I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Only drunk when horny

It’s lunchtime and I’m with my family at a restaurant. Things are fine as we’re starting the meal. My phone starts to buzz since it’s on vibrate (I’ve been told my phone rings too many times when we’re together, hence the switch).

“Hey, what’s up? Just having a few drinks at woodys!” It’s K.

At nephew’s christening. About to have buffet lunch. I text back.

“Mmmm I love food! I am getting drunk at woodys.”

Don’t get too drunk.

“Well I am just getting ready to woodys but have already started drinking.”

Have fun! I think it’s best chest contest or something tonight. This is typed 20 minutes later (I'm eating).

“Drag show is tonight. Come visit me!”

Nah. I’ll just be entertained with your drunk texts.

“Ha rifht”


“I am a mess.”

Great. He's been drinking for the past couple hours. And I am on the receiving end of his booziness.

Alcohol poisoning isn’t too bad. You’ll feel better after throwing up.


I don't hear anything for the next hour, or so. I assume he's either throwing up in the can or has crashed on a couch, somewhere.

“LOL can I come visit you?” It's almost midnight. I know what that means. People are only interested in me when they're drunk, it seems. I prompty ignore the message and go to bed; it's been a long day and I'm tired.

My phone beeps in the middle of the night, awakening me from my slumber.

“Ha ha ha I didn’t mean can I come visit you to puke.” It’s 2:23 in the morning. I turn off my phone and think K should take a cold shower before considering texting me, again.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Crazy comes again

It was a day unlike every other. Meaning, it was a day that some sort of shit would hit the fan in a dramatic way. Nothing is simple with me, even though I try to keep clean from all the messiness.


After I finished lunch C, we were both walking down the street and almost bump into some idiot who flings out of a sex shop onto the sidewalk. And that's when I notice who it is: Crazy. Fat like before, wearing too-tight pants and an expression of embarassment from being caught sticky handed.

What I found ironic about this sighting was the big bag he was carrying; someone spent some cash (which is hilarious for a sexual hypocrite).

I tell C about my history with the lunatic. He's in shock, as is everyone who hears about it. How can someone be so cruel, verging on sociopathic? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Crazy.

When I get home, I drop off my things at the door, grab something to drink and check my messages. There are two. One is from a long-term friend of mine and the other is from Crazy. Fun. As much as I want to outrun the fucker, he always manages to speed up ahead of me...

Good to see you today. I would have said hi but I didn't want to interrupt!

Take care!

Do I really have to deal with this, again? Ugh. Why can't some people leave things alone? Or, even better, why can't they leave me alone? The harassment is bothersome, to say the least. It's just some shit I have to clean up at the end of the day. A little bleach on the brain never hurt anyone.

Monday, March 07, 2011

Lofty lunches

Not too long ago, my parents came over to my loft to have lunch. It was the first time they did this. They have never been over together for long periods of time. This time it was for several hours, and it included food.

Typically, my mother is the one who passes by, if only for a short bit. My father doesn’t come around because he doesn’t want to; not out of hatred, but he would rather act as a chauffeur to drop me off, than anything else (and he hates driving).

They arrived early and they went to work finishing off the meal they started at their home. This was the arrangement since they don’t think I can cook (even though I’ve been cooking since I went away to school several years ago).

Everything went off without a hitch. The food was good. The conversation was normal. They didn’t complain about how I’m ruining my life and how my choices are always the wrong ones.

The odd part of it all was how civilized they were. There was no fighting, no yelling or screaming. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting, only retrofitted for 2009.

I was so happy. I almost want to invite them over, again. For lunch.