I'm a little bummed this morning, not sure why. I mean, my life... life? Hah, poor choice of words. Existence doesn't suck any worse than it's been sucking.
Oops, that whole paragraph was a poor choice of words... because now the British are all giggling. Ah, well, so what, the British suck fags.
Maybe I forgot to take my Paxil once last week. Or maybe it's the Evil-X, who is the cause of my need for Paxil in the first place, as well as the antidote to it.
Patty's on drugs too, since her mother has a worse effect on her than on me. Both daughters are on drugs. I mean, X is their mom. Poor Daughters. Younger's on two drugs, one she takes to “help her sleep” (that's what the doctor told her... it's an antidepressant).
Daughter was ready for school in plenty of time. I walked off to work.
Daughter calls me at work. She finally got hold of her mom, X isn't giving her a ride. X's boyfriend, who we will simply refer to as “Motherfucker,” is giving her sister a ride. She's going to flunk band for missing too much class. She's really upset and takes her frustrations out on me. I tell her I'll call her mom, and get her mom's phone number.
OK, here's some more unbelievable stuff for you. This would never be a soap opera plot, because nobody would believe it. Here's a little background on Motherfucker.
The first month or two after X left, Leila, my oldest Daughter, the one in special ed, wouldn't even speak to X. And then Patty, my Youngest Daughter, discovered, when MF was showing pictures of his kids (none of whom he has custody of) that MF's son was OD's boyfriend! So, oldest daughter gets along with the guy that's fucking her mom now. That pisses off younger daughter, the gifted one, to exasperation.
I should probably call one daughter Yin, and the other one Yang. But then you would think I was oriental instead of a hazel eyed white man.
Anyway, I don't know why you guys hotlist me, I don't write well at all. I digress too much and my sentences are too long. But Patty is all pissed because Leila is getting a ride and she isn't. And bummed because she's not going to get in to college and “I might as well drop out of school.”
AAAARRGH!!! So, after nearly being brought to tears by Patty's tale of woe, and then getting more pissed the more I think about it (Brits, over here “pissed” means angry, not drunk. So grin and light up a fag), I call up X like I promised. Answering machine answers. She's home, just not answering the phone.
I don't remember exactly what vitriol I left on it, but I do remember that it ended in “God Damn your evil soul to hell, bitch”. After I hung up, I belatedly remembered what my religion was and felt bad about it. I could see Jesus putting a little mark by my name, “OK, one down on the list. He'll have to wait in the flames a bit longer.”
The phone rings. It's Patty. I tell her no ride, has to take a bus. She's hoping she gets run over by a car on the way to the bus stop.
So, yesterday didn't feel much like Friday. I had a hard time concentrating on my job. That's not unusual lately, they're probably not going to give me a very good writeup next review time. Doesn't much matter, budget cuts mean nobody's getting raises anyway.
I had to walk to the other building, half a mile away and missed my morning visit with Married Lady. But the walk cheered me up a bit, and I forced myself to cheer up some, too. But I didn't wear the smile I usually do these days.
Married Lady's right, I need new glasses and a decent haircut. As she reminded me again as we were all in the parking lot after the fire alarm went off. I blamed the fire alarm on Tom's SAS program. Boss says no, it was the smoke coming from Tom's collar when he was working on it.
Married lady's off work early and gives me a ride home. Her husband's out of town gambling. I think if I was an evil bastard I could have had some pussy. But shit, I just couldn't do that. Integrity is a heavy burden for a horny man!
So, daughter is home, and she's going to some ska or punk show with her rudie friends, can she have a dollar? Sure.
I get on the computer, check my mail, check out the want ads at loser.com (the dating service), then log on to K5. Read diaries and get pissed at all the dumbasses who think I want to know what they thought of Matrux Relarded, especially Egg Troll. So I did a review of the reviewers (one word: TARDS).
And no, I can't explain the apparent conflict of language there, considering my “special” older daughter who I love very much. But If I'm not going to be PC about race, ethnicity, or sexual orientation I'd be pretty damned hypocritical to be annoyed at any other word usage. The word doesn't change the reality. “Sticks and stones”. “Geek” and “nerd” used to be insults, and were hurled at me as a youth. No big deal.
I didn't want to repeat last week's mistake, and get shitfaced before I got around any women. So I stayed at K5 until about 9:30, then walked down to Dempsey's.
The band is setting up, I get a beer. No trouble finding a chair, not many people and all the women had matching men. A few men had matching men, too. The band starts playing; a jazz band. Technically good, but too slow and depressing. I finished my beer after the second song and slipped out the back. Walked down the alley through the sparkling broken glass, and wondered whether to just go home or what.
Said the Lord's Prayer and choked on the part about being delivered from evil and being led into temptation; I wanted some pussy. Stood on a corner trying to decide what I wanted to waste the rest of the evening on, pretending to wait for the light, and I notice that a very attractive, well kept blonde driving an expensive car is looking at me. I smile at her, and she smiles back really big. Then the light changed and she drove off.
So I walk up the street, and I notice a few blocks north a bunch of police cars blocking the street, and tents in the street. Must be where all the people were. So I walk that way. Whatever the tents were about is over. A dozen cops are standing around in front of a bar, and I hear what sounds like 80s rock. So I go in.
Somebody tugs at my jacket. “Three dollars.”
“Oops, sorry.” I give him a ten and get change.
The place is packed. Good band, playing hard rock from mostly the ‘80s. I notice that most of the women are pretty ugly. Not many people are smiling.
Hey, I recognize that guy, the devil worshiper from the movie Little Nicky. They must have let him up here for a while. Or kicked him out. I think they were torturing him in much the same way I was being tortured, as he was only about five feet tall, and squat, as if something heavy had been sitting on his head for a decade. And I noticed that all the old ugly women were looking at him longingly, and the beautiful ones were studiously ignoring him.
I felt better. Wonder what he did to piss off Nicky's dad? Hell, probably nothing. After all, why would he NEED to?
I recognized somebody else - a woman who had told me “fuck off” when I tried to hit on her at Dempsey's, standing alone with another woman, who all the guys who she was trying to hit on were hitting on.
The Paxil bottle says “Do not drink alcoholic beverages while taking this medicine”. Hmm... when I first started taking it, two beers had me bouncing off the walls. I think it may be slightly... psychedelic with alcohol? That would explain why the cartoon characters all come out after a few beers too many...
At any rate, I started to see humor everywhere. I didn't even try to hit on any women. But I was grinning, and doing the rock yell after every song and the crowd, who seemed bored when I came in, was cheering up, too.
People were dancing on the bar...
I wound up sitting between two very beautiful women. And the band stopped playing and the lights came on and I was sitting by myself.
Good band, if you're a rocker and find yourself in Central Illinois this summer, look for The Lost Boys.