<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Whisky Pants
     
     
     

Look, I'm not doing this for you, but for my own dark and twisted reasons. Oh, and because everyone else is doing it.

 
 

February 17, 2005

i'm not ALL about the boobies...

Compared to many, I've got it pretty easy. Great family, great friends, great job, roof over my head, nice entertainment budget... But it has been a trying week.

First, there was the control-freak/ex-girlfriend-stalker that I went out with last Friday. Done. Stick a fork in him. Then there was the the excessively drunk man who would not take no for an answer at 4 am at Casa de Bunny (to clarify, NOT a friend of Bunny's) last weekend. Finally, last night, there was the Stick-In-The-Mud who made it clear that I was not thin enough for him. SITM was wearing a tie chain, mind you, and I wouldn't have gone out with him again even if it had been between him and Mr. Stalker.

So, I find myself at a point where, even though I'm so excited for a couple of my friends and their newfound happiness, I cannot bear their demonstrative affection right now. Knowwhatimean? It feels petty to me, and this makes me feel worse. I alternate between mirth and dejection. At least I'm only dejected half of the time.

In addition to my marathon of frog-kissing, I have to go to court tomorrow as a part of the US Gov't's proceedings against the idiot who tried to steal my purse last October. I have every faith that he will be sentenced to 30 days in jail and then released to steal other and better handbags.

Grrrrr...

I think it is time for some cocktail/retail therapy with my New York posse. And to see the Gates exhibit in Central Park. TAS and Freck: get ready.

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