Tangled Webs and Such
I was on the bus rocking the headphones when I noticed the other passengers looking at me. I removed the earpiece and heard my phone ringing. It was Meg. I answered, “Hi there! Whatcha doing?”
“I’m bored. Wanna come over?”
“Sure. How about I bring you a bottle of rum? ‘Baby, it’s cold outside’…” I crooned in my best Bill Clinton voice.
“Love it! Git on over hee-yar…” she corn-poned back.
Yeehaw, a mission! I’d gobbled space-candy, and gone out in search of mischief.
I found it. It was about five miles down the road when I realized I also had a date with Rain.
Double-dipping? That sounds like the finest kind of mischief.
Love Stories from the Wild West End
Does my love life have to be feast or famine? There have been years, absolute years, with no romantic interest on the horizon. A sex life? Hah. That mostly went with the love life. I’m not a natural-born pussy-hound. It takes a lot of smooth talk and alcohol to get me laid. Until recently, anyway.
I haven’t exactly been a monk lately…
The $1.49 Felony
Sometimes it’s the little battles you win at work. The average cashier takes heaps of verbal abuse throughout the course of their employment. It’s the nature of the beast. Rarely does the abuse turn physical. That’s when a cashier’s job gets scary.
The other night, Christmas night, Weird Steven declined a lunch break. Nothing was open, and I was cranky from being up all day. I was grateful not to have to spend the extra hour at The Mothership. Had Weird Steven taken his lunch? This story would be about me…
Praise Jesus! And Juan! And Jose!
It’s Xmas, Part 2. Since the American public is getting screwed out of a sloth-day with Christmas falling on a Sunday, today we get to pretend it’s Christmas all over again. Cool! Where’s my fuckin’ presents?
What? It doesn’t work that way? And I have to go to work?
Bah humbug!
Let’s Go Out To The Movies…
I received an e-mail from Art East. “I saw the title of this movie and thought of you. My doodles at the end.”
Of course, I went to Netflix to see if it is available. Here are the results when not signed into an account.
Signed in? It took me to Clint Eastwood’s profile. Do you feel lucky, punk?
Go ahead, make my day.
Santa: Naughty and Naughtier
I called Meg. “I’m at Freddy’s. Want anything?”
“Do they have my beer?” She likes a certain type of inexpensive malt liquor which has recently been among the brands listed as “troublesome” by the OLCC.
“Nope, nothing even close.”
“Pick up a sixer at my mom and pop store, and I’ll pay you when you get here?”
“Sure!” It was a lovely night for a walk, and there was no shortage of things to look at.
Resolution, Rebirth, etc…
I spent Saturday night at home with the family. It was nice.
Most folks do the New Year’s resolution thingy after a month of gluttonous debauchery. I’m cutting to the chase this year.
I’m not making any loud proclamations that will come back to haunt me if I fail. I choose not to share these plans, other than to say they exist. Will you notice anything about my behavior? Probably not. I hope not. It’s my goal to be a better human being, and hopefully I am doing that already. This is more of a fine tuning, so I feel better about myself on the inside.
The past few months have been a lot of fun. I was able to do things I’d wanted to do forever. I will not revel in the glory of accomplishments, but I will hold them dear to my heart and think of them when I’m down. I’ve spent time with people far from my usual social circle, with enlightening results. I’ve been with women I’m not worthy of, and too good for. (Middle ground, please?) I will love them in their own way, for far different reasons.
But… I have to be true to my school. My brain and heart are what I have to answer to. I usually come up with good answers. This time I’m going to think hard about the questions before I ask them.
May the year 2012 be a bit less bipolar for us all…
Sorry, Not A Winner
I don’t believe in lying. I don’t like being lied to. If I can’t for the most part believe what a person is telling me, it’s time to move on. In turn, I try to be as diplomatically honest as possible.
Someone borrowed $20 from me the other night. Said she was sick and needed medicine. Okay. Called to check on her later. “I’m feeling much better. Come over?” I went, nobody answered when I arrived.
Three days later, a phone call. “Sorry, I fell asleep and when I woke up I felt awful. I’ve been sick in bed…”
I sorta forgot about it, until the other night. I was chatting with her, and she went on about how she’d taken that $20 I’d loaned her for “medicine” and put it into a video poker machine and won $150. Cool! Where’s my $20?
At the predetermined time, I show up and nobody’s home. I’d just checked before coming. Hmm…
Yep. Uh-huh.
Then I get a text message: “Have money order, can’t cash without ID. It’s worth $20, give me $10 for it?”
I could use ten bucks. “Okay. I’ll take it to my bank.”
Friday night, we have a date. “Can I have some laundry money?”
“Sorry, I’m low on cash right now.” I wasn’t, but I’m not telling her that. I want to hear tonight’s story first.
“Okay. Come on over anyway.”
Earlier in the day, the Nephew had asked me to get some things for him on Amazon. He left a wad of allowance money on my desk. $140. I took the money downtown and deposited it into my account.
As I put the deposit receipt into my wallet, an evil plan began forming. I stuck the deposit receipt into a pocket where it would easily fall out.
It’s time for our Friday date, and “something comes up.” A lot of somethings have been coming up lately. I get the excuse of the day. As I stand in her bedroom while strangers mill about in the living room, I drop the deposit receipt, showing the $140 deposit and resulting balance of $147.69 in my checking account, into her bedside trash.
I left her. Not mad, just said goodnight while she was whispering something to some Freddy Krueger-looking dude that arrived with her friend. I expected her to call in five minutes, wondering where I’d gone?
No call, just a text asking me to bring her Taco Bell. Yeah, I’m feeling all Steppen’ Fetchit right now. I had my props in place, and my lie ready:
“Hey, remember that ten bucks you promised me for cashing your money order? Well, when I heard about that, I bet my last five bucks on a Keno four-spot Special Play and won $140! Too bad you didn’t call back and finish our date. I’d have probably left most of it on your dresser. Oh well, thanks. You did me a favor. I deposited it and paid my credit card bill down. Will try to remember to bring you a taco next time you want to see me.”
My plan felt like evil genius, but I didn’t feel right about it. Then I got to musing about how funny it would be if I actually played her birthday and won something. So I played the aforementioned Keno combination. I shopped for dinner, and checked my ticket:
Sorry, not a winner.
Oh well. I played one more, just in case. Sorry, friend. There goes your “laundry money.”
When I awoke to a lovey-dovey text message, I assumed she found my bank deposit slip.
I texted, “I’d love to come by, but I’m broke. Had to deposit money to make auto-bill pay. What time?”
She hasn’t gotten back to me yet. It’s been about eighteen hours.
Yesterday, December 10, has always been a big day in my life. It brings lots of warm, fuzzy blurry memories.
I doubt I’ll remember it as the day I’d had all I could stands, and I couldn’t stands no more…
Legalize It
Somewhere, blue eyes are cryin’ in the rain. With all due respect to Willie Nelson, my outlaw status has been retired.
I am now Green Card approved.
A Moment of Clarity
There’s no fool like an old fool. Those who don’t pay attention to history are doomed to repeat it. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.
Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. I’ve said it all to myself before. I’ve said it to myself when I *knew* my actions would not end the way I wanted. Yet, the eternal optimist, I tried again anyway. To butcher a line from The Departed, “I’m Irish, I’ll tolerate an intolerable situation forever.”
I’m also Danish and Norwegian. We’re stubborn and practical. It was my Scandinavian heritage that took this round. With all due respect to my Irish heritage, the brain had to win over the heart and the dick.
At least this time.
This time, instead of being heartbroken and running for a liquor store, I felt a warm glow of pure hatred, followed by a cold flush. That moment when you *know* the relationship has died in your heart. I felt the weight ascend from my shoulders. I caught a reflection in the bus window: My, what a sinister grin you have! I’m going to be okay.
It’s not the first time we’ve been through this. It may be the last. My heart has run out of room for squatters. The parks are closed, and you can’t use the bathroom. Time to move on.
The sun is shining. It’s cold. It’s going to be a glorious day.
