Archive for May, 2004

Tim I know your not a very godly person but please pray that he loves me and will call me please

I couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. I made a promise (which is not something I do lightly, or often) and don’t back out on promises, but a hardcore agnostic saying a prayer…how does that even work? “Dear God, I don’t know if you exist or not, but just in case…” That has got to go over well. (If I was a deity and heard something like that, I’d probably answer it with a bolt of lightning or at least a jinxed credit history, but that’s just vengeful old me.)

A small part of me was glad that “whatever would happen” was happening, and the inflection point from which things could only get better would be soon in coming, but a much larger part wasn’t, at all. So I prayed. I prayed that she wouldn’t do anything foolish or harmful, I prayed that her pain e-t would dissipate quickly, I prayed she’d give up pining for him, cheating ass, I prayed she would find a nice, honest guy to love.

QOTD: “This is incredible, people lived, had homes, country houses, garages, motorcyles, cars, money, friends and relatives, people had their life, each in own niche and then in a matter of hours this world fall in pieces and everything goes to dogs and after few hours trip with some army vehicle one stands under some shower, washing away radiation and then step in a new life, naked with no home, no friends, no money, no past and with very doubtful future.”

Lots of booze I don’t particularly like. A shocker, I know :-)

I thought, “Yeah, I’ve been through college, there ain’t a booze on this earth I’ll have trouble slurping down.” Today, we had this Scotch tasting after work (come on folks, you can stop sending me resumes already) and I concluded that Scotch really isn’t my bag. To my jaded tongue (probably spoiled by years of excessive Mountain Dew consumption), the authentic Scotch whiskies ranged from drinkable, to tolerable, to make-a-face-afterward, to paint thinner. I actually like some of the cheap blended stuff better than the real thing.

(Doesn’t mean I won’t drink it, of course…)

QOTD: “What does that even mean?” “Quiet, brain.”


Almost same day, almost same topic…okay, exact same topic. Talked to the aforementioned deadbeat today, had a nice long chat about the whole situation, and he gives me his assurance that he’s not trying to be a stringing-girls-along cunt, and there’s a lot of “ain’t-easy” to the situation that I haven’t been seeing. And you know what, I’m at least partially convinced. Maybe he isn’t quite the asshole I make him out to be. Maybe.

QOTD: “I’m sorry, but whenever you say ‘potential well’, I think about a well that hasn’t been dug yet.”

Off Grid

Yes folks, I am now at the point of faking connection problems as the ‘most graceful’ exit strategy for uncomfortable questions. Why the hell am I protecting that deadbeat? I’m not. My main concern is The Fiancee (tF), whose stability is in considerable question. Of secondary concern is The Girlfriend (tG), who I still (somewhat in defiance of logic) give a shit about, although admittedly, the amount of a shit that I give is somewhat less than unity.

Now, who would unperson me for hinting them off about each other? Well, I can think of at least 3 people: The Deadbeat, for derailing his ho train; tF and tG, respectively, for knowing about this shit for the past 4+ months and keeping it a secret. Who else? A lot of interested 3rd-parties, no doubt, for substantially the same reasons just outlined. As previously mentioned, there are some justifiable concerns about tF’s stability…while I can’t predict with any certainty what would happen, some of the possibilities are things that I just absolutely, positively do not want to find myself responsible for…

So yeah, I will be feigning off-grid-ness as necessary, and hoping that whatever will happen will just happen already.

QOTD: “Grimace at life, the tobacco companies thank you.”


Ya, had my folks pop up to Boston for the weekend, which was pretty cool. They missed me so much they bought me furniture! (Okay, it was probably the fact that I hadn’t bothered to buy a bed yet, and was crashing out on a mattress I got from a guy at work.) And generally spoiled my ass rotten all weekend. We went all through the historic sites of Boston, walked the Freedom Trail and even introduced the folks to the joys of public transportation (icky, icky, icky…) Good stuff, all in all. Even saw the puts-himself-through-a-tennis-racquet dude performing, and picked out my tombstone.

Scream out that your washcloth is attacking you, then fall to the floor and cover your face with it. Lie there for 2 hours. Three days later, have a little washcloth pop out of your stomach and terrorise the school.