This weekend started out to be sort of boring. I mean, I don�t have to party all the time, and I don�t. Next weekend Jackie�s coming back, so Saturday night, the night before we pick her up from the airport, Lisa and I are going out for one last hurrah. I just know Jackie�s coming back and I feel it may be the end of my freedom for while to come. I�m feeling pretty antsy.
Thursday night I wrestled all night with my sleep mask, so I was pretty droopy Friday night because I was up every few hours. I felt like I was fighting �the man� and I finally knew what my friend was talking about when she said it was exhausting.
When I came home Friday night, I didn�t feel like doing anything including picking up the phone. And folks have calling me incessantly. I love you Melinda but calling me from Florida every single friggin� day has to be expensive. Some days, I just don�t want to talk on the phone about the same stuff.
Yes, I had Mr. Sweatpants light a candle for Mama. Stop driving me nuts about it.
Saturday, I got up early, because I was �RESTED� and went to clean Grandma�s house. She�s always happy to see me. I brought McDonald�s with me, and of course the stupid twit gave me the wrong food. Every single time I get the wrong crap from any McDonald�s I go to.
Do I actually have to open the crap up right there in the drive thru with 50 people behind me waiting? I guess so. If you ask for regular coffee, you get decaf and they don�t give you that stirrer. If you ask for coke, they give you diet. If you ask for a sausage mcmuffin, they give you as in my case, a bacon egg and cheese mcgrill. I guess I�m gonna have to be a jerk and look at and open everything right there. Grandma wasn�t mad but I was.
Her dogs give a whole new meaning to stinky. Granted, they are adorable. Bambi is a fawn Chihuahua and Toy is a caramel cocker-poo. But they smell and I think this is because Grandma gives them table food.
White Castles (which makes an adult fart) has to be near lethal for dogs.
Yuck, it probably oozes out their pores. So, I gave them both a bath. If they were the sizes that their breeds usually are, my back wouldn�t suffer. Both of these dogs are fat though and carrying them around is like hauling cement blocks.
Reeking of dog, I drive home with the windows down because while the dogs smell good, I now stink. Soon as I get home, I shower and put on my make-up while watching Steel Magnolia�s.
Bored, I decide to visit �Guyville� AKA �Home Depot� but it�s unusually devoid of young men. I run into a lot of old couples and young married's. Boring. I leave empty-handed, without the air filter or some more flowers. I wasn�t feeling lucky at all.
I go home and try to call Mr. Sweatpants because we had plans to hang out but he�s not home. I�m just a little upset. I throw all my dirty clothes in the tub and head to the laundry-mat, which again is pretty much manless. Oh, except for the drunk who wandered in and screamed, �Does anybody have a cigarette? These two young dudes wanted to fight and I�m 50, I�m too old for this.� Me and the elderly couple who were there all kind of jumped because this pig shattered the nice comfortable quiet we had going. We all looked at each other and I said, �I just got one left, I�m sorry.� He says, �I don�t f-in believe this!� and wanders out and almost gets hit by a city bus. I�m thinking, �Go get your own cigarettes you friggin moron.� I�m not in the mood for people�s crap at all.
I go home and watch boring TV, cleaning here and there but not really inspired to do anything.
Up until 1:30 in the morning I�m trying to all Mr. Sweatpants. I worry because he is really gullible and thinks nothing of driving in dangerous areas at 1:00 in the morning to appease Jude�s mom, Lamey. Lamey thinks Mr. Sweatpants is a loser who has nothing better to do than help her raise her son, Jude, who is 10. Lamey socks Mr. Sweatpants for tuition every month cause after all he�s the Godfather and that�s his job, while Jude�s father doesn�t even say thanks to Mr. Sweatpants for doing this. Jude�s father Jerry has never really done much in the way of parenting for Jude, and only recently woke up to the fact that he has a kid and he�s
10 years old. Of course now he wants to be a part of Jude�s life, but on his terms. Poor Jude has two complete assholes for parents and is a good kid thanks only to Mr. Sweatpants.
I�m mad because I know Mr. Sweatpants is running errands for Lamey. I hate her by the way because she totally takes advantage of him, is a mean, crusty man-hating gold-digger and I�m furious with Mr. Sweatpants for letting her walk all over him. He�s been a part of Jude�s life since birth and he adores that child. He doesn�t understand though that by letting Lamey treat him like crap, and Jude seeing that, that Jude is eventually going to mirror Lamey�s behavior. That will stab Rene� in the heart. I see it with such clarity.
I�m pissed because Mr. Sweatpants and I made plans and he stood me up. Nobody does that to the diva. But I can�t even call him and scream at him because he�s not home. And screaming on someone�s answering service is so ghetto, so that�s not an option.
The high point of the day was chatting with my neighbor, J-Dawg, about Rufus and Salsalita. Strangely enough, I could tell when I exchanged pleasantries with J-Dawg that he wanted to talk about something. J-Dawg is usually a man of few words so this was a surprise.
But we spent an hour talking about Rufus issue and that he really needs support from people that love him. Since his family is not supportive, it�s sort of up to us to be there. Real friends don�t leave when times get bad.
While I weeded my garden, J-Dawg and I talked about spending more time with Rufus and Salsalita, and sort of made an agreement that we�d do it.
Sunday morning, two minutes before Mr. Sweatpants has to leave for 11 o�clock mass, he calls me and says, �Sorry I forgot our plans. I was at a gugio match, like all day, and don�t you know this? I left you a long message on the phone this morning.� Well, actually I had heard it and he was very snarky in detailing what all he did that day. I mean everything. And that�s not really necessary. He says, �I�m going to come over and go swimming with you today.� And I say, okay, well please call me back when you get back from mass (which I know takes about an hour).
Well, 1 comes and goes and so does two. I�m getting more and more pissed because I know that he�s at Lamey�s. I try to understand that Lamey is like a daughter to him; I mean, Rene� was going to marry Lamey�s mama, Dracula, years ago. It didn�t work out, but Rene� remained a father figure to Lamey. And when Lamey got pregnant by Jerry, she named Mr. Sweatpants as the godfather. Smart move.
Well, Salsalita calls me and says Rufus wants to bar-b-cue and this is my chance to show that I intend to be a pal. Salsalita comes and gets me and we spend the next few hours oohing and aahing over baby clothes. She gave me a lot of cute stuff for my sister Lenee�s baby. Just holding those little boy clothes made me long for just one more child; I want a boy now. It was just precious.
Mr. Sweatpants finally called at 5 or so in the afternoon. If he planned to go swimming, now was a sucky time since I expected him around 1 o�clock. Salsalita called him back and invited him for the barbecue, and we were hoping he�d come. Instead he was snarky again and snapped that he was �BUSY� and that he�d be over later. Uh, um, you told me that we were going to do something. And then he snarks that lots of things are demanding his attention (nice way of saying he�s too busy for me). I tell him that nothing excuses him from breaking plans with me. He then snarks that he�d be over later. I cry because I�m insulted. I cry because I feel alone lately and that he doesn�t have time for me. I cry because it hurts my feeling. He then says sorry two or three times, and I just hang up on him.
I�m so insulted.
Lisa tells me to try to keep from getting upset because my heart might still be feeling a little racy.
Sniffling, we pore over the baby clothes and cooing over the little feet in the sleepers. You could feel the estrogen in the air. Meanwhile, Rufus cursed and mumbled his way through barbecuing chicken and pork steaks. I must admit he is an expert and they turned out well.
Later, I spent some time outside with Rufus talking about some of our various things in common. It�s important to establish a dialog of understanding and support with him so he knows I�ll listen. Rufus and I have so much in common and I don�t want him to feel alone. Both of us having lost our mothers violently is rare. I never knew anyone else whose mother died a violent death. I felt really alone in that grief until now.
I need him as much as he needs me. And the same for Salsalita.
Of course Mr. Sweatpants is nowhere to be found but I�ll talk about his aggravating ass later.
Money�s been real tight lately, and I don�t know why. It�s not like I go shopping every day, and when I do; I�m the sale queen. I�ve been buying a lot of cute stuff for the house, but again, it�s nothing extravagant. My two main stores right now are Marshall�s and Value City for stuff like shelves, bookcases, etc. I need to buy shelves for Jackie�s room, and she really needs a new dresser. This time, I will make her understand the dresser is not an artist canvas.
My room, I�m thinking should be blue-silver, white and black. I don�t care if people think it�s tired. I love it. It makes me think of a wolf�s coat. I�m sort of wolf-y.
I wish I could find a RL comforter in those colors for cheap. As much as I�d love to own Ralph Lauren Home Collection stuff, I have to be realistic. I love Ralph Lauren on sale; I bought my RL pillow for $6.99 at Marshall�s at it�s the best pillow EVER. I just can�t spend $180.00 on a RL cotton comforter right now, unless it�s on clearance. I mean, I can afford it, but something else won�t get paid.
I believe you can decorate on a budget. People you have to understand that while I was in the military I would never decorate. I said I wouldn�t prettify it until I put down roots somewhere. My rooms were decorated with postcards from various places I�d been.
I�m trying to decorate or homify my surroundings. I want my apartment to reflect my gypsy past. But my decorating sense is a little strange. I usually just put out things that have sentimental value to me, like my sailor hat with the seashells from Jacksonville in it. In my bedroom I have three ships� captains. I love them. I collect them. I�m trying to find more. And what I really want is one of those sailor�s nautical knots decorations, but I�m not paying $50.00 for it. I�m still looking.
9:50 a.m. - 2003-06-23
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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