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As if my vida loca needs to be any more loca, I found out that Speedy next door was asking Office Manager if "she get chance" with me. Umm, okaaay...
For the record, NO! She's a lovely person but I think we all know that I got more than enough trouble going on right now. Yes, I'm totally fucking vulnerable right now but jeez, I'm not that fucking stupid. But you know, at least SOMEONE on the fucking planet finds me attractive. ANYWAY...
The thing about Speedy is, she's really fucking cool and on it. She totally helped us out tonight and if she hadn't, we probably would've left at 10 instead of 9pm. And so the fucking least I could do for her helping us out, was give her a ride home. And that was the strangest ride I've had in a long time.
First she starts telling me that one time, she tried setting up Neatly Dressed with Dell Pickle's gf. And I'm thinking, "Huh?" And I guess she totally read my mind cause she goes, "Yeah yeah, everyone thinks he's gay, but he's totally straight." I mean, I thought he was da kine too, but then he's a real cool guy so like I give a shit.
Anyway, then I ask her about this rumor I heard about the Sexual Harasser. Station Wagon Girl told me that he did something kinda uji to her, then she told me that he freaked one of her guy-friends on the dance floor when they all went out for the staff party. Regardless, Speedy didn't know him personally, but we both figured Station Wagon Girl is credible so we would be wary around him.
Then, I totally forget how it lead to it, but Speedy goes, casual as hell and in mid-conversation, "I'm bi and blah blah blah..." And I do my classic double-take: "You're, umm, bi?" But then, let me re-iterate, I'M NOT THAT FUCKING STUPID!!!
"Yeah, but anyway, blah blah blah."
I swear, I totally couldn't tell. I mean, I... I... I'm just growing old. Then we started talking about Goatee Motherfucker and she's talking about how she always got along with him and they always end up talking about sex and how she's all like, "Sometimes I think, 'C'mon Goatee Motherfucker. FTF?'"
And I'm like, "FTF?"
"Friends That Fuck, Aaron."
I've never been good at acronyms and these kids are thinking of new ones every farking day. I'm so old it isn't funny already.
I swear, if anything, this year is gonna be a learning one for me.
Wednesday, February 9, 2000, 4:20pm
According to my horoscope in the Honolulu Weekly: "Virgos... are by far the brainiest sensualists. A surprisingly high proportion of phone sex operators are Virgos, which is testimony to your power to turn people on just by talking to them... In the coming weeks you'll be especially skilled at getting what you want out of love on the strength of your wit alone. Others may have bigger bank accounts or more irresistible lips, but your seductive powers of persuasion should ultimately win you at least 60 percent of the blessings you crave."
Now, is it just me or is astrology are huge crock of shit? Basically I was trying to impress the living shit out of Her with conversation and a fat lotta leeway that got me! Damnit, Virgos don't get the Brad Pitt looks or the chick magnet builds/heights; they get the fucking conversational skills. Big fucking whoop.
Interestingly enough, for the second time, I've been told I remind them of Michael Stipe. He's, umm, bald.
I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs...
Monday, February 14, 2000, 3:05am
Valentine's Day. Something about this holiday just causes people to lose their minds. Every single girl at work was fucked up. Moody, hyper, and just plain weird. It was like all of downtown needed to take a bite from a giant community lithium.
And I may or may not do a bad bad thing. Actually, I know I'm probably gonna do a bad bad thing.
One girl breaks your heart and the rest of the world will pay for it.
I have this feeling that whenever people do something wrong, a part of them is always planning it before they even need to make a decision. They plan it to actually end up at the decision.
And I find it so strange that I have the power to care about one person, and so little left to give a shit about anyone else.
The Hypocrite Of The Year (that's me) was actually a great date on Valentine's Day Eve. I knew work would be fucked up on V-Day itself (and it was, 13 hours, NO OVERTIME!) so we did the whole dinner thing a night early. And I pretended to be a really sweet, loving boyfriend. I made myself sick. Then I went down on her and gallantly claimed that we didn't have to finish me off although it was just cause I was seriously not in the mood for her elaborate post sex clean up.
I'm turning into such a fucking asshole, if I were me, I'd hate my guts. Since I never leave work when shopping centers are still open, I got Ball And Chain a CD and a card. I actually went out and bought a mushy card, which is actually a huge step for me.
Of course she totally had to go balls out. I'm soon to be the proud owner of a Handspring Visor, some kinda Palm Pilot type thing. Now I just need to figure out what exactly a Palm Pilot type thing is. I'm scared that it's just gonna be a real expensive calender.
Then again, ever since I got the every-minute-counts job, I've been obsessive over my calender. Or perhaps ever since I met Her. Everything must be planned. As little as possible is to be left to chance.
I'm such an asshole.
I can't believe I'm writing this shit.
All these changes. I'm forgeting how to have a sense of humor. I know I wasn't exactly the most responsible son of a bitch on the planet, but I don't think I was ever a prick.
I've tried so hard not to be cynical. I was told when I was a freshmen in high school that I was cynical and since then I've done everything I could to be optimistic because I always thought it was a better challenge to try and be optimistic. I think I'm losing.
Alcohol is a miraculous pain killer though.
