Monday, July 02, 2007
Feelin no remorse, feelin like my hand was forced
My Weekend in Stories:
1. You really just need the highlights on this one.
I'll give you the keywords:
Blowjob
Strong Gag Reflex on my part
A Profound Assurance that I Will Never Hear from Cam Again
(insert maniacal laughter here)
2. As Karen, Shannon and I were walking home on Friday night around 12:30ish, we ran into my next door neighbor, Jay. Jay, who left a big box of shit (not literally, it's mostly DVD's and a weird pair of shoes) at my place a few months ago and I have been dying for him to come and get the eye-sore out of my bedroom.
"Hey," I say, "when are you going to come and get your shit?"
"Right now," he replied. "I gotta go pick something up, then I'll be right over."
1:30ish, I am dying of hunger, but am too lazy to do anything about it. I call Jay, and ask him to stop and get me some chicken on his way over. He agrees and tells me he'll be there soon.
2:00 am, Jay calls. He wants to know if I'm still awake, and lets me know he'll be there in 20 minutes.
I fall asleep.
3:30 am: I wake up mildly disoriented and not sure if Jay came by to pickup his shit or not. All I know is that I want that box of DVD's out of my apartment.
I assume that he is still out, carousing around the neighborhood, as is his normal routine.
So, I call him to tell him NOT to come over and I'm just going to leave his box o' shit in front of his apartment door.
His girlfriend answers his phone.
And I realize that I am in a STICKY situation. There is no way that I can explain why I am calling Jay at 3:30 in the morning without sounding guilty. He's a cheater- she knows it and I know it. No matter how I explain it, she's not going to believe me.
In a moment of PURE panic, I do the most guilty action of all. I hang up.
30 seconds later, I start receiving phone calls from a Blocked number. I know its her.
And I can't have her hear my voicemail. It says my name on it. And I am over at Jay's apartment often as his sister is the one helping me out with my Legal Battle. If Girlfriend figures out that it's me, I'm going to be in a WORLD of hurt. Probably phyiscally as well as mentally and emotionally.
More panic on my part as I struggle with how to get rid of her without her hearing my voicemail.
So I answer, then hang up.
Repeat. About 20 times.
When finally there is a lull in the Psychotic Calling Frenzy, I call my voicemail, change the message to a generic, computer generated response that gives only my phone number.
I turn my phone off, wait for my heartbeat to slow down and eventually go back to sleep.
3 days later and she's still calling me. About 3-4 times a day.
Yikes.
All I wanted to do was get rid of that friggin box.
So, if you know me, and are confused by my new voicemail- that is why it has changed. It may stay that way for a while.
3. I can only tell so many stories of men picking up on me on the street. It's always the same thing. The same song and dance. They all end up being the same guy. Needless to say, it happened again last night. This one was a little more persistent than most, after I blew him off, he chased me down the street. But he hasn't done anything yet to prove himself different than any other asshole that I've dated in the last year.
Chances that he will respect me and treat me right: 5%
4. Friday afternoon. I am sitting on a chair in a fitting room at a lingerie store pitying myself because a demi-cup bra just doesn't work with my boobs. They're falling out everywhere and NOT in a sexy way. There's just too much boob.
Across from me, Spatch is admiring herself in the mirror in the exact same bra. It looks fantastic on her. It fits her perfect breasts perfectly. The matching panties only enhance the perfection.
The only other bra that is not full coverage in my size is the nastiest pattern ever invented.
I give up on the sexy bras.
They're just not meant for me.
However, the day was perfect. Days with Spatch start out with plans for only one thing- generally food related. Somehow, we always manage to string our single planned event into full day affairs.
Shopping. Pedicures. Gym. Brunch. Bra-fittings. Ice cream. There is almost always ice cream.
And I am always sad to leave her.
Today's Title from: Dirt Off Your Shoulder by Jay-Z
1. You really just need the highlights on this one.
I'll give you the keywords:
Blowjob
Strong Gag Reflex on my part
A Profound Assurance that I Will Never Hear from Cam Again
(insert maniacal laughter here)
2. As Karen, Shannon and I were walking home on Friday night around 12:30ish, we ran into my next door neighbor, Jay. Jay, who left a big box of shit (not literally, it's mostly DVD's and a weird pair of shoes) at my place a few months ago and I have been dying for him to come and get the eye-sore out of my bedroom.
"Hey," I say, "when are you going to come and get your shit?"
"Right now," he replied. "I gotta go pick something up, then I'll be right over."
1:30ish, I am dying of hunger, but am too lazy to do anything about it. I call Jay, and ask him to stop and get me some chicken on his way over. He agrees and tells me he'll be there soon.
2:00 am, Jay calls. He wants to know if I'm still awake, and lets me know he'll be there in 20 minutes.
I fall asleep.
3:30 am: I wake up mildly disoriented and not sure if Jay came by to pickup his shit or not. All I know is that I want that box of DVD's out of my apartment.
I assume that he is still out, carousing around the neighborhood, as is his normal routine.
So, I call him to tell him NOT to come over and I'm just going to leave his box o' shit in front of his apartment door.
His girlfriend answers his phone.
And I realize that I am in a STICKY situation. There is no way that I can explain why I am calling Jay at 3:30 in the morning without sounding guilty. He's a cheater- she knows it and I know it. No matter how I explain it, she's not going to believe me.
In a moment of PURE panic, I do the most guilty action of all. I hang up.
30 seconds later, I start receiving phone calls from a Blocked number. I know its her.
And I can't have her hear my voicemail. It says my name on it. And I am over at Jay's apartment often as his sister is the one helping me out with my Legal Battle. If Girlfriend figures out that it's me, I'm going to be in a WORLD of hurt. Probably phyiscally as well as mentally and emotionally.
More panic on my part as I struggle with how to get rid of her without her hearing my voicemail.
So I answer, then hang up.
Repeat. About 20 times.
When finally there is a lull in the Psychotic Calling Frenzy, I call my voicemail, change the message to a generic, computer generated response that gives only my phone number.
I turn my phone off, wait for my heartbeat to slow down and eventually go back to sleep.
3 days later and she's still calling me. About 3-4 times a day.
Yikes.
All I wanted to do was get rid of that friggin box.
So, if you know me, and are confused by my new voicemail- that is why it has changed. It may stay that way for a while.
3. I can only tell so many stories of men picking up on me on the street. It's always the same thing. The same song and dance. They all end up being the same guy. Needless to say, it happened again last night. This one was a little more persistent than most, after I blew him off, he chased me down the street. But he hasn't done anything yet to prove himself different than any other asshole that I've dated in the last year.
Chances that he will respect me and treat me right: 5%
4. Friday afternoon. I am sitting on a chair in a fitting room at a lingerie store pitying myself because a demi-cup bra just doesn't work with my boobs. They're falling out everywhere and NOT in a sexy way. There's just too much boob.
Across from me, Spatch is admiring herself in the mirror in the exact same bra. It looks fantastic on her. It fits her perfect breasts perfectly. The matching panties only enhance the perfection.
The only other bra that is not full coverage in my size is the nastiest pattern ever invented.
I give up on the sexy bras.
They're just not meant for me.
However, the day was perfect. Days with Spatch start out with plans for only one thing- generally food related. Somehow, we always manage to string our single planned event into full day affairs.
Shopping. Pedicures. Gym. Brunch. Bra-fittings. Ice cream. There is almost always ice cream.
And I am always sad to leave her.
Today's Title from: Dirt Off Your Shoulder by Jay-Z
Posted by Chloe
at 4:47 PM |
Permalink to Feelin no remorse, feelin like my hand was forced |
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