Sunday synopsis

Obligatory ‘SATC’ wrap-up — as always, see my life on-screen

“Sex and the City” found Carrie shoe-less after someone stole her $485 silver Manolos from a baby shower. The culprit was never found, and the hostess refused to pay her the full value (which she very well should have, and damn straight, she could afford it).

But the hostess started putting Carrie down for her extravagant lifestyle, saying, “And why should I have to pay for your lifestyle?” So Carrie tabulated how much money she’d spent on the woman’s engagement gift, wedding gift and boatload of baby gifts (which easily came to well over $2,200) and wondered why we single folk are obligated to buy gifts for everyone else’s life events when we ain’t gettin’ shit in return. Like she asked, “Why doesn’t Hallmark make a card for, ‘Hey, at least you didn’t marry the wrong guy!’ occasions?”

So she left a VM for the greedy bitch, saying that she’s getting married … to herself. And by the way, she’s registered at Manolo.

And damn sure if the gal didn’t go to Manolo to check out her registry. There was one lone item on it — the gorgeous silver shoes that had disappeared. So the gal purchased the shoes and sent a lovely congratulatory note with them to Carrie.

Oh, that one hit home. I do buy gifts because I like whatever I saw — I purchase gifts at any time of the year, when I see something that reminds me of the recipient. But I loathe being forced into purchasing something because I feel obligated. And let’s face it, O Single Friends, can you stomach another occasion for someone else, when there’s no clear time in sight when that sentiment will ever be reciprocated? Like, even at work, when someone’s selling Girl Scout cookies or wrapping paper or other stupid shit for their children … do you ever wonder who’s going to buy that shit when you have kids? Or what if you never have children?

Like Carrie’s Hallmark card statement indicates very clearly — who’s celebrating the rest of us for just not meeting Mr./Ms. Right and not continuing our fabulous line of genetics? When does the line of duty ever bend into a circle?

Shawn brought me cigarettes and brought us a fabulous apple flip cake for the festivities. He’s my new Sunday standing date. Hey, I’ll take a hot date in my life any way I can get one! 😉

In other news

Attempted to wax today. Yes, as in “why not stick wax strips to the lower half of my body and rip off some hair today?” I was appalled to read that one must not shave for three weeks for this shit to be effective. I went without battling with my razor for five days, and that was enough growth for me. So, I showered, came out and waxed un-poetic. It didn’t hurt much (hell, I used to work for Satan Herself, so nothing is THAT bad), but it left my thighs stuck together and when I bent over to try to do my calves, a certain tender part welded itself to my petrified thighs. Ouchie ouchie!

This went on for a full, oh, five minutes before I realized that the wax strips were only removing, at best, half of the hair beneath the strip. Fuck me. At any rate, let’s just say I jumped right back into the shower and shaved absolutely everything. And then some. Bleah. And now there is wax stuck between the blades of my favorite razor. Never. Again. Quote me on this! 🙂

No soup for you!

No pussy, that is.

The cat never arrived. Mikey never called. I left him a VM to try to catch me this week. I’m sure something came up, but something always comes up with everyone in my life. It’s a vicious cycle — people are calling you while you’re trying to get in touch with someone else, and so on. In today’s high-tech world, you just cannot get away from the damn phone or e-mail, and even when you’re sorry to miss a call (Leslie, I can’t believe I missed six calls from you! Gaah! Forgive me, please!), you’re wondering WTF some other people are doing while you’re trying to call them repeatedly.

And I love one of my dear (local) friends with all of my heart, but right now, I’m a little stressed because I have to call Oregon to get news on happenings down the highway. But I understand the need for this right now, and it shall pass. But it’s really easy to worry about folks when you don’t know if things are going swimmingly or hideously. And I’m just one of those people who is impatient when worrying about someone’s well-being.

I need to start getting out and meeting people more. Single people. Single fuckable people. I like being busy, and I’d like to — ahem — get busy. (*wink wink nudge nudge*) Sure beats sitting around with my thumb up my ass, trying to please the world and not myself.

Speaking of cats and other pussies

I was thinking about my old friend Alan this weekend, how easy it was for him to stop returning my calls. It’s a long, sordid story, best left offline, but after I moved, I really tried to keep up the communication (although I wasn’t good about it when we lived in the same city). But he wrote me off. *Poof* And I was hurt for a minute, but it’s more than OK now. That’s just life. You just stop having things in common with people. Then one day you wonder if the only thing you had in common with them was that you lived in the same ZIP Code. But he’s a good guy, and our friendship was very give-and-take, and I was sad to see it go. But when I realize that I can barely keep in touch with all my good buddies who live off the same wretched highway (I-395) as I, I don’t feel so bad. Fare thee well, old chum. At least, since you forgot to send me a wedding invitation, I didn’t have to buy you a gift. 😀

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