| 7:02 p.m. | Self centered flagellation | 2003-10-15 |
| Reaped | The gas-man is here tonight. Like every Wednesday night. Comes in, grabs the Chronicle, sits in the chairs behind the reference desk and proceeds to burp, fart and otherwise gastrate his little heart out for the legnth of my shift. That's why I call him gas man. I watch him arrive on my evening cigarette break sometimes. He drives a red extended cab explorer. It used to disgust me, but now it's more like one of those things, that if it didn't happen, would create a certain absence in the reference area. Oop! There's another one. Sounded a little juicy that time. Musta been raised in a barn. I think most houses around here were at one time barns anyway. Does that give him an excuse? Us librarians, we're so full of taste around here. In other news #2 showed up on a bike today while I outside smoking. I gave him the 'tude. He's all, "Call me later if you wanna." Hmph. But I know I will given my propensity for stupid gut reactions lately. Embrace the drama. Embrace it. It's all you got. Seriously. I was pissed yesterday, today not so much. Last night Crab took me to the Avenue Bar. It really is just a friggin' average bar. Good jukebox (old Cure & the man in black?!), dark, frequented by lower garden district miscreants, no drama or boob jobs or uptown Aryan types here. I proceeded to get pretty drunk on the ex's dollar, then told him there was no way he was getting play from me. And he didn't. Probably b/c I was pretty wasted & angry by the end of the night anyway. You want to talk about surreal, uncomfortable situations? Imagine fighting w/ the one boy on the phone, the ex overhearing it & wanting the scoop, and you in the middle just wanting all the males on the planet to shrivel and die (excluding, of course, the cap'n & mr. xxx, dear saints them both, but i digress). You just can't talk to an ex-boyfriend about current boys, especially when the ex is a fairly fresh one. So I just gave up, shut up, got st0ned and went to bed. I met a polyamorous couple this weekend. The wife wants my number b/c she has some 'medically related research' she thinks i can help with. S says it's really because she thinks I'm cute & friendly. Hot damn & bring it on! Can you feel the pheromes dripping off me? She's got nice tits, that's all I gotta say. In conclusion, there's going to be a lot of self centered 'I-ing' and whining and self-flaggelation going on in this journal for awhile. Cos i'm a self centered little slut these days. To paraphrase my realtor bitching about the pool: This stands as your only warning. |
Sown |
| Fresh Cut
New digs - 2004-05-25 Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10 Grumble - 2004-05-07 Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05 Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05 Random Shearings Rings |
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