Sunday, February 17, 2008

I will be the one...

"You're dude department sounds about as busy as the returns counter at wal mart."

Well, no. Now exactly. The fella that said that hasn't actually seen or talked to me in quite a while, so all he knows is what he reads in this blog. I told him that everything in blogland is just a condensed version of real life, so it isn't really all that bad. Then he made a lame attempt at a dirty joke about condensing something else. Moving on.

The fact of the matter is that while my life in dudes hasn't been all that enthralling, my time, energy and mind have all been pretty much consumed with matters of the heart and, more frequently, the libido.

The faces change, but there is inevetibly something wrong, dirty and rotten and wrong, with the core of every dude that's come around in the last five months.

Not the least of whom was that one guy I had been seeing (I forget the code name I used for him here). Yeah, he attacked me. Choking and hitting for a minute of two from his end and one swift stabbing from mine. The fork I lodged right under his bottom rib, $2, the look on his face, priceless. I found out later through a mutual friend that he'd been tripping on "acid or shrooms or something. Man, I don't know. That's so fucked up."

Then of course there is XBF himself. I finally put his mind games to rest just this afternoon. A girl can only take so much of that stuff. I'm sensitive, damnit, and I'd like to stay that way.

Hmmm, my first, last, and only one-night-stand. That was ineteresting.

My roomates boyfriends twin brother. All I can say about him is that, as a very recently devirginized young man, he should be a whole lot more grateful than he is!

And maybe one or two more drifters that wandered into my bubble but then were sent immediately packing or ran off with their tails between their legs.

But alas! I come to my latest diversion from work, school and play. We'll call this guy Joe. I went to my junior (his senior) prom with Joe. He was soo so so so nice and way cool and hilarious. And I, in turn, was a total bitch to him. I was young and stupid, I have no excuse. It didn't take me long to realise the error of my ways, but by the taime I'd figured it out, he'd graduated. So, for the last 4 years, I'd been wishing I could see him so I could apologize.

But the shamed have to wait. S and I concluded that I may never see him again. So hope was basically lost.

Then, we got hit with that terrible blizzard on the day before Christmas Eve. My apartment complex was, coincidently one of like 2 communities that didnt lose power. So S's parents stayed with us to escape the cold. They left the next morning before I woke up, leaving $20 as a thank-you. S and I were excited about eating a real piece of meat for the first time in a month. So we went to one of the best places in town to get a steak. But they were closed, no electricty you see. So we went down our mental list of places we could go. As it turned out, the last joint on the list was the only restaurant in town (or any surrounding towns) that had power. So we ate there.

We waited to be seated. We sat. We smoked. We placed our order. We gobbled down the chips and salsa. I had to pee. I came back from the resteroom and related to S how the sign about the sink read: EMPLOYEES MUST "WASH HANDS." We chuckled. I glanced to the right toward the register (we had been seated near the bar, where the only cash register was see). "Is is!" S turned to look. It was Joe! "Joe!! Come here!" Joe and his best friend Zak were at the register buying gift certificates.

They came over. Joe has gotten even cuter. We small-talked. They left. S and I looked at each other and blurted out the same thing at the same time, "Why in the hell didn't I/you give him my/your number!?!"

Ahh, but the moment had passed. They were gone.

That night we remembered that he'd said he sells appliances at the mall. So S and I decided that she would go in next weekend and ask if he had a girlfriend. I got goosebumps just thinking of it. But this morning at school, after another night of assholery from XBF, I decided that I was, in fact, not in the third grade. I had to ask him out for myself. Further more, I had to do it right away. So I left, went home, took a shower, got prettyfied and went to the mall.

I saw him right away but he was talking to someone so I decided to wait. Walking through the washing machine aisle, a man with BOB on his nametag came over and asked if I needed help.

"Yes, actually, is Joe here?"

"Yeah, he is, is that all you needed to know?"

"Yep, thanks!"

"Hey Joe, this young lady wants to see you!" He was yelling across like 80 feet.

Joe walked up, "Hey Amanadoo! What's up?"

"I, ummmm, I need your help."

"With what?"

"Well, I, er, um, S and I need a washer and dryer."

"I can't help you. I sell everything but washers and dryers. But Bob can help....Hey Bob! She needs a washer."

Bob smiled and started toward us. Whispering to Joe, "Do you sell refridgerators?" He does. "Well I need a refridgerator. Let's look at those."

He waved off Bob and called me a dork. We small-talked agin about the apartment and his karate class. I whipped around to face him (I think I scared him a little), "I want to take you out to dinner." It's a little blurry after that because all my blood went straight to my face and I got lightheaded. The important part here is that he accepted and we exchanged numbers and he said he'd call me. The I told him a secret...that S's boyfriend had bought us a washer and dryer before we even moved. He called me a dork again. I wanted to hug him, but I said bye-bye instead, walked swiftly to the parking lot where I did a little dance.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

I don't think this is what Ray Charles was singin about


Let me tell you about Georgia.

At my school she's infamous. She's beyond infamous. She's a legend.

No one will do her...which is why all the juniors get her. They don't know any better. Georgia is a nasty old lady. And the nasty goes far deeper than the old lady crud behind her ears. She's mean. And racist. Once, a black student was doing her hair and Georgia looked her staright in the face and said, "We owned 2 of you back in West Virginia." Didn't even bat a fucking eye. She constantly berates everyone she comes into contact with, including teachers, students and her husband, whom she refers to as "the man." As in, "Mrs. [teachers name], why in the hell can't you do your job and get these young women off their fat behinds and have one of them do my hair? The man is waiting for me in the car and I don't have time to wait for all these obese girls to jump off the ugly train." Snapping is involved. And yes, that is a direct quote.

Well, wednesday, all the juniors were busy or on lunch, so Christina was forced to take Georgias ticket. All was going well with the roller set until I showed up. I sat in the chair next to Christina. I crossed my legs. And my foot instantly began shaking, a tick I inherited from Dick Lucas.

Georgia looked over at me with hell fire in her eyes. "You're a lucky young lady that you didn't have my mother."

Without prompting, she continued, "She'd have killed you for sure."

Startled, I asked why.

"You ought to stop shaking your leg like that, it's an ugly habit and my dear mother'd have killed you for it."

"Well, I guess I am lucky I didn't have your mother. She sounds horrible!" Now, dear readers, I'm willing to admit that perhaps that statement goaded her on a bit.

A few minutes passed. Christina swiveled Georgias chair around so that my offensive foot wasn't in her direct line of vision. Alas, the old bag turned herself back around.

Shooting me the evil eye again, she insisted I stop shaking my foot, "You stop that right now or I'm going to bop you in the face."

Again, maybe I had something to do with what came next after I responded, "Do it!"

She reached over and punched me in the shin. Those old lady knuckles hurt like a mother fucker! I said "that was completely unneccesary," and started to get up.

Right at the moment, Christina was walking back from getting hairspray and didn't know what had just happened. Georgia yanked the hairbrush out of Christinas hand, got about 2 inches from my face, shouted "thank you very much!" and slammed the brush down on the station. Rollers and pins went everywhere. She stormed off.

A teacher saw the whole thing and she was ab-so-lut-ely livid. She called the director of our school and told her that Georgia was not, under any circumstances allowed back in the school again.

So there's that. Crazy old lady.