One

I was just sitting here, still watching TV. And perhaps it’s having AM2’s laptop sitting right here, making it easy to write while wrapped up in a blanket and watching TV at the same time (LOVE THAT ABILITIY!). And I’m thinking about CB and Mud. And what are the chances that I would have found two men like CB and Mud back to back?

Mud. I have just started reconnecting with him, just barely. Just in sending him jokes and getting the occasional one back. And I know that when it comes right down to it, he let me down. Not once, not twice. But several times. He was simply unable to give me anything. He was not able to come up here and be with me. He was not willing to consider that he and I could have had a life together. He wasn’t willing to change for me. He was afraid to try with me. We got along so well. Okay, so our religious views didn’t mesh. And I am definitely more daring than he is. He got my sense of humour, though. He understood parts of me that I’m not sure anyone else has ever gotten. And he loved to touch – clearly that must be a Pisces trait, because he told me how he felt by touching me. But c’mon, he was unwilling to try. He wasn’t… he was scared to try. And that’s so disappointing. Everyone gets hurt sometimes, but you know, if he’d opened the door, I never would’ve hurt him. But instead of trying, he slammed that damn door shut in my face.

And now, I’m with CB. And I love him. And I know that. I know I haven’t told him that, but it strikes me as something that you should say to someone in their presence, rather than to their Blackberry or to the ear via a cellphone. And CB frustrates me and intrigues me and I’m chasing him in the same way that I chased Mud. I’m the first to say anything – like I miss you or I’m glad to be with you or “It’s scary to realize how much you mean to me.” And I know I’ll be the first to say I love you. And that’s okay. I can handle that. But the two men are so different. CB makes me feel safe and secure. He makes me happy to be with him. And I fucking love his smile. I love when he actually shows those teeth and now I can understand why gay guys have hit on him. I wish I got that smile more often. Every day. Six or twelve times a day.

So really, is one better for me than the other? I was just sitting here thinking about this. Perhaps not. But one glaring truth has to stand out to anyone with half a brain. And yet realizing it in my own head is a big deal and it’s something that I’m going to go to bed thinking about tonight. The one thing that makes a huge difference, and the one thing that means one man is more suitable for me than the other. One thing that means if I give myself to this man, I’m totally lost in a way that I’ve never been before….

I have tried to break up with CB twice. Well, no, I haven’t actively tried to break up with him. But twice we’ve had discussions that I thought would lead to the end of our relationship. Instead… he countered my arguments / requests ohallright demands with a willingness to try. He is willing to alter his own behaviour to be what I need. Mud was afraid to try. CB has shown me twice that he wants to try. So if I give in, if I give him all I have… he’s willing to try. He’s not going to leave me hanging, desperately hoping for someone to meet me halfway.

 

I Believe

I’m at AM2’s, sitting on her couch, wrapped in her Hello Kitty blanket, typing away on her laptop (one of three computers in the room) while Rick Mercer is on TV. I just finished dinner with CB. It was so fantastic to see him after a freakin’ week! He got to Swiss Chalet before me, and then we had dinner. I touched him just about as much as I could. No kisses, of course, since I still have a cold, but he did walk me to my car after dinner which I thought was just the sweetest thing ever!!

You know, half the time, I don’t give a damn what he talks about. As long as he listens when I talk, I don’t care what he talks about. And he doesn’t mind when I mock him. A little. Or a lot. Like today when he did nothing but bitch about work. He hates his current job, but it’s almost done.

Today at Hell was just that. Dawn’s friend turned on her PC for me so I could access her email. I mean, she hasn’t been in in a week. I found three quotes that needed to be done and a couple of other things that customers hadn’t decided to forward to me because they’re morons. Or whatever.

I’m watching Rick Mercer. He’s got a gymnast (gold medalist) doing speed skating, because he sprained his knee. It’s hilarious, watching this poor schmuck schlep along. Hilarious. But it is neat seeing the way that Calgary is training the winter athletes for the Olympics…

Anyway, where was I? Wait, still watching this. Anyway. So Dawn is still out. I have a lot of stuff to do. It’s nice, because my days are actually busy, and Lord knows I prefer being busy to being bored and quiet. Tomorrow night I’m at CM with the newest employee. That should be interesting. I’m getting the impression that this blog entry is a little scattered. *sigh*

Okay, I did have a few things to say. Both of my best friends are going through some serious changes in their personal lives. I told Pretty a week or so ago that I felt change was coming. That something was going to alter. And then T. started therapy, and now Pretty is reviewing her life. And you know, perhaps it wasn’t change for me that I saw. Perhaps it was change for my friends. I think this weekend is going to be very important for all three of us. I feel almost like Charlie’s Angels… we’re three incredible women who are going to be in the same place for 72 hours. Who knows what we can accomplish!? I wish more women were … so totally and undeniably supportive of each other. T. has taught me that. In order to get support from women, you need to support them back. I can’t think of a single catty thing I’d say about T. or Pretty to someone else. I wouldn’t shit-talk these two women. And how many women can genuinely say that about their best friends? I’m so blessed.

 

Live and Let Die

So I survived my first twelve-hour day in almost a week. Dawn is still out, she still has pneumonia. The irony didn’t strike me until I got home – TheSupervisor told me that she had a “serious condition” and he wouldn’t be sure when she’d be back in. Then about five minutes later, he came over and asked if pneumonia was a “lung problem”. So clearly “pneumonia” doesn’t translate in Chinglish. Oh well. I’m keeping up with the work, for the most part. I’m sure there’s a pile of her stuff that her customers aren’t sending me, but I can only do so much.

I worked at CM tonight, too. I was just about dead on my feet by the time 3p.m. rolled around, so you can imagine how I felt by the time 5:15 arrived. I’m still taking OTC meds, but if I keep improving, I should have this thing kicked in a few days. . . I hope.

Got another call from the doctor’s office today. For those keeping count, that’s three calls based off one physical. The first was for the Vitamin D deficiency. The second was for the vaginal bacterial infection. (took the last of that medication last night, thank God.) This third call was to state that I had abnormal squamous cells present. That means I get to have another PAP in another six months. It’s funny; (almost) my very first PAP was abnormal. I’m not really concerned; according to that site there (and don’t we all believe everything we read on the internet?), something as simple as an infection can cause abnormal cells. And we all read the first part of this paragraph about the infection, right? Anyway, we’ll see what happens in July.

The bruises are fading from my fall. The one on my arm looks like a dirty spot now, and the one on my leg that barely came up is starting to look normal again, too. But my butt might take a while. I expect “black” might need a few weeks to work itself out.

In good news – and slightly hysterical given the above information – I have been approved by Manulife for life insurance in the sum of $100,000. I’m healthy enough in all the right places. rofl.

CB has been staying in touch with me, though I haven’t seen him because he’s afraid of getting sick. He’s been BBM’ing or calling on a pretty regular basis, and yesterday he told me to “get better so I can see ya”. That was really sweet. AM2 asked what we were doing for Valentine’s Day, and she was surprised that he isn’t coming north with Pretty and T. and Zoey. But you know, the boy’s been dumped twice on Valentine’s Day, and our relationship is still relatively new (5 months) and we’re not… anyway. I just think it takes a lot of pressure off the relationship and off him if I’m not here for Valentine’s Day, expecting dinner and a movie and all that other crap. Not that I don’t like that other crap, but still.

I’ve been talking to T. about her therapy lately. I’m intrigued by the idea of getting “shrunk” and I wonder what someone would say about me. It’s probably something we should all go through at one point in our lives. Yeah, maybe when I’m rich. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m surprised how often I agree with the good doctor and/or how often his advice echoes the same thing that I’ve been telling her for years (where’s that tattoo!!).

Anyway, I’m on to chapter three in my Lipstadt book, and though I must admit it’s a “harder” read than what I’m used to, I’m enjoying exercising my brain. You get out of that academic-style of reading when you don’t do it all the time. I find myself eager to take notes and really make sure I’ve grasped the concept of her chapters to the point that I wrote a summary for chapter two. I have to decide what books I’m taking with me to the cottage this weekend. I think the Bible will be one of them. It seems to lend itself well to that atmosphere of quietude and almost loneliness…

Anyway, Indigo is sitting here, impatiently waiting for his head to get rubbed.

 

Only The Good Die Young.

I am sick. By my count, I’ve been sick since sometime on Wednesday. Today is Sunday. I am so tired of being sick. I sleep eight or ten hours and wake up exhausted and unable to sleep any more. I can’t remember the last time I got this much sleep. I took Thursday off from work because I woke up, got in the shower, and promptly felt like I was going to keel over. So I got out of the shower and I dry-heaved into the toilet. Then I called in sick. I stopped taking the meds I’d started because they made my already-dry throat turn into needles of pain.

I started taking the pills again last night. I slept like a rock on top of my clean sheets, wrapped in my sleeping bag so I wouldn’t get Vicks all over my bed. I woke up at 8:30 this morning and took another two pills. I just got out of a shower that may or may not have been in excess of half an hour long, and I can breathe through my nose right now. But my balance is shot because my ears are plugged, so consequently my stomach is really upset. I ate a banana with the pills earlier just so there’d be something down there. God, I hope that continuing to take the pills helps get rid of this, because I am just about on my last nerve and totally unable to do anything else. The cough is helping, because at least it’s bringing stuff up. But it’s not slimy and green, it’s clear as day, except for a little … nevermind. I know it’s my blog, but still.

According to everything I can find online, clear snot is good snot. So maybe I’m doing okay, and I was just wrong to go off the meds the other day. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. But I honestly don’t think a doctor is going to do a damn thing for me.

 

Goodnight Kiss

It’s a little thing with you and me
But it means everything
It’s all I need to find my peace of mind
And dream

I am catching a cold. I can feel it in the back of my throat, and I’m fighting it with hot tea and an early bedtime tonight. At least, that’s the intention. We’ll see how it goes. Dawn is out for the rest of the week – she has walking pneumonia. Which, for the record, is contagious.

I got my books from Chapters-Indigo today. I bought Denying the Holocaust and Hitler, Germans, and the Final Solution. I read Lipstadt first in university; she wrote the textbook that we used in my Holocaust class. We were the first class to ever use the book (it wasn’t even a “real” copy), and it was just fantastic. Not fantastic, I mean, the subject matter is awful, but it was one of the best textbooks I ever got.

CB came over tonight and we went out for dinner using the gift certificate that T. gave me for Christmas. The bill came in at $49.11, and the gc was for $50. CB left a $10 tip, and that was that. We had a good couple of hours together. He dropped me off at home just after eight and headed home himself because he had a ton of laundry to do. I’ll catch up with him again on Friday night, since I’m off. He basically said I could stay over Friday night, but he’s leaving his place at 6:15 (no later) Saturday morning, so I’m not so sure about that… And I’d have to insert that stupid ovule at his house, and it’s embarrassing enough doing it at my house. We’ll see how I feel Friday.

I was talking to T. tonight via BBM after I got home; CB was saying that he’d bought a $200 Diesel shirt and he was upset he couldn’t fit into it anymore. That is just… I told CB that his lifestyle was completely past mine. That I couldn’t… That… Well, that I bought everything on sale, and I sure as hell couldn’t fathom spending $200 on a shirt. I don’t mean to make him feel bad, I mean, it’s his money and he should spend it as he pleases. I don’t mean to make him sound frivolous. Perhaps I should mention that when I talk to him tonight.

But anyway, what I was saying to T. was, is it wrong that I look at CB and see what I could have and think that I deserve it? I’ve done without so much for so long (let’s face it – I’m only rich in one way, and that’s my friends), it would be nice to have nice things for once. I guess that makes me sound bitchy and selfish and self-serving. But isn’t every relationship a trade-off of sorts? If I take care of him – if I nurture him, is it wrong to want him to take care of me? God, see, that just comes out wrong. It’s not like I want or expect him to buy me things. But he could. T. reversed it. She asked me, “Is it wrong that I want an assistant to answer my 1500 emails and do my dishes and walk my dog?” And I think absolutely not. She has so much more … skill. She doesn’t need to waste her time on dishes. But I’m good at taking care of people, and I wouldn’t look at it as dishes. I’d look at it as helping T. be more successful because that’s one less thing she has to do.

I was always – even when I worked at the steel factory – more impressed with the executive assistants than with the executives themselves. Perhaps because I recognize in myself that I’m never going to be the executive, but I would make a kiss-ass assistant. Is it wrong to approach my relationship with CB in a similar manner? I mean, the guy gets shit done. Something needs doing, he does it. He just takes care of it. He makes his own decisions. He doesn’t need someone else to help him make up his mind. I told him today that I had talked to AM2 about the conversation CB and I had had on Sunday and that she had said I was a control freak. CB looked at me, and shrugged. “I don’t think you are,” he said. And then he changed the topic. Part of it was because he’s male, and thus self-absorbed, but part of it was also because he’d made his decision and as far as he was concerned, that aspect of the conversation was over.

I don’t know. I’m wrestling with this a bit because I want to make sure that I”m not with CB for materialistic reasons. I don’t want that to be a factor in why I stay with him or why we stay together. As much as I tell him that I don’t care that he has a Beemer in the garage, it is one of the first things out of my mouth when I talk to other people about him. I tell myself it’s because I want to make the point that he’s successful and intelligent and he’s got his head on straight, but is it really? Or am I just a girl who’s impressed by material stuff? On the other hand, the boy hasn’t bought me anything except a mani and a pedi, and we take turns paying for dinner. So how materialistic can I possibly be, if I’m still in the relationship?

Anyway. I’m still sore and bruised. My entire right side aches from the fall. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. Bleh.

 

TubThumpin’

I get knocked down, but I get up again…

My ass is killin me. So is my right calf, which sports a nifty skin scrape and a lumpy bit right on my bone. I have a bruise on my left forearm that’s working its way to the surface, bit by bit. There’s a bruise the size of a small dinner roll on my right hip, which has gone from not existing at all to turning purple to turning black tonight. My shoulder is so damn sore, and my left hand is scraped up too.

I fell down the stairs last night. I didn’t think it was that bad when I did it. It wasn’t. I thought, as I went down the stairs, what would happen if I fell?And then I fell. I caught my heel in the hem of my jeans, and me and the recycling bin rolled our way down the last three steps. I think the bruise on my forearm is from hitting the edge of the recycling bin. My right hip hit the ground, which accounts for that bruise. And I know I rolled, because my head banged off the bin, which went down before me. I just ache.

I talked to CB tonight, and he was talking about photos when I told him how badly I hurt. I almost let it go, but you know, I hurt. So I brought it up again, and asked him why he wasn’t here to rub my back. It was purely rhetorical, but, oh, he said. It’s that bad? Yes, it is. And I need at least a little sympathy, please.

Mom told me last night when she was on the phone with me that all she wanted for her birthday was to go away for a night and not have to take care of anyone. Then Dad brought it up again this morning, and she freaked. I guess she was mad at him last night, too. Dad called me because he needed a hug today. I told him I’d call her and see what I could get out of her, but she just got right pissed off and I got nowhere. Sometimes she’s so damn stubborn… worse than me. She probably has talked herself out of it now. Argh. Anyway, I’ll text Dad tomorrow and tell him that according to her, she wants to finish the bathroom before she does anything.

And Sis’s car died today. Early assumptions are that she managed somehow to blow a piston? Is that the right terminology, Pretty? Something about the timing chain and then skipping and then throwing a piston. That’s it. Throwing. Not blowing.

Anyway, Mom and Dad expect that they’re going to be on the hook for a new one, but no one is sure at this point because Sis hasn’t told them anything yet.

Okay, I’m tired, I’m damn cold, and I have to figure out how to get that stupid ovule in me tonight without dropping the damn thing. Maybe by the time I insert the last one, I’ll have it down-pat.

 

All Revved Up With No Place to Go

Saturday, Pretty, T.and I went to the St.Jacob’s Farmer’s Market. We bought cheese, and some meats, meatballs and chicken and so forth. Then we got back in the car and went to lunch – sandwiches and pop and a danish for dessert.

CB was supposed to come by in the evening. He’d mentioned maybe going out, because he’d gotten a paycheque. So I went home and took a nap, thinking maybe we’d go out for dinner and then a movie? But I got a call from him at 5:30 to tell me that he was tired, had already been to his dad’s and his friend’s, and now he wanted to go home and relax. Just relax. I was angry, and confused.

Then T. called; her carbon monoxide detector was going off. So I went screaming over to her place to make sure she didn’t blow up or die or anything like that. I wasn’t pleased, and I think she might’ve just picked up on that. So I texted CB, and told him I was not going up to his place and that I was disappointed in him, and that I’d needed him Thursday when he also cancelled on me, and that I felt like I was totally unimportant to him and that it wasn’t fair to me. He called me about half an hour later and we yelled at each other for eight minutes and thirty-two seconds before I hung up on him.

The gist of it was that he was busy. I know he’s busy, goddamn it. I work two jobs. Everyone is busy. He had to go help his dad. He had to go help his friend (he’s in really rough shape medically, so that’s not just lip service, it’s true). He had to get up and go to the gym at four a.m., which meant he was too tired to see me. I said it didn’t take him any time at all to make a phone call or send me a text and that he hadn’t given me any indication that he gave a rat’s ass that he hadn’t seen me in a week. “It’s only been five days, Blue!” He said. “What if I had to go away for a job for two weeks?” I couldn’t even believe he would say something so asinine.

I said, “Fine. It’s all my fault. I’m asking too much from you.” And he replied with, “No, you’re not asking too much. It’s not your fault!” So what the fuck. I’m not asking too much, it’s not my fault, but you refuse to give me the attention that I need. I hung up on him. Not one of my prouder moments, but I simply… I was so frustrated that I was shaking.

I called T. and told her what had transpired. She talked me down a bit, and we both agreed I should call him back. Which I did. I left a message on his voicemail that he needed to understand where I was coming from. And that perhaps he didn’t want a relationship. That he wasn’t making time for a relationship. And that he was doing it on purpose, whether he realized it or not.

He called back a couple of hours later, and I said T. was over and we were going to watch a movie. It was almost nine, for God’s sake. And his response was, “Oh. I thought we were doing something tonight, but I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Whatever. I was so angry. T. told me that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wasn’t asking for too much. She asked me what CB did to make me happy. And I just stared at her. What an awful thing, to want to defend him and not to be able to think of a single thing that he did to make me happy. I mean, besides the cuddling and the sex and that one time he drew a bath for me.

I went to bed, angry and upset and still not myself. I had a restless night, thinking of all the things that I wanted to say to CB and just couldn’t… couldn’t think of how to say properly without coming off like a whiny girlfriend. But damn it, I’m a good girlfriend. But the fact that he’s being a bad boyfriend is making me a bad friend. Pretty told us in the car on the way to the farmer’s market that Farmer had bought her flowers. And my response wasn’t “oh that’s awesome!” it was, “Oh, he did that because you had coffee with your ex the other night.” What a shit thing to say. I cursed myself as soon as I said it. I was jealous and envious and angry that their relationship is going so well when I feel like I’m constantly chasing CB for attention. And I don’t think he’s deliberately making me do that, but it is happening.

Fast-forward to tonight. He called around 3:30 and said he was coming over, and showed up about twenty minutes later. I have no idea where he was. I came out from drying my hair and sat in my chair and gave one-word answers to his questions. I was not at all happy and I just … all the things I’d thought of saying so calmly flew out the window. But in a gesture that’s pure CB and totally not anything TheEx would do and completely what I needed, he sighed, moved some things around on the loveseat, stood up and grabbed my hands and pulled me over to sit next to him. And then I cried.

I told him I couldn’t keep doing this, that it wasn’t fair to me. I told him that I felt like I was unimportant. He told me about the job – and I said that it didn’t matter, after this job, there would be another job. And then another one. He agreed, but he said that this job was worse because the hours were much longer than anything he was used to. Okay, that’s good to know. That does make a difference. He said he wasn’t used to being in a relationship and admitted that maybe he’s thick about some things. I said he needed to think about whether he really wanted a relationship or not. That I’d had FWBs who spent more time with me.

I said I knew I was a good girlfriend. I said it might be against women’s lib but that I liked taking care of him. I like cooking and baking and I don’t mind cleaning up. But I said he was not a good boyfriend. That he wasn’t there for me. I told him about what T. had asked me and that I couldn’t think of anything that he did specifically for me to make me happy. I said it wasn’t about going out or anything like that, but even a text in the middle of the day would help. I said that I sent him texts, and I knew he’d read them, but I got no response. So I didn’t know if I was just… (I lost my voice here) annoying him or what. He said there was no way I was annoying him, but he didn’t always have time to respond, sometimes he was busy. I laughed (a little snidely) and said that everyone is busy.

I said that I wasn’t asking to spend every minute with him, but that right now, I felt like I wasn’t an important part of his life. He told me again about getting soaked the other day and wanting to go home. I said that was fine, but he hadn’t given me the opportunity to comfort him. I knew that he had things that need doing – we all need time to “do” things, and man, I of all people understand that, but that a ten-minute phone call once a night isn’t going to take up a lot of his time.

I told him it’s been at least two weeks since he asked how my day was. “Really?” He said. “Really.” I replied. I think that surprised him. I said he showed little to no interest in my life, and that it was wearing. I told him that he almost never initiated contact with me, and that (I cried here too) it was hard for me to keep chasing him for attention. It was emotionally wearing and I was worth more than that. I am worth more than the way he’s been treating me.

He asked if he’d improved on the other things I’d mentioned at our last “meeting”. I said yes, he had. He tells me now when he’s going to be late. He’s not as afraid of telling me that I’m “cute”. So he is improving. I had mentioned to him during sex that pressing my clit like it was an elevator button didn’t get him anywhere; light touches made a difference. And he incorporated that last week all on his own. So it’s not that he’s unwilling to be taught. He’s proving that he can learn and is willing to modify his behaviour.

He said perhaps he needed to review his priorities and understand that I couldn’t be the last one to get his attention. But he also explained that he’s the only one in his family without heart trouble and he wants to keep it that way, which is why he’s so insistent about losing weight. Okay, I didn’t know that. So why can’t we go to the gym together? “Oh,” he said. That hadn’t even crossed his mind, but I’ll give him a bit of time and I’ll bring it up again.  

T. suggested that perhaps he didn’t know how to be in a relationship, but we both thought he was too smart for that. But you know, I talked briefly to Dad (via IM) today about it, and he suggested the same thing. Perhaps CB just doesn’t know that a phonecall is worth as much as a visit. Perhaps it doesn’t occur to him that every now and then, I need to hear that I’m special to him.

He said that I was welcome up there during the week, on the weekend, whenever I wanted. He said he thought I realized that. He told me that he cared for me, that he didn’t want to lose me. I told him that I was proud to be with him, that I loved spending time with him, but that when he wasn’t with me, he wasn’t there at all, and that I couldn’t do that. So I guess we’ll see. I do love being with him. I do love taking care of him. We talked about Hitler tonight and orgies and decorating his living room. He’s not stupid, he’s not unintelligent, he’s not unwilling. How can I throw away what might be a perfectly good boyfriend, if I can just mould him a bit? He’s willing to put in the work, so, am I?

 

Had A Bad Day

I had a dream last night that I’m not recording in my blog… mostly because it was a sex dream, and frankly, no one needs to read those things. Let me just say that there is no way one could clean up jizz with cotton balls. You’d just end up with stringy sticky cotton …. strings. Totally disgusting.

It wasn’t a good day. Hell wasn’t great. I thought it would be slow. And it mostly was, which is more irritating than anything else. I like to work. I feel better when I work, and less like I’m ripping off a paycheque when I have shit to do. The past few days have been pretty steady, so the sudden stop in work is just…irritating. But then more crap showed up at the end of the day, because of course it’s month-end, and Accounting is trying to clean up. And now there are old things they want cleaned up – things from five and six years ago. It just makes my blood boil.

And then I got a call from the doctor that I needed to call them back to get some test results. Since I know they already got the bloodwork back because I’m short of Vitamin D (I got the pills yesterday. I took the first one today, so I’m all Vitamin D’ed up). So I knew it was something to do with the PAP Smear. Fuck. I was afraid for half a second that I was pregnant. And then I was afraid for more than a second that I had some STD.

Nope. I have some stupid bacterial infection that requires medication and abstinence. And it doesn’t look like the doctor called the prescription in to the pharmacy today, so I couldn’t pick it up tonight. And I won’t be able to pick it up tomorrow because I have to work. I am not happy.

I ran home at lunch to clean up my apartment and pack my stuff to walk Zoey tonight. I ran around like a beheaded chicken for fifteen minutes and rushed back to work. Then T. told me that she wasn’t going to her meeting and I didn’t need to walk the dog. And then CB told me that he wasn’t coming down. And then my mood went from bad to totally worse. I was going to go walk with T. anyway, but my mood was just horrid and really, why put someone else through that?

CB called when I got home. I had just started making dinner. I talked to him for less than five minutes – actually, he talked. I said a lot of “mmhmm”s. He asked why I was so quiet – said I sounded “different”. I said that I was disappointed that we weren’t getting together tonight. His response, “We have the weekend. It happens.” I know that I’m the one who had plans on Tuesday and I know that I’m the one who works two jobs, but damn it, tonight was my only night free and he made a decision not to come down. I even offered to go up. I know he had a bad day. He got soaked at work and it was windy and freezing cold. It was a bad day for him. But still. Doesn’t he miss me like I miss him??

Then Dad commented on my FB status. I’d written, “Dear God, I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry, so please stop crapping on my Thursday. I’m sorry, so are we good?” And Dad wrote back, “I talked to God. He said you didn’t do anything wrong, that some days are just like that.” I cried.

CraneBoy called back about an hour later. We talked for about fifteen minutes. I tried to cheer up, because he’d made the effort to call back. And he didn’t say anything about my mood. He didn’t refer to my attitude earlier. He just talked to me for fifteen minutes, and told me to message him before I went to bed. Is it even remotely possible that he gets it? That he understands he’s dating someone with more emotion than a freaking room full of prepubescent girls?

I told him that there was a bacterial thing and that we wouldn’t be able to have sex for about three weeks, because by the time the thing was done, it would be that time of the month, and… He said okay. He said it was all right. I said, “No, it’s not.” And he laughed and said no, he understood it wasn’t okay, but that there wasn’t anything either of us could do about it.

Now I have to go to bed, because tomorrow morning at 7:30, a nurse is going to knock on my door and want to take blood and vitals and urine from me, because my potential insurance company wants to make sure I’m alive and kicking and in good health. *sigh*

Saturday we’re going to St. Jacob’s, me and T. and Pretty. I’m excited. And then CB said maybe we’d stay down here, since he’s getting a paycheque, and maybe we’d go out for once. Oh, that would be nice. I’m happier that he got a paycheque for his sake than for mine.

And then someone made me very proud tonight. T., you did a great thing. You did a really great thing. I’m so proud of you for making a decision that is a step on the path to recovery.

PS – Dad’s heart attack was nine years ago yesterday.

 

Shuttin’ Detroit Down

Today was an okay day at Hell. Not particularly exciting, but acceptable. I applied for two jobs at a different company today, though. Through AM2’s husband. His company is hiring, and there are two jobs that might suit me. It sounds like the pay scale is equal to Hell’s, so we’ll see if I get a callback.

I worked at CM tonight, but it was really quiet. I think we made one sale in four hours. But we did some vacuuming, sorted some shelving, and…uh… I learned how to play WordMole on my Blackberry. lol.

I’ve folded most of my clothes from last night, but the stuff that I put on the drying rack still isn’t dry. It should be by tomorrow; I’ve got the fan blowing on it now and I’ll leave it on all night.

(Indigo’s being a fuckhead and I’m gonna pull all his feathers out tonight, I swear.)

I came home and was folding clothes in front of the TV and happened to find the State of the Union Address. I caught about half an hour or forty minutes of Obama’s seventy minute speech. I missed gems like this one -

And if there’s one thing that has unified Democrats and Republicans, it’s that we all hated the bank bailout. I hated it. You hated it. It was about as popular as a root canal.

And I missed this one – (isn’t this already happening in Canada? Mmhmm):

We should put more Americans to work building clean energy facilities, and give rebates to Americans who make their homes more energy efficient, which supports clean energy jobs.

This is one of my favourites:

…this bill will finally end the unwarranted taxpayer-subsidies that go to banks for student loans. Instead, let’s take that money and give families a $10,000 tax credit for four years of college and increase Pell Grants. And let’s tell another one million students that when they graduate, they will be required to pay only ten percent of their income on student loans, and all of their debt will be forgiven after twenty years – and forgiven after ten years if they choose a career in public service. Because in the United States of America, no one should go broke because they chose to go to college.

He’s so amazing to watch. I love just listening to his voice. He’s very good at what he does; getting his point across. I’m listening to some governor from Virginia speaking now (the Republican opposition response), and what a difference. It’s pretty damn obvious that this guy is reading his speech and enunciating where his speech writer told him to. But Obama is a natural in front of people. He’s just fantastic. I have no doubt that the man could sell ice to the Inuit.

He’s still pushing health care reform, which is great. I loved the part of his speech where he invited anyone with a better idea to come forward, because he’d love to hear it. Classic. “You don’t like my idea? Where’s yours?” lol. He’s pushing for cutting the deficit and his standard bipartisan politics schtick. But it’s like it’s such a good idea when he says it out loud. And I’m not saying it’s not. I’d buy manure from him if he asked me to. I said to T. that he’s a better speaker than Hitler. And that’s not a slam, it’s a compliment. Hitler convinced a nation to go to war and commit genocide. As T. said, it’s a good example of good versus evil.  

Pretty says I should tell CB that I love him. But every time I work up the courage, I chicken out. I am just not… She asked me, “does it make you love him less if he doesn’t say it back?” No, no, it doesn’t. But it’s just hanging out there, then, if he doesn’t say it back. And I don’t want him to feel obliged to say it back. Granted, he is an Alpha, so there’s no damn way he’s going to say anything he doesn’t want to. I guess we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

 

Step By Step

So first Pretty and I went for a walk at the beach like good girls who are trying to lose fat. We talked about sex and threesomes and baking Valentine’s Day cookies – you know, all that shit that women discuss.

Then we headed over to T.’s for Monopoly Night. T. fed us – salami and turkey and fruit, buns and Cool Whip… We played Monopoly and laughed so hard at times that I cried. It’s not even possible to re-hash the whole night (nor, for the sake of the guilty, would I want to), but highlights included:

You owe me twelve dollars for rent.
Right, but remember that two dollars I gave you like six rounds ago? So here! shoves seven dollars across the table
But you owe me twelve dollars.
I just gave you your rent!
Uh, you just gave her seven dollars, not ten.
Shut up.

Are you feeling okay?
I’m too full. rubbing tummy
It’s your food bayyyybey!

hiccup hiccup HICCUP
Do you want something for that?
No, it’ll go hiccup away.
hiccup hiccup HICCUP
hiccup hiccup HICCUP
hiccup hiccup HICCUP
Did you ever wonder what a pterodactyl would sound like if it was still alive? HICCUP

How do you spell that?
Tee aye are aye…
Uh, is that the ESL coming through?
Are you writing this down to blog about it later?

Do handjobs count as sex?
Yes.
But what if he didn’t finish? It doesn’t count then, right?
What? Yes, it counts.
But if he didn’t finish…
It counts.
…. so you’re saying I lost my virginity at fourteen?
Dude, you gave some guy a hand job when you were fourteen? Score!

So sell me Marvin Avenue and Atlantic Avenue for Park Place.
No. Make the Belly ask me.
Sell meh Mahvin Avenewwww an’ Atlantic Avenewwww for Pahk Plassssss.
Done.

So did you ever sleep with a YaYa?
A who?
A YaYa. I work with a guy…
No. I have. Never. Slept. With a Man. Named. YaYa.

We look exactly alike, except for how we’re different.
You don’t look anything alike.
The only thing similar about us is that we’re human.

And, as always, “Are you laughing? I could be hurt down here! …. Are you going to tell T.?”

Oh, and I don’t think you’re stupid. Sometimes you just come up with the weirdest shit that just might be plausible. But in this case, it it doesn’t look like it.