3:31 p.m. - 2004-10-10
You think I'm kidding, right? Oh, no. The lovely old building I live in has been having some serious plumbing issues lately. Apparently, these include my apartment, too...when I came home on Wednesday, I hear these voices coming from under the floor, and there's a big piece of wall missing in the hallway. The plumber and our maintenance guy tell me that they're doing some repair work, and that I should not use the water. I told them I was leaving for a while, but made sure that I would at least be able to use the potty later. And the shower. Thankfully, these items were fixed when I came home. The kitchen sink was not, though, so I had to wash the coffeepot and my popcorn bowl in the bathroom. The next day, I did have a brand shiny new kitchen faucet. I love my landlord. She explained (when I dropped off my rent) that the pipes were really old and that she was replacing most of them in the building....without anyone ASKING. Most places I've lived, the only time you get immediate maintenance action is if there is raw sewage flowing from your toilet onto their carpet. Other than that, if you need heat, air, hot water, or not to be hit in the head with falling plaster, it could be months before it was fixed. This is why I know about circuit breakers and the reset button on an electric hot water heater. Good times.
Okay, so back to the toilet. I guess it came out of one of the unoccupied apartments. See, here's a picture of it, featuring TM:
Ya'll didn't believe me, did you? That just sounded way too white trash for this ghetto life....
And speaking of the ghetto, BFRB and I were hanging out last night, catching up on things (more later in the entry) and we hear gunshots. We don't flinch. We don't really even pay much attention until the third one. Then we simply comment about how non-fazed we are and count the rest of them. At six, BFRB says, "Well, that's over." But no...there was one more shot. At this point, I say, "It's probably a semi-automatic. The magazines on those can hold 14 bullets." (Why do I know this? Because my father is Mr. Gun Owner. I talked to him on the phone today. His biggest gun, prior to this point, was a Glock .357 semi-automatic pistol, which holds 15 bullets, not 14. Silly me. Now, apparently, he has purchased a Ruger .480. The bullets are .02 inches smaller than those for a full-fledged military-issue machine gun. This only holds five bullets. That's how I found out the other one held 15 without having to mention the neighborhood gang wars to my dad. Maybe I should, though. Maybe then he'd give me money to live somewhere nicer.) BFRB and I do not hear sirens relating to these gunshots, nor do we make the effort to call the cops. They wouldn't do anything anyway, except maybe get out the bullhorn.
On to the conversation between BFRB and I...
Due to the lack of booty in BFRB's life, she finally decided to visit what BFRB2 calls "eLay", and what most people call the online personals. Online dating is so much fun. Ask Kristin! She has lots of fun with strange Russian men with girlie names. Of course, I get all the really weird ones. Here's me:
Okay, I ain't no supermodel, yo, but I don't think I look like a dominatrix, Hispanic, or anyone's evil-bitch psycho ex wife. However, those are the responses I get to my profile. Here's what mine says:
"Funny Sidekick Wants to Be Leading Lady
Profile #1, Sent me an "Icebreaker" saying "Nice Smile."
"siempre he buscado un tesoro que aun que se que es mio no lo he hallado o tal ves simplemente ha estado quivocado, hoy creo que es mi tiempo de hallarlo."
I don't speak Spanish. Next.
Profile #2, Sent me an "Icebreaker" saying "Did it hurt falling from heaven?"
"SBM Native Houstonian enjoys dominoes jazz r@b boxing baskeball football extreme sports camping horseback riding cultural events festivals clubbing shopping billiards dancing comedies classical reggae country western wrestling iso redneck jealous possessive viking cajun gichey cop paramedic alpha dominant powerlifter weightlifter strong intense in love relationships nympho full-figured Role reversal dominitrix wrestling that likes to man handle wrestle and dominate her prey"
My profile says NOTHING about being a dominatrix. I don't want to be one. In fact, I usually attract boys who need a mommy. And sometimes they're gay, too. Next.
Profile #3, I actually e-mailed him.
Here's the reply I got:
BFRB, being blond and gorgeous, got like 40 responses to her ad in two days. Here she is:
She sent a message to Mr. Fine and Hot, and he replied, and they IM'd for three hours, and met for coffee, and went out every night for the last week. Along the way, he was posting in HIS diary, stuff like:
"I go to check my mail on Saturday and lo and behold...I get a message from someone in Oklahoma City...by the looks of the pic I was thinking, "She's way too pretty and sexy looking to put something out here on the personals, it has to be fake"...so I respond and ask if she has more pictures...and lo and behold...SHE REPLIES!!! As always I'm skeptical about this and after talking for what seems like forever we find we have a lot in common..and surprisingly, she's NORMAL!!! No kids, 34, a total knockout beauty, educated and smart! On a whim I ask her out that night and she says yes!!
It's four days later now and I have to say that I think this could be the one...we've been out every night since we first met and I feel like I know her forever...."
It goes on in this vein. Keep in mind, BFRB met this guy on SUNDAY, that would be OCTOBER 3RD. On Friday night (October 8), he says three words, and they weren't, "Let's fuck, baby." I think ya'll know which three I'm talking about. Her shocked response was three words: "You're so sweet."
She went and hung out with him yesterday and he kept on with this crap, and keeps text messaging her every 30 seconds, and generally being a clingy, co-dependent stalker....but wait! In his journal, he professes to be freaked out by shit like that, to wit:
"Yes, I've done this before a bunch of times, and every time I've gotten the same crop of nut cases (I am in Oklahoma remember....). Codependent women who still have baggage from the last ten relationships and four kids in tow who want a daddy that will put up with their shit while she runs off to the bar twice a week to get hammered, come home and then tell you how worthless you are. Sounds like a fucking plot for a new sitcom....
Online dating is an intersting thing....it's kind of like putting your hand into a dark cage...either you are going to get your hand out intact or something is going to gnaw the fucker off and you'll spend the rest of your life whacking off with a stump.
I figured this would be the LAST time I did this, so I put my profile out, ponied up the $19 for a month and joined Yahoo Personals....I responded to a few profiles and got really no replies...I did get one psycho bitch that after two lines of chat she wanted to call me...can you say STALKER??!??"
See, this is the problem. From the above, and some of the rest of this stuff in his diary, you'd think he was a nice, normal, funny guy. He's cute, too. But BFRB gave him an inch and he's taken I-35 from Dallas to St. Paul! Apparently, however, she had a chat with him about this behavior, and he's going to be cool. Which, if it happens, will be great. I need to know that not all men completely suck.
Speaking of, I spent yesterday with GID. We had a fairly good time, and things have been okay between us since his immaturity fest. But then, I wake up this morning and get an e-mail from him, detailing his plans for getting his shit together and (finally) moving out of his mother's house. Which is great, because I really thought I was going to end up dumping his ass over this shit, and I really didn't want to have to go looking for some satisfactory booty, etc. He says he's going to move in with one of his friends "unless I want to get a place together." FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. He knows better. We've had this conversation. I thought I disabused him of the notion that we would EVER be living together. Clearly, no. He's still thinking about it. Shitgoddamnhellfuuuuuuck. He hasn't even SAID the three little words.
I believe I have run on long enough. This is what happens on a rainy Sunday when I'm doing nothing but eating the entire box of Butterfinger Chewy Granola Bars, reading books that are not the one for the book club meeting next week, and avoiding going to the Y. I think I'm trying to pass this off as productivity so I can go hang with BFRB and TM and watch movies. With friends like them, and a perfectly good sex toy, who needs men anyway??