Caterwauling

Tonight, I agreed to meet up with the ex of the boy I was over the moon for, back in the day. With any luck, it will be uneventful. You know, for a change.

After I agreed, one of “his” songs came on Pandora. Funny how a song can PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE and render you useless for four minutes.

In any event, I got to looking at the event I was invited to this weekend that I turned down. I really wanted to go the last few years and never had anyone to go with. This year I have someone to go with, and I said no.

It got me to thinking about the boy I was over the moon for. He screwed it all up by pretending there was someone else. I didn’t believe it and, after I saw ol’ Whorothy on social media, I will always refuse to believe it.

But I got to thinking, after I gave a big excuse to get out of this weekend’s invite …

This is what nice people do. We give a reason. We don’t just politely decline. I mean, I DO but then they ASK AND ASK AND ASK and finally you just want to stick a cork in the conversation.

I mean, I wanted to know “why” with the original boy. Why act like you’ve got something better waiting when you don’t? And with this one, “no thanks” is fine but it always comes followed by “mind if I ask you why” and I’m not going to say what I am really thinking.

In any event, it’s such a lonely world. We all need people. But we all hold people at arm’s length. I guess the original boy didn’t want me to moon over him (although THAT ship sailed).

I feel the same way about this other one — he’s not very good about keeping his hands to himself and I am admittedly a drunken-maker-outer with very little discretion. So, why invite drama?

I even said this, that me and alcohol are not a good mix so let’s leave it at that. But it’s not enough of an answer. It never is. Just like “well there’s Whorothy” didn’t do shit to satisfy my “what in the actual fuck is wrong with you” line of questioning.

So anyway, alcohol tonight. With a female friend. Who will hopefully not mention the other boy. Because, I’ve thought of him enough today, thanks. For a lifetime, if you want to get technical. And I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone, even and especially if they felt it toward me.

Being awakened from a sound sleep to the tune of psycho neighbors fucking in the kids’ bedroom was enough to make me want to kill someone. 

Ugh. Female orgasms are supposed to be beautiful. That was gnarly. The good news for me is it lasted 30 seconds. I wish their fights were so short!

Watching Pope Francis ride in his Jeep Wrangler pope-mobile to Catholic University for his first-ever U.S. mass. 

Someone please explain to me why my heart wrenches and my eyes well with tears when I see D.C. on television. 

I guess I miss being proximate to greatness. And attending important things. Or avoiding them. Whichever. 

In any event, I’m happy the pontiff made it safely to the basilica. May we all be blessed. We could sure use it. 

A couple years ago, it was two hours to go until we launched what would become the biggest campaign in our little company’s history.

Even though we had slaved and prepared for weeks, there were still a thousand little details to be done.

And yet, I found myself on a very annoying phone call with the people being promoted.

I don’t remember the topics. All I know is they were unhappy with everything.

My superior shut that shit down with a simple, strong, “No drama on deal day.” We went on to have a successful launch, and that’s been our mantra ever since.

Today is another deal day. Murphy’s Law has been in full effect, but at least the people who will benefit most from the launch are mercifully cooperative (and grateful … and quiet).

It’s funny how some people will be difficult just because they CAN be. Sure, maybe they might have had a point. Or maybe they didn’t. Either way, thank God that project was a success because we worked our asses off for it.

In hindsight, it was just like having a baby to “save” a marriage. That shit was doomed from the start. But hell if we didn’t try everything.

Now I look at those people and their families (whom I grew to love) like exes who had so much promise, once upon a time. Now we’re all squabbling about child support and the love is gone.

One day, the drama will be gone, too. And we won’t have the need for silly rules like “shut up while we try to make magic over here, mmkay?”

I don’t even know where to begin today.

1. It’s International Peace Day. Quick, someone tell my neighbors.

2. Someone has shit-stirred. And I’m not sure whether it’s a recent stirring (i.e., to get a reaction out of me now) or whether it’s an old, crusty, pot of dried-up turds (i.e., it was done long ago and I’m only now hearing about it). Either way, in your dreams, dirtballs of the world.

2.a. I’ve done better. So much better. The best, actually. No need for me to slum it, thankyouverymuch.

3. Carly Fiorina is the devil. As if we didn’t know that when she got her ass handed to her by $HPQ. As someone said, if she wanted to run Planned Parenthood into the ground, she should have just become its CEO.

4. Scott Walker is out of the race. Speaking of race, that same someone said Scott Walker is what happens if a racist fucks a manila envelope. Sounds about right.

5. Take Ted Cruz with you. Or Eddie Munster. Or Count Chocula. (Have you ever seen them all in the same room? I think not.)

6. And Marco Rubio. Because, that kind of batshit belongs in Florida where he can only fuck up one state and not 50. This is me taking one for the team, you know.

7. Some people need to lose my number. Seriously. Please. I beg. I’d beg on my knees but they’d like me on my knees. Which, don’t make me use teeth. I will, you know.

Ever get a good date offer to go somewhere you’ve always wanted to go … but didn’t want to go with the person asking?

I am a horrible, horrible human being for saying no for that reason, I’m sure.

In an era of not being a fan of the people I’ve called friends, I’d rather go alone or not at all.

Mom made the very “truth hurts” observation that all of my friends hurt me in a row this year. 

She’s right. And I don’t have many friends. This is why. 

I’m trying to be happy for one having a special day today. But this same person crushed my soul two months ago, saying he wouldn’t help me to help my mom. I didn’t even ask and all I would have wanted was an idea. 

Then there’s the shower issue. I don’t have the heart to order the last few items right now. And I’ve been looking to this little boy as much as his mom is. 

Then there’s the whole bulkshit of the boy who can send random strangers flowers but I get a happy birthday text and nothing else, like I was nobody special. Soulmate snd best friend, huh?

I could go on but then I’d be getting into work friends too and I ain’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. 

My faith in humanity is shot. And no I’m not wishing anyone else well right now. I wish me well. Since no one else will. 

A year ago, in a city on a river, everything changed.

I have violent fights with myself about that time in my life. Was it right to go with it, to experience someone and something so foreign from everything else I knew? Or should I have gone with my original instinct to run?

In hindsight, running was probably the right answer. But as I told this person during one of our thousands of marathon conversations, there is no such thing as a “right” choice. You choose, or else things get chosen for you.

And when you do choose, there are outcomes. Again, there are no “right” outcomes — there’s just a natural follow-up to whatever you’ve allowed to enter your life. Good and bad.

It’s all well and good to think one outcome would lead to neverending joy. Or, at least more joy than another choice. I mean, the latter may be true, and that’s what you have to take into account when you’re making your choices.

I try to remind myself that my choices made me grow. Made me smarter. Made me tougher. Or, in this case, made me softer and more open to different outcomes I never knew were possible.

That helps to temper the “what in the actual hell was I doing” moments. Which are more frequent than I’d care to admit, even now with so much distance in the rearview.

In any event, I heard this on Pandora today and it took me back to a connection that I would never have made if work hadn’t unshackled me and let me go get connected with fresh faces elsewhere in the country …

“Breakin’ down and coming undone
It’s a roller coaster kinda rush
And I never knew I could feel that much
And that’s the way I loved you.”

— Taylor Swift, “The Way I Loved You”

I miss being tough and skeptical and doubtful and disinterested and distanced, not just from him but from everyone. But it was interesting to see what I was capable of, in my dark little heart. I just wonder whether I’ll ever even want to try to do it again.

That moment when you have two laptops, a weekend’s worth of work ahead of you, a mandatory Sunday night/Monday morning project every week anyway … and a total inability to access your work computer.

I’m doing what I can with what I have (i.e., phone and a really good colleague). Tomorrow, go to office to work. Sunday, work at home. And drink all the damn while.

No shocker that Thundercunt exploded around midnight and kept us up half the night. 

I think Thundercunt  works evenings somewhere because there’s usually a gap between crazy day noise and crazy midnight noise. I swear I’ve seen her at the Publix on Gateway. She rocks that green smock, if it’s her. I want to choke her with it. 

Big Giant Pussy gets a rude awakening every night. Last night as I was dropping off to sleep, I heard, “You are not a man. You are a fucking loser!”

I yelled through the vent, “You suck more, sweetheart.”

I invited mom to hang in my room since sleep wasn’t going to happen. As usual, we laughed our asses off and made it better. 

I think someone called security. Not like any of those kids can control those two. But eventually they shut the fuck up. Hooray. 

I don’t know if Fraggle made it to school on time. But I know she learned a whole bunch more variations on F-bombs. Her poor teacher. 

I thought about the nice homeless guy who sleeps on the brand-new cowhide benches outside of Rocco’s Tacos. And this helped me to not flip the fuck out because I do have a nice home filled with lots of joy. 

I’m going to be the bigger person and pray that Big Giant Pussy reclaims his balls from her purse and leaves her. It’s toxic for the world for these two idiots to be together. 

In the meantime, I’m avoiding that Publix unless they let me throw a brick at her face.