fairly-rosy picture of life chez Brit, so this was a departure--enough of a departure to give me pause.
He also told me a couple of other secrets, which I am not at liberty to discuss (yeah, I know--like anyone here could do anything with the info--but I PROMISED) but I'm glad he trusts me enough to tell me.
All in all, an interesting afternoon to say the least. Fridays are just the best.
So this afternoon, when I went to the other building on the way to one of our offsite offices and the Brit mentioned in passing that he had some errands to run, including a stop at the same office I was headed to, you can imagine who jumped at the chance to drive him there.
We spent most of the afternoon together, driving all over the North Shore in search of sidewalk chalk, a helium tank, and a network connection for the offsite office. We ended up with two out of three--the office just won't connect, but that's a problem for Tuesday morning, not Friday afternoon. And somewhere along the line, between the non-connecting office and the helium tank, he started talking about his home situation--most specifically, a couple of issues with his girlfriend, who may not be quite as cool as I envision her. Lots of yelling from her end of things, it sounds like, and some moderate-to-severe, totally unjustified trust issues, as well. He's always, up til now, painted a fairly-rosy picture of life chez Brit, so this was a departure--enough of a departure to give me pause.
He also told me a couple of other secrets, which I am not at liberty to discuss (yeah, I know--like anyone here could do anything with the info--but I PROMISED) but I'm glad he trusts me enough to tell me.
All in all, an interesting afternoon to say the least. Fridays are just the best.
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