Caterwauling

After you give up your would-be affair frog-prince to stay with the belching, farting, sneezing, honking, Lysol-cloud riding, micromanaging funky ass, you can’t really tell him to shove a fly up his froggy butt because you just lit your backup lily pad on fire.

I predicted this. And again, I’m not sure it’s worse than moving into the affair frog/prince’s pad. But it was nice to dream of kicking frogpies across the pond even though you knew you couldn’t base your decision on the joy you would derive from it.

Probably a terrible headline and not very creative.

But after I saw an “expert” take one of my favorite writer’s brilliant headlines two weeks ago and make it sound like fuckin’ “See Spot Run” … and I no longer have override capability because it’s only my monkeys but not my circus … and don’t get me started on the content itself … I’m pretty much dead inside.

In any event, I picked my frog prince. My decision surprised even me.

Maybe “decision” is too definitive here.

At least, I either made it a whole lot easier … or a whole lot harder … to decide, should the decision come around again. Still not sure which.

I don’t know that it will come around again. Nor am I sure I want it to. And don’t think I didn’t immediately regret the decision the second I shared it with my frog prince.

The other started ribbiting instantly. (Literally, three minutes later.) And I’m like damn it, frogpies. Pipe the fuck down before I squash your poisonous ass. Jesus.

In any event, I’ve either opened the door to something bigger or I’ve burned the bridge forever.

And for the fact that I honestly cannot tell is probably confirmation that I did the right thing.

… in the context of taking a screenshot …

… in the subcontext of micromanagement because they don’t believe that people who used to run newsrooms, departments or companies could possibly see a stupid task through to completion …

… One more fucking time …

I’m gonna show folks the real context of that word. 

CIRCUMCISION. 

Well. Two frogs. Let’s be clear about that from the outset. 

I’ve been driving myself batshit for a week. Listing two sets of pros and cons. The list is absolutely equal. 

Nothing stands out that’s great. The rest is shit soufflé vs. shit on a croissant.  I wonder if the coin-flip result will simply come from my need to cut carbs. 

I deserve to be blessed with choices. That’s the upshot. Unfortunately, someone’s gonna get hurt. And I am 100% aware that that person is me. 

If I pick prince #1, do I murder him on sight in a week? Or if I pick prince #2, the lesser-known evil but stlll evil and maybe even more so, would I die a thousand deaths because my first pick won’t take me back?

I know life is all about choices. I just don’t see giving up a good thing unless it’s for a great thing. But nothing lasts forever. Least of all happiness. 

Send prince-picking vibes today, if you’re so inclined. I want a good date this weekend. 

There’s someone here who has had it out for me from day one. 

Or maybe not. I don’t really know. Maybe they just didn’t like me or care that I’m alive. 

Either way, really. Doesn’t matter to me. 

But …

Instead of things I do or don’t say getting back to this person, the opposite happened. 

This person told a whole bunch of people that “(Goddess) could run that (massive entanglement of ongoing insanity) blindfolded.”

Duuuuude. 

I know I’ll never hear it directly from this person. But that’s OK. Just knowing they think it is reward enough. 

On traffic …

Got a text yesterday from someone I’ve been a bit mad at. And I realized I’m not mad anymore. Life has gone on. Funny how that happens sometimes. Never gonna be BFFs again but that’s ok. Saying hi every couple millennia is just fine by me.  Happy to say I can. 

I never have the right words at the exact moment I need them. 

A guy ran his dog into the ducks I was feeding. I flipped out and he was so defensive, he made it seem like my fault. 

My fear at him siccing that foul beast on me or mom kept me from really reading him off. But boy do I have a thousand snappy comebacks … now. 

Same for getting a message kicked off with “poor me.” Followed with a lie. And punctuated by an accusation. 

My instant mental reply was “read that back and you’ll have all the answers you need.” My actual reply, to move on with my day. 

Among many responses in my brain is that I ruined a good thing to choose that instead. I’d give anything to go back to that concert that I ended up spending focused on my phone. Ignoring the good thing I had right there with me, for what I didn’t ask for. And how the latter monopolized my time and how I allowed it to. 

How if I could do it all over again … I just wouldn’t. 

9/15/17 Update: I got a do-over on that concert!

My AC unit punked out.

The AC in the car punked out a year ago.

And the ice maker’s been dead for at least two years.

So, it’s been a laugh a minute around here.

I just paid a guy $100 to basically wipe up four drops of water and restart my thermostat.

He needs a second guy with him because my actual unit is up on the roof. With the units of 299 other apartments. So good luck figuring out if he can find, and fix, this one. But that’s an adventure for another day.

I didn’t bother my landlord because the last time I did, there was a riot. And I got a new lease with about a $100/month bump up in the rent.

He lost his mind that I paid for a repair over $100 that his dim-witted, holy-rolling brother-in-law or whatever could have done for $99. (In Florida, tenants have to pay for repairs up to $100.) Honestly I wasn’t going to tell him about this, no matter what the cost. And even though there may be more, I’ll eat it.

The ice maker, for what it’s worth, will be a $300 repair. I hope he doesn’t take it out of my security deposit. But then he’d also have to take the fact that none of the blinds work … that the electricity doesn’t work in mom’s room at all … the 10 years’ worth of crap in the carpets … the drain that doesn’t drain … the DOA dishwasher … the bleach the whore before me spilled under the sink … and those ceiling marks I made with baseball bats and other various sharp objects to make the Thundercunts shut up.

Yeah I bet that’ll eat up the $3,000 he’s sitting on of mine.

In any event, I need to get out of this place before I actually sweat off a pound or something.

I don’t dream much. Mostly because I don’t SLEEP much. But I did get a cat nap in around 4 a.m. and boy was it great.

Dreamed that the original three Mouseketeers were reunited at work. S&P (not to be confused with Standard & Poor’s) and I got the band back together for a big project.

Nicholas and Angel and Andrew and Marci and Sean and Jesse were all in an office with us, buzzing about. I think even Matt showed up late and went out for a cigarette and was never seen again. But Shern came in from paradise. Even “Linus” flew in from the Left Coast because this was so monumental.

Don’t know that it has any special meaning.

Things were never perfect, and certainly nothing to be mourned for too long a time.

It was just nice to remember some really cool people who made me smile at one time or another.