Why Dating R Is Way Better Than Dating A Guy Who Stays Awake For Whole Half Hours At A Time While Leaving The TV On Nip/Tuck WHERE I LEFT IT:
1) When, after three days of hedonistically driving the Corvette to work via the excuse "the Nissan is out of gas" even though I've now filled my slung-back, eight-cylinder lover up with two tanks of premium juice (one just because cars need gas; the other because you can't expect to beat
every single vehicle by a steamy eighty miles an hour at the light and not cost yourself some cash), R actually COVERS the Corvette (trapping my burned Cindy Lauper CD and $8.00 rhinestone "this totally isn't my car" sunglasses within) and hands me my keys and twenty bucks, I understand that if I try to counter or whine or bitch, he's just going to recant the twenty. And then the keys. And those keys are really hard for me to find when someone isn't handing them to me.
2) When I get back from the gas station-- let's call it 10 minutes-- R will be passed out on the couch with his mouth open, the TV is blaring something in SPANISH and a cockroach of SCI FI proportions will be casually grooming itself on the living room ceiling. The shadow it casts will prevent me from noticing at first that the dog is now inexplicably eating a piece of French bread and is lying in a puddle of pistachio shells.
3) The cockroach will immediately trigger the hysterical 1950's housewife within (much as the Corvette pulls forth my inner "Mafioso Teamster") and I will be forced to SCREAM AS THOUGH I AM BEING STABBED IN THE JUGULAR WITH AN ICE PICK OVER AND OVER AND OVER (ONLY LOUDER, BECAUSE BEING
ACTUALLY STABBED IN THE
ACTUAL JUGULAR PROBABLY DOESN'T
PROMOTE VOLUME). R will leap to my defense from this apparent narcoleptic slumber, jump onto an upholstered chair wielding a flip-flop, and then promptly tip over onto his face.
4) The roach scurries. I threaten to set the walls on fire. FIND. THE. ROACH. R is bleary-eyed and wobbly. His face throbs. And there are inexplicable mariachis on television. That he's missing now.
5) The Jake finds the roach. Like I knew he would. Since this roach is the size of a cat or a chicken, Jake finds it on the
other upholstered chair and wags his tail. He licks it. I begin my convulsive freak show, careful to keep my mouth covered so the roach in question doesn't FLY INTO MY MOUTH LIKE IN THAT COMIC BOOK I SAW IN PIGGLY WIGGLY WHEN I WAS NINE.
6) R can't find the roach. I can't imagine why; I'm wailing like a siren and screaming instructions with my hand clamped over my mouth. I'm also jumping up and down on the kitchen table.
7) The roach licks The Jake. His tongue is gigantic. I can't handle it.
8) R still can't find the roach. He is befuddled. He looks at me, eyes like dialysis, and goes, "Did you get gas in your car? Are you on top of the table?" My strangled, Farsi response complete with Whirling Dervish Arm And Leg Spasms merely exacerbates said befuddledness.
9) The Jake and The Roach decide to be penpals. The Jake trades a cow ear for a stringy thing The Roach has in his pocket.
10) It finally ends. I am victorious. I come down off the table and try to act like I'm not a freakish, out of control nutcase. I put the matches away. R falls asleep again almost immediately, but first makes some "Okay, NORMAL AND NOT AT ALL ON THE TABLE" comments. The mariachis continue their sonata. The Jake sniffs. He tries to hide the stringy thing, but I see it and take it anyway. Gross.
I'm A Lame Ass. (A List.)or
(That's "a LIST", like, "Hey, look a LIST." Not "A" list. I'm not "A" list. I'm like "M List." Mothafucka.)First of all, I'd like to state for the record how much I love you and love Blogger and love blogging. I also love overtime. Can
you give me overtime? Oooh. What if you could?
1) So I got all "ten-years-old on the first day of school" at Target Sunday and I bought about five million glittery pens and pencils for work. Because I'm a third grader. Clearly. The good news is that I found a wood paneled pencil sharpener in the supply closet. Now I'm embarrassingly immature but retro chic at the same time. Too bad I don't have a spare outlet to plug it in. Do you think I should stop shoving pencils in there and making a grinding noise? Nah. Me either.
2) I paid $400.65 for a doggie door that The Jake won't use. Well, to be fair he'll use it if I hold it open. Which is
something, I guess. Because that's what I had in mind when I wrote the check; a contraption that would cost fat cash, destroy my door, and not dissuade my dog from crapping in the dining room. Awesome.
3) There's this amazingly hot guy that sits over the wall and a few cubes down. He's so unbelievably good-looking that whenever I catch a glimpse of his JFK Jr. profile I mechanically take my hair down and reach shakily for the lipliner. Pavlov. True dat shit.
4) With R out of town for the week I wanted to do this whole great nostalgic post about how much I miss my perfect little apartment and how great it is to live alone... then I ate three cheese ravioli and pesto for five meals in a row and watched The Goonies on repeat for three days. Oh yeah. I REMEMBER NOW.
SUCK.
5) So I worked late tonight (see above point). I'm pleased to announce that within four minutes of "official after work" time, the conversation turned pointedly to sex, swearing and boobs. I can't EVEN IMAGINE a more perfect fucking job.
Okay. I've got to go. The Jake is whining at the doggie door.
I've got to take a little break from this for a while. Clearly. It's after 7 and I just got home. I left the house at 6 this morning. I'm totally and completely beat.
I'm not taking anything away from the site, though; in a few weeks I'll have my proverbial shit together and I'll be posting more regularly, I promise. And in the meantime I'm sure I'll still post occassionally, but I hate feeling like I'm neglecting this, and I feel that way right now. The worst part is how much I miss it. So I'll still be circulating around to all of your stuff. Of course. And check back here periodically because I'm not really "leaving" so much as I'm "slowing down". Very temporarily. I miss you already.
