I have one of those secret wishes that I never want to say aloud because it makes me sound like a selfish person. I can say it here because everyone already knows that I'm a selfish person and you still kinda sorta like me so that makes it okay. :)
I've been belly dancing for three years now. I love it. It's one of the few things that I know I'm good at. We do this improvisational show once a month at a coffee shop here to live drumming. We don't know what beats we're going to get or what themes are going to get tossed at us during the second set.
My selfish wish is for my friends to actually support me for once and show up. I invite them and they say they're going to show and then they never do. These aren't my "casual acquaintance" friends I'm talking about, but my good friends. I show up at all their things. I come to all their parties, and their kid's parties, I show up at the things that matter and are important to them, but they never come to mine. Some make the excuse that they have kids. Well, there were about 10 in the audience last night. Others say that have people in town. Hello? Bring them. It's fun, it's different, and they'll be able to brag that they went to an awesome show. Some people complain about being busy or being tired or not having enough time. Who on God's green earth has more stuff going on and is busier than me? I work full time AND go to school full time and I still manage to get to their events, so that excuse won't wash, either.
Everyone else has people show up at every single show and it makes me sad. My gay boyfriend Paul has shown up once and I love him for that, and my psycho ex boyfriend used to, but I think it was more because he knew that dancing makes me horny and he wanted to get guaranteed booty. On the one hand, it makes me feel like a bad person because I feel that pinch of jealousy that everyone else is able to field someone and I'm there alone. On the other hand, it makes me feel like I'm a bad person with bad friends because I do good things for them and they can't do this one thing for me.
I feel like a whiny brat because it seems like I'm begging for adulation, but I don't need that. I just want my friends to show an interest in the thing that I love above all others. I want them to be a good friend, even if it's only one time, and show up for me, like I've done for them hundreds of times.
State of the Union: Sad
Listening to: Helena by My Chemical Romance
Rodeo is one of the most fun places to go when you are trashed. Yes, the men are on the short side. Yes, they will hit on you even if their wife is standing next to them (Most of the time, the wifey doesn't understand English, so cheating dog husband feels free to say whatever he wants). Yes, it is a little on the seedy side, but that's why I love it.
Why do I love Rodeo? Because I like to dance to sonideros. I love Rodeo because I can go in there with no money and come out drunk as a skunk because Mexican men get offended if you won't let them buy you a drink (The same men get offended if you offer to buy them a drink because a real man doesn't take money from a woman). I love Rodeo because people wear the most MESSED up fashions, so you always have someone to make fun of, and there is always some drama going on for you to ooh and aah over.
Main reason why I love Rodeo? My friends are insanely fun. Or crazy. It's open to interpretation.
In my defense, I was really, really wasted and thought I was holding the camera upright.
State of the union: Happy
Listening to: Down - Rakim y Ken-Y
A modern day cowboy has spent many days crossing the Texas plains without water. His horse has already died of thirst. He's crawling through the sand, certain that he has breathed his last breath, when all of a sudden he sees an object sticking out of the sand several yards ahead of him.....
He crawls to the object, pulls it out of the sand, and discovers what looks to be an old briefcase. He opens it and out pops a genie. But this is no ordinary genie. She is wearing a FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) ID badge and a dull gray dress.There's a calculator in her pocketbook. She has a pencil tucked behind one ear.
'Well, cowboy,' says the genie.. 'You know how I work....You have three wishes.'
'I'm not falling for this,' said the cowboy... 'I'm not going trust a FEMA genie...'
'What do you have to lose? You've got no transportation, and it looks like you're a goner anyway!'
The cowboy thinks about this for a minute, and decides that the genie is right.
'OK!, I wish I were in a lush oasis with plenty of food and drink.'
***POOF***
The cowboy finds himself in the most beautiful oasis he has ever seen, and he is surrounded with jugs of wine and platters of delicacies.
'OK, cowpoke, what's your second wish?'
'My second wish is that I was rich beyond my wildest dreams.'
***POOF***
The cowboy finds himself surrounded by treasure chests filled with rare gold coins and precious gems.
'OK, cowpuncher, you have just one more wish. Better make it a good one!'
After thinking for a few minutes, the cowboy says...... 'I wish that no matter where I go, beautiful women will want and need me..'
***POOF***
He was turned into a tampon..
The moral of the story: If the government offers to help you,there's going to be a string attached.
State of the Union: Actually thinking about the moral. How sad.
Listening to: Naked Eyes by the Stephen Clay Experience (Slade, you know where that comes from, right?)
I was a grade A lush this weekend. I don't know how my liver is still functioning. There's nothing like being up until three in the morning, drunk off your ass on champagne, messing with guy's emotions on Craig's List. My head hurt so bad the next day, but it was worth it. Anywho, I probably shouldn't put this up, but I *have* to. On Friday, my friend and I were trying to outdo each other with gross pics from casual encounters: I'm talking small penises, women with junk everywhere (not just their trunk), etc. She'd send me gross ones from her city and I'd send her some from mine. Anyway, this dude posted this:
I had a good time laughing at him. Fueled by the champagne, I sent him a nice lovely email that said, "With your little ass in the air, all in the prone position, it makes me want to sing: You're so gay. You probably think this song is about you. You're so gay...." Now, it seems really silly, but it was hilarious at the time, especially since A) I was drunk and *everything* was funny, B) my friend and I were singing along at the time and c) he wrote me back with," Whatever, Carly Simon."
So, my friend was scouring in Men for Women because hey, eHarmony charges and CL is free. She found this dude that seemed okay, except he has the Bionic Forehead. He has the Incredible Hulk of Foreheads. It got bigger in each picture he sent. She was worried about how long his response time was taking and I said it was because he was answering other responders and she said that he told her no one else replied, so I, in my infinite deviousness, had her send me the link so I could reply to him. I wrote to him and this is what ensued:
Hey. I saw your CL ad. Before I get all excited, are you real?
Yes I am for real! Ok here are my pics...
****Didn't I tell you? His forehead looks like something out of Alien Nation****
Has anyone else responded to your ad?
Yeah a couple people.
*****He just told my friend a BLATANT LIE. Here comes Evil Me.........******
I am in Austin, but I'm moving to L.A. next week. Here's the link to my ad. Tell me if you like what you see.
***You already know where that link goes to....*******
Ummm sorry...was looking for a woman...
**That's right. I made your lying ass look at man ass. hahahahaha*****
I will be a woman after my trip to Thailand next month. Can we hook up when I get back?
****Yes, all you Real World watchers know I was letting Katelynn be my guide right about now.*******
no thanks...good luck with that though.
So, because I was only two bottles of champagne to the wind, I decided to start texting my ex, you know, Naughty Nanny Boy. Yeah...him. hehehe. I asked him if he'd found true love or if he was still searching. Keep in mind, he has an ad up on Craig's List right now looking for an Escort. Think I'm playing? http://austin.craigslist.org/m4w/101...76974.html I'm an English major, Buddy. Analyzing writing styles is my bread and butter.
He said he was still looking and then the cat and mouse game proceeded. I knew he deleted my number. I keep *everyone's* number. That way, on the off chance they don't delete yours and they try to call you, you'll already know who it is and know not to answer. I told him that we had dated and we'd had an altercation and we don't speak anymore (all true, right?). We went back and forth and he kept trying to figure out how he knew me. He couldn't pin down who I was (that's what happens when you f--- over multiple women) so he asked why we fought and I told him that he was a little upset with me when he found out I had been born a man.
Time out. Men: If someone told you this, would you keep texting about this or would you squash it and not reply? Me, too, but not this assclown. He kept mixing it up with me trying to get me to tell him who I was. He kept trying to say I had the wrong person, but I called him out by his real name, remarked on him having red hair, and the coup de grâce, asked him did he still try to pass off positions he learned in yoga class as sexual positions he invented. I am in hysterics by this point, because no matter what craziness I put out there, he kept fricking responding! He even tried to call me! Who honestly would call? Who?!?!?!?
I wouldn't answer, so then he tried to call private like I was stupid enough to answer. So then, he texted me back and put, "Why didn't you answer? Are you scared?" I told him, "Can't answer because I'm giving a hand job right now." ANY sane person would have just stopped at that point, if not earlier. Not this assclown. He tells me to call him when I'm done. WTH?!?!? Common sense should have told him I was lying because how am I too busy giving a handjob to answer, but I can still manage to text? Come on, now. By this point, my friend and I are in tears laughing and I had snorted champagne through my nose like twice.
Now this fool keeps calling me private, hoping I'll answer the phone so he can figure out who I am. It's been three days, Buddy, give it up. This is my punishment, but it cheered up my friend immensely and it kept us from feeling bad for staying home on a Friday night, so I'll keep sending his annoying calls straight to voicemail.
Marlena would say that this is what I get for dating a redhead in the first place....
State of the Union: Still hungover
Listening to: America's Suitehearts by Fall Out Boy
I got my heart broken today. My friend's son passed away and his funeral was today. He was ten years old and a gaming guru. There was no game he couldn't manage to crack. If they made that gaming movie that came out in the 80's, (what's it? The Wizard, I think) he would have been the lead actor.
He was smart, funny, filled with life and energy and it's just a shame that he had to die. I hate it when kids pass. It's tragic and it makes all the bullshit that you're caught up in seem so pointless and trivial.
Rest in Peace, Ray, and look out for us because I know you're in Heaven.
There is an epidemic that is sweeping across my friendships. This plague is infecting people left and right and needs to be stamped out before it spreads further and infects the masses. What is it called? Bitchassness. P. Diffy termed this coin on Making the Band Season 4. According to the Urban Dictionary, symptoms include:
1.Punkish tendencies (i.e. acting like a p***y)
2.Cattiness, such as talking behind someone's back
3.Thinking highly of yourself, but only expressing it under your breath
4.Claiming "hurt feelings" when you are called out on your bullshit.
The following is an informative clip from NecoleBitchie.com made by people in the know letting you know what bitchassness is and giving you prime examples to let you know if you or your loved ones have been infected.
I, personally, am done with all the backbiting and covert bitchassness that has been going on lately. I've been on pause for a minute, but I'm about to press play and go off on some people.
Diddy said there will be no bitchassness at Bad Boy and the same applies in Slayer Land. Any person with an ounce of bitchassness in them will be called out on their bullshit and and/or eradicated.
State of the Union: Fed Up
Listening to: Bia Bia by Lil John
Gianni did his experiment to expose my real friends from my fake ones by deleting all my numbers out of my phone last year. His rationale was that my real friends would call when they didn't hear from me. I don't think it was wise to have blogged about it while it was going on, because I had some friends that called me right after they read that post. So, that wasn't the smartest course of action, but whatever. I was in shock at how many people actually read my blog to begin with.
I didn't do an experiment this time because I feel that I shouldn't have to test you to determine if you're my friend. Your actions should show it and I should just know. And what I know is this: a real friend calls for no reason. A real friend emails you or IM's you just because. A real friend will send you random texts just because you crossed their mind. A real friend responds to your text messages. A real friend returns your phone calls in a timely fashion (72 hours is sufficient time to call someone back) A real friend shows up when they say they're going to be there. A real friend doesn't let months on end pass without contacting you. A real friend doesn't contact you when it's close to their birthday or their kid's birthday or Christmas because they know that you buy good presents. A real friend doesn't call you only when they want something from you. They aren't too busy to be bothered with you until their kid needs to be tutored because they're going to be held back, or their spouse is cheating on them or the boyfriend that they kicked you to the curb for breaks up with them and they are at loose ends.
I have spent a week reevaluating my relationships. I can see now who has been there and who hasn't. I can see who takes advantage of my generosity, who take and take without ceasing, who don't put forth any time or any effort, but demand it of me, nonetheless. It makes me sad, but at the end of the day, it is what it is. It's sad. It's a shame. And it's done. I'm done. I'm not going to try anymore. The people that have made the effort are the ones that I'm going to keep around. All the rest...well, they can kick rocks. I am cleaning house and the unhealthy, abusive, undermining, and downright indifferent friendships are coming to an end.
State of the Union: Done
Listening to: Irreplaceble by Beyoncé (Fitting, ain't it?)
It's 5:35 a.m. and I can't sleep. I already did some unpacking before my selective ADD kicked in (Selective because it only flares up when it's something I don't want to do) and I set myself to the task of finding my card reader. After digging in four different spots: Ta Dah!
This is a picture of all the things Ben sent me for the Gift Meme.
Julie doesn't want any of her pictures up on the internet because she thinks her stalker ex boyfriend/baby daddy will find them. (Even though I don't know him, have never met him, and 98% of my friends don't know I have a blog, but whatever). So, as a compromise, the only pictures that will be shown will be non-alcohol and non her-boobs-hanging-out-of-whatever-outfit-she-happens-to- be-wearing, so that pretty much cuts out most of her pictures, but here's a couple from her husband's birthday party.
Julie and Mario.
Drunken whores!
Melody disproves Marlena's theory that redheads are ugly.
Here are some pictures from our improv show at Kick Butt.
Sonya is so talented, it's scary. It's like she has no bones and can make her body do any type of contortion. She's always moving too fast for cameras to capture the essence of her.
This is from my first show at Kick Butt. Sonya is my hero.We show that you can be a bad ass dancer and not look like a twig.
Tasmia and Dee Dee doing a duet dance.
I made a belly dance outfit and then packed it away during my move right before our second improv show, so I took one of my hip scarves and turned it into a shirt. Everyone was impressed. I'm not sure if it was because I did a good job (no one knew it was a hip scarf until I told them) or because they were impressed my boobs didn't pop out while I was dancing.
Dude, my tan lines are STILL here from Cancun in May.
Here are pictures from the Pageant of the Fairy Queen.
Z-Helene's outfit was outrageous. She took the outfit I gave her (the gold parts) and "augmented" them. I think she had a color to represent every fairy in the pageant.
Here is my heinous fairy outfit. I really do look like the Great Pumpkin from the Charlie Brown Special. She sewed the shirt together and just cut holes for my head and arms to pop out of, so I went in and fixed them to make a proper shirt with seams,made the shirt a V neck and put gold leaf accents. I sewed orange and gold tulle and net to the burnt orange hip belt that she made. I would have cut the neckline lower, but I didn't want to be the skank fairy
Tas and I hamming it up in the ugliest costumes in the history of the free world.
Shayla's husband took these really awesome pictures out in the audience. I need to find the cd she put them on. I will post them once I locate it under the mountains of paperwork on my desk at work.
State of the Union: Pictorial (Can I say picture-y?)
Listening to: Viva la Vida by Coldplay
Yes, I am singing the TLC song right now, but it does bring me to something I've been meaning to blog about for a while now. Last night, as I couldn't sleep from the heartburn I get after eating steak late at night (Damn you, Texas Land and Cattle!), I started thinking about my circle of friends. I have friends from work, a few friends from school, friends from various jobs and friends I only see when I go to the bar. Rarely, rarely do they intermingle. I keep my life compartmentalized. Most of my friends don't know each other. 99.9% of my friends will never meet my family.
I realized last night that most of my friends do not live in Austin. They've moved to different cities in Texas, to different states and to different countries. I still email them, or talk to them through My Space, or call them. Even though they aren't here anymore, I still feel the bond to them, so much so, that I never sought replacements for them. Not that they can be replaced in my affections or in my heart, but I would seek another person to replace the physical void that they left.
I know I should get out and make new friends. I have been holed up at home for a while now. I had Gianni, so I didn't need a lot of friends because he was a three ring circus all by himself. I think part of the problem (for lack of a better word) is you guys. My online friends. You blog too much. You lead interesting lives. I have more fun sitting here, reading about your happiness, your sadness, your triumphs, and your disappointments than I do going out. And you wanna know what's bad? Even when I am out, I will find myself thinking about you, worrying about you, and wondering if that issue you've been puzzled over or fretting about has resolved itself.
It is a testament to how much I love you guys that I care more about what you think than some of my "real life" friends. I can be flipping out and you will calm me down, you are genuinely happy when I am happy and you always find the right thing to say or some silly joke or picture to make it okay when I'm sad. Every guy that I date knows that I blog. I say it with pride. (I also tell them that a posse from various states and countries around the world will band together and collectively kick their ass if they mess me about).
I am a mean-hearted, selfish person at times and I don't give credit where it's due, so I am saying it now. Thank you, Online Friend, for being my pillar of support, for being my personal cheering section, and for teaching me everyday, with words and actions, what being a good friend is. Thank you for allowing me to have a glimpse into your world and for opening yourself up to me. Some people think it's nuts that I am so open about my life with you guys. Some people think that "online" means perverted or creepy. I think that they are just jealous.
State of the Union: So Proud of my Crew
Listening to: Smile by Lily Allen
Believe it or not, I really don’t like giving advice to people. It’s kind of pointless. They will do whatever they want to do anyway, no matter what you tell them. Jeremy is breaking my heart, though. Poor little ducky is in love with this chick that took him by storm. She made him open up, made him get honest with himself, made him feel things down to the core of his cold little heart. Then, she got sick. He took care of her as best as he could, but she thought she was going to die and she wanted to be with her family, so she went back to Kuala Lumpur.
She went home and got treatment and now she’s in remission. He e-mailed and IMed this girl every single day for months on end. She told him that she would come back once she was better and they could start their life together. Only problem is, she’s been in remission for almost three years now and she’s made no efforts to come back here. She still does the electronic correspondence with him, but waaay less frequently than before. If he hears from her every three weeks or so, he’s batting a thousand.
Everyone has tried to tell him that he needs to move on and find someone else because she’s obviously over it. Everyone has tried to take him out, introduce him to new women that are available and accessible for dating, but he won’t hear of it. He has clung to this chick as his one and only, as his ideal, and no one else will do. He’s met some truly spectacular women and booted them because he’s waiting for this woman who I’m sure he’s over-glamatized in his head. (And I know glamatized isn’t a real word, but it’s real to me, so get over it.) He asked me for my honest opinion and I was not looking forward to this. Is there a gentle way to stomp on someone’s hopes and dreams? Yeah, I didn’t think so, either.
I asked him if she gave a timeline or a rough estimate of when she was coming back and she said that she wasn’t sure. From what he was saying (indirectly, of course) she is making a life for herself over there and enjoying her family and is in no hurry to come back here. I tried to be nice. I tried to be gentle. I even tried to play Devil’s Advocate (which I hate to do). He looked just as confused as ever and then I asked him if he wanted me to be a good, supportive friend or if he wanted me to be Demetrius. He asked for it.
I played him straight and told him the truth: put a fork in it; it’s done. If she wanted to be here, she would find a way to get here. Her family is extremely well off; if she wanted to come back here, they could easily pay for her ticket. Heck, they were paying all her living expenses the entire time she lived here and she lived HIGH on the hog, let me tell you. Even if her parents wouldn’t pay for the ticket, if she wanted to be here, she would find a way. She would do whatever it took, no matter how long it took, to get back here. If she was in love, deep, abiding love, she would have been willing to flip burgers at McDonald’s if that’s what it took and this was really, truly where she wanted to be.
I told him that the best thing he can do is remain friends with her and at least open himself up to the idea that there is someone out there that is just as equally suited for him. He probably met 50 girls over that could have been his other half, but he passed them by because he was hung up on a chick that wasn’t hung up on him. I hate situations like this because they were so cute, and so in love, and even I, black hearted, jaded wench that I am, wanted them to be together, but you can’t build something if the other person isn’t willing. You can’t will something into existence. Believe me, I’ve tried.
He looked really sad and then resigned. I got up and bought a Cosmo from the bar and sent him over to give it to my friend, Shelly, who was running low in the drink department. He thinks I was being a good friend, and, in a way, I was, but anyone that knows me knows I’m a matchmaker at heart, and I feel it in my bones that she is the perfect girl for him. Who knows, there could be some serious sparkage and I might be donning my bridesmaid hat for the 23rd time……..
State of the Union: Wistful
Listening to: The Greatest by Cat Power
The time that I've had since my nana has passed has given me time to reflect on my life, what I want out of it, and the relationships that I have. Something the minister said today made perfect sense to me. He was talking about relationships that were built on shaky foundations. I thought about this week and the people that called, the people that texted, the people that e-mailed, the people that dropped in. And I also had time to reflect on the ones that didn't. It wasn't like I was asking for anyone's sympathy, because I wasn't. I wasn't asking for anyone to babysit me or hold my hand. I have tried to go about this entire affair in a dignified, unemotional way because that's how my nana raised me to be in times of trouble, and besides, I had to be strong for my mother and I couldn't do that while simultaneously falling apart.
But, while doing some personal inventory, this whole ordeal has brought to the forefront the fact that I clearly value my relationships with my friends more than they do. Don't get me wrong: Some people have been fantastic. Some did the whole condolence thing and then shifted the conversation to ordinary, everyday things because they knew that was what I wanted. Some came by or called. Then there were some, like Julie and Rolando, that braved the bad weather, the long drive to Dimebox, and my scary family to be there for me at the funeral and burial.
But, what is really sticking forward in my mind is the number of people that claim to be "close and intimate" friends of mine that didn't do a red hot damned thing. People that I have gone out of my way for, people that call me their “sister”, people that I listen to on a daily basis, people that come to me for advice or money, people that basically take and take when they need my help or support, but are nowhere to be found when it's time to reciprocate.
These people are being put on notice. It’s easier to do than I thought, actually. When I have a friend that I letdown and disappointed immensely, but he still managed to text me, still managed to answer the phone when I called, despite his anger, to make sure I was okay. When I have a friend that is going through a custody battle and a nasty divorce, but still brought her babies by to visit me because she knows that it makes me happy when they clamor for hugs and call me "Auntie Dee Dee." When there are people like Gianni, who can't even turn over in bed without being in pain, who can barely lift his head half the time from the meds, let alone his spirits, yet still managed to get on a plane to bring himself and his medical staff here to Austin and was waiting for me when I finally made it home from the funeral. These things put everything in perspective for me. It drove everything home.
I could tell you about how beautiful my nana looked in her mauve suit that I picked out for her, or about how there were so many people in the church that it was jam-packed that people were standing in the back and in the aisles. I could talk about all the loving things that were said about the best woman I know, about how my mother broke down, or how I managed to hold it together and get through reading that damned poem without my voice cracking or shedding a tear. I could, but I won't. I can't. I'll start to cry and I can't do that because, if I start to cry, I'm afraid I will never stop.
What I can tell you is that I am eliminating some of the people that have been cluttering up my life. I am eliminating the friendships with the shaky foundation. This wasn't a formal test for them, but it was a wakeup call for me. During all the nights that I haven’t been able to sleep for shit, I was forced me to reevaluate some of my friendships and, although it pains me to do so, some people are getting a pink slip. I don't have the energy to explain or to make them see how hurtful and painful their lack of communication, their lack of true friendship, was. I don't have the time or the inclination to teach them how to be a good friend. If you don't already know, I'm sorry, but I just don't have it in me anymore to show you. You checked out of my life during the one time that I needed a friend and now, I am regretfully declining your invitation of half-ass friendship. Your pink slip is in the mail.
Check your mailboxes. Hopefully, you won't find one waiting there.
State of the Union: Disillusioned
Listening to: Tears Fall Down by Hootie and the Blowfish
I wrote this last night, but am posting it today. Let's talk about me. Shall we? Let's talk about me for a minute. Did I mention that I am brutally honest? Yes, yes I am. I will tell you the truth. I will not lie to you and tell you what you want to hear. I am not that kind of friend. Did I mention that I will stand up for what I believe is right? Yes, yes I will. I will defend someone or something, regardless of what public consensus or opinion is. Did I mention that I am loyal? No matter what you do (outside of pedophilia, rape, murder or beating up on old people), I will still be your friend. I will defend you, even if you are wrong, and will rip you a new one for being stupid when they are out of earshot. I am a strong person. I know what I want, what I like, what I will stand for, and what I want. I won't let anyone tell me what to think or how to feel. Unfortunately, not everyone has my strong sense of will.
Friend A is under pressure because Friend B does not like her husband. Friend B has gone out of her way to try and poison everyone against Friend A's husband. My question is this: Why would she honestly think that she would choose her over her husband? It boggles my mind. Friend A is in love. Her husband is a good man. Yes, he talks about the Marines entirely too much, but he's a Marine. That's what they do. They talk about guns, weapons, machine fire. I also know that he loves Friend A to death and would kill anyone that tried to hurt her. Doesn't that count for anything?
Friend B is now trying to exclude Friend A from events if she brings her husband. Friend B has gone so far as to uninvite Friend A from her own birthday party that she was throwing her, stole her birthday theme, and has now decided the party will be for two of our other friends who had birthdays later in February. She told Friend A that she can come, provided that she lies and tells her husband that it is girls only, even though everyone else's husbands and significant others will be there. Say what?
Friend A is understandably upset. They have been friends for a long time and Friend B is a big ole bully. I have tried to honor my commitment to not butt in or fight anyone's battles (Lordy, it's so haaaard) and I was so proud this morning when Friend A called to tell me that she put her foot down and is standing up to her. She is throwing her own party and came up with a better theme than the one she picked out the first time. She essentially told Friend B that her husband will always come first and that, if she can't deal with it, too damned bad. I wanted to do cartwheels up and down the aisles and jump up and down screaming. Finally, finally she strapped on a pair and told her off.
I have watched her get bullied into submission time and time again by her. I am so glad that she's finally being proactive and not being a doormat. I know, in the grand scheme of things, the whole thing is silly. I know that the world will not come to an end, this isn't the cure for cancer, or the end of world hunger, but it is a red letter day nonetheless.
I'm so happy I'm going to go home and bake some forbidden cookies.
State of the Union: Jubilant
Listening to: Desvelado by Bobby Pullido
I ran into one of my waffle halves at a party last night. He and I hung out for a bit just talking and relaxing. Sometimes, I forget what a good friend he is. He just listened. He didn't interrupt, he didn't offer up his opinion or try to give me any advice. Then, I did the same for him. We weren't yelling or arguing. We were just mellowed out. He asked why it wasn't like that when we were dating. I told him that it was; he was just too high to notice. We both had a good laugh on that one.
I also had a chance to see my friend Mike who moved back from Reno and I am absolutely shocked at the changes in him. He and his wife divorced five years ago and he's still bitter about it. Dude, people cheat all the time. Some marriages survive, others don't. It's a fact of life. He just can't cope with it. He is carrying a serious chip on his shoulder. He brings it up in every conversation, it's his justification to be an ass to women, and he has this idea in his head that everyone is out to screw him over. It just makes me sad. He was killing buzzes left and right at this party, so who do they recruit to go and talk to him? Yup, me.
I listened, and listened and listened. By the end of his diatribe, I wanted to stab myself in the eye with a fork or slit his throat so he could just stop talking. I think I told him something along the lines that talking about it repeatedly is not making it any better. He needs to move on because she's obviously done the same. Holding on to all that negativity is killing all the good things left inside him and making him bitter. He told me that I couldn't possibly understand. I yelled, "Get over it already!" at the top of my lungs and I was sooo embarrassed because people started cheering.
I kinda went off on him aided,in part, by the Jack Daniels I was drinking to keep warm. I told him he was lucky. He got out with only six years of his life gone. He didn't have any children to fight over. He has no alimony to pay. He also has no cheating whorebag wife to deal with. If he's unhappy and miserable, it's because he's choosing to be that way. I refuse to feel sorry for him. I refuse to pat his head and agree that all the good women are dead or taken. Screw that. I told him he needed to strap on a pair, suck it up and move on. He needs to create his own happiness. Find something that makes him happy and just do it, which is how I got roped into going camping. Bugs? Outdoors? No running water or plumbing?
Me and my big flipping mouth.
State of the Union: Disgusted
Listening to: Fishing in the Dark by the Nitty Gritty Dirty Band
I went to my company's Holiday Party (the drama from that will be in a separate entry) and then my date was supposed to pick up his friend and then meet us at Rodeo. My dad flew into town today, unannounced, wanting to party it up. I met up with him after my party and we went to the club.
One of my friends told me some really sad news. She told me that my friend, Fernando, was shot in the head outside his apartment complex early this morning. They have no suspects and no leads. He broke up a fight outside the club and then everyone left. Then he went home with some unknown guy and someone shot him point blank to the head. This guy was one of the kindest, gentlest people you would ever meet. He never talked shit to people, he never started any fights or stole anyone's chick. He just came in, danced with me, got me drunk, and made sure that I made it home okay. He was my dance partner for seven years.
I was supposed to go out with him last night and I backed out at the last minute. I had to wake up and volunteer for Blue Santa and I knew I couldn't do it with a hangover. He razzed me about it, but he told me to have a good night and that he would see me on Saturday after my party. My heart was breaking tonight because his family was sitting by the door in the cold collecting donations because they couldn't afford to bury him. I only had $150 in cash on me, but I stuck it in the jar and I feel horrible that it wasn't more. My dad emptied out his wallet and then went back to the ATM for more.
Stupid, senseless crimes like this make me realize how fleeting life is. From now on, I'm living every day as if it's my last because this was my wakeup call that not every day is promised.
State of the Union: Shock and Denial
Listening to: Possession by Sarah McLachlan
MORE drama? Are you serious? Yes, I know that's what you're thinking because that's what I'm thinking. My New Years Resolution should be to get new friends because, I swear, they're honestly more trouble than they're worth.
Yesterday was my belly dancing recital. It was relatively low key. I stopped expecting my friends to show up at these things long ago. I stopped expecting anything of my friends, period. I already know that I am a better friend than all of them put together, so I stopped expecting anything, because that's just opening yourself up to get hurt. My friend, Karen, swore up and down that she was going and that nothing would keep her away. Well, something did. She was too tired. She decided to stay at home and do whatever. I wasn't even mad. Now, my friend, Sasha on the other hand, that's a different story.
Sasha was pissed because Karen has a history of making plans and not showing up, of suggesting get togethers and then backing out, things like that. Sasha agreed to work on Saturday so that Karen could come and then she didn't show up and Sasha was understandably upset. She said that it's messed up, and that she always does this, and on and on. Karen tried to make amends by taking us out for coffee. (well, tea for me) She apologized and went into this song and dance about how much she has to do with finals and graduation and everything. She doesn't have enough time, she's sick, she's this, she's that. I've heard it all before. Whatever. Sasha unloaded on her, talking some serious shit. She called her on all her crap and she starts telling her how selfish she is and not to expect a graduation,Christmas *and* birthday present from her. (Karen's birthday is Christmas Eve) Then, she starts going off on her about some stuff I didn't even know happened. Karen gets defensive and starts calling Sasha out on her crap, some of which I didn't know happened.
Imagine sitting in Starbucks, having two girls yelling and screaming at each other, and almost coming to blows. Got that image? Now, imagine me, sitting right there in the middle, with my head going back and forth like people's do when they're watching a tennis match. Got it? Now, imagine me not moving out of the way fast enough as Karen slings her drink at Sasha. Imagine me getting mocha something or other splashed all over my lovely new white cashmere sweater that my nana made by hand for me as one of my Hanukkah gifts. See my mouth open in disbelief? See the anger on my face? See me standing up? See me picking up Sasha's drink and pouring the contents of it over Karen's head? See us getting banned from Starbucks? Do you have the mental picture? Got the imagery? Do you? Can you see it happening?
Because it did.
State of the Union: Pissed and embarrassed, all rolled into one
Listening to: Mother by Danzig
Ever had that feeling that everyone knows something but you? That feeling that everyone in the room is sitting on some information and you are the only one left out of the loop? That's how I felt tonight at my own damned party.
Since the NFL network and large cable companies have gone to war with each other, my company has lucked out and worked out a multi-year deal with the NFL network to show live games on Thursday and Saturday nights. Since I work for the company and I get free cable (everything but porn), I had a viewing for the Packers/Cowboys game for all of my homies that didn't want to be jammed into a sports bar to watch it. I made "game-watching" food and everyone brought beer and liquor and we feasted.
However, I had the uncomfortable feeling that something was being kept from me. There was a weird vibe in the air and everyone looked shift-eyed. I'm going to find out what it is eventually. I mean, seriously, I'm Demetrius. I find out everything. It just makes me feel antsy. And it also makes me feel a tad bit pissed off because this secret they're sitting on is about me and I want to flipping know already.
What to do, what to do? Part of me doesn't want to know because it's probably something bad, but part of me wants to know because it's probably something bad. I'd say I was paranoid, but I have this weird itch in my belly and that normally heralds trouble.
I feel like Marcellus. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
State of the Union: Worried
Listening to: Dia de Enero by Shakira
I don't think there is a single person out there who knows me that can honestly say I am not a good friend. I am the person you call when you need someone to babysit, to help you move, to hold your hair back as you puke your guts out after a bender, to cry with when your heart is broken and to sit up all night gabbing with you when you need someone to listen. I am the friend that you can always count on. I am the friend that will defend you to the end, no matter how wrong you are, the friend that takes your side, no matter what, the friend that you know will always be in your corner cheering for you.
I am soooo beyond waiting for my friends to reciprocate.
I am tired of being the person that is constantly fucked over. I am tired of being the friend that you can drop at moments notice because a better offer came along. I am tired of being the friend you call constantly when your life is going to shit, when you need to borrow money, or you need a favor, but never hear from you when things are going well, whom you avoid like the plague when it comes to paying back said money, and who you get sketchy with when actual assistance is needed in my life.
I shouldn't have to call you every single time and initiate conversation. I shouldn't have to ask you to pay me back the money that you owe me. I shouldn't have to e-mail you first every single time to find out about your life. I shouldn't have to jump through rings of fire or constantly be at your beck and call.
My brother has labled the majority of my friends as losers and users. He says that most of my friends aren't as good to me as I am to them. I argued him down (even though, in some cases, he may have a valid point) and he devised a plan of action for me. (Can you tell he's a psych major?) He erased all the numbers in my phone and all the numbers on my SIM card and I'm not allowed to call anybody. I can only add the numbers back in as people call me and I can only do so for a week. In theory, all my *real* friends will call me to make sure I haven't been butchered to death if they haven't heard from me in a week. This should be interesting.
For all of you that didn't know, My Space is the devil. There, I said it. It's the devil. I laugh at all my friends and coworkers for being My Space addicts. I have dubbed them My Space whores. My Space is banned at our worksite, so, during their breaks, my coworkers will come log onto my Mac and check their My Space page. It's always been laughs and smirky comments, but today I've had it.
Today I was woken up at three in the morning by two friends who were alternately in tears and cursing about comments made about each other on their respective accounts.
What is the big deal? I don't get it. It's like a phenomenon or something that is gripping people's lives and turning people against each other. When two friends that have been friends for over a decade almost come to blows because one girl used a picture off another girl's page without her permission, there is obviously a problem.
My coworkers have been trying to coax me over to the dark side and to get a My Space account. After 45 minutes of drama, I think it's safe to say, I will not be joining the ranks of My Space whores anytime in the foreseeable future.
I don't have a lot of female friends. Girls are this big mystery that I just don't understand. I just don't know how to relate to them. There needs to be some handbook for clueless chicks like myself that tells you what the rules are, what the boundaries are, and what being a friend entails. I should be allowed to read this BEFORE I agree to be your friend, that way I know what I'm getting into. Like a warning label or something.
Case in point. My friend shows up at my house, distraught, because she thinks her husband is cheating on her. I try to calm her down and then she tells me she's too keyed up and she wants to take a ride. We get in her car and, at first, I think we are just randomly riding around, but I soon realize that she has an agenda and, before you know it, I'm on a stakeout, like I'm in an episode of "Alias" or something.
No lie. We were sitting outside some chicks house at 12:30 in the morning running a surveillance mission. During the course of the two hours that we're sitting out there, I hear all his bad qualities, all his faults, and learn so much about their personal life that I can't believe that I didn't pickup on the fact that this chick is mentally unstable sooner. She tells me that he wants to leave her and she wants him to pay, and pay dearly. She plans to soak him for half his worldly goods and his retirement, pension and IRA funds. (Note to self, a) get a prenuptial if I ever get married, as Texas is a community property state b) get a P.O. Box and have all financial info sent there and c) get a psychological profile from the F.B.I. in addition to a criminal background check)
She then proceeds to (and I am soooo not kidding) pull out a camera with one of those paparazzi lenses on it and starts snapping pictures when he comes out. I kindly tell her that I really need to get home because a) I have to go to work at seven in the morning and b) I don't advocate stalking. I have had enough of this freak show at this point and I just want to go to sleep.
She drives me home, but tells me that I'm being an "unsupportive" friend. Is she serious? Did she seriously say that to me? I don't know many people that would get out of bed after midnight and then sit in front of some random person's house for two hours after that while she gained "evidence of treachery" (yes, she really said that) and not complain.
If someone has the handbook, please send me a copy. I obviously need a refresher course, because I have no idea how to be a girl anymore.
