|
( Monday, May. 05, 2003 2:11 pm ) >Won't you come and cheer me up? It is so easy to adore someone when you are with them and then dislike them when you are apart. I guess it might be the opposite if things were going truly wrong. Phone calls also don't work for me. I'd be quite happy if I never had to make a phone call ever again. There, now that that's out of my system, I can tell you that Call, in addition to be the schnuggiest guy ever on Thursday morning, was the most stand-up guy ever on Saturday night and came out for a drink with me, Juney, and my moms. Such a good boy, and I missed out on our usual weekend date, so I practically wanted to jump out after him as he got out of the cab. Speaking of cabs, this weekend I had two of the most inept cab drivers ever. Hopefully it's just because I had been taking many more cabs than usual, and not that I am a magnet for bad service. I mean, really, the streets are numbered, how hard is it? This entry is afflicted with my Sunday-malaise, which is stretching into Monday this week on the strength of my mom being here (and being critical and dispensing advice etc.), and my mom leaving, and getting yet another sorry-we-didn't-want-you-for-an-interview letter, and bad cab drivers, and phone misunderstandings with Call, and eating too much, and feeling useless and stupid, and having to work today, and sleeping in too late this morning, and breaking out, and finding a rip in my pants, and putting off the laundry yet again. I'm just down is all. Happy cinqo de mayo! My mom had a fairly OK time here. I think my nightlife planning didn't go over too well, because she wasn't too keen on the bars and restaurants I picked out (i.e. trendy martini bar was too loud and had nowhere to sit). But she was pleased because I let her buy me a jacket (a cool 70s burnt orange thing with many zippers) and meet and photograph my man Call, who was very charming despite a cold and dropping a martini shaker in a semi-alarming fashion. He weathered my mother's many stories (about meeting my father, moving in with my father, and other inappropriate tales) very well. Juney let the cat out of the bag about me planning to move out west when I tire of the city and become a farmwife for Schmitty, previously mentioned here as the slightly older fella I've had a lingering and amusing and mostly delusional crush on. Moms thought I just liked him for his mind. Oh no. Oh no no, indeed. She saw his picture and reported that he was balding at the temples. Oh well, that won't matter when we're old and gray together, my sweet little farmboy. As you wish. |
|
|
( current ) ( archive ) ( notes ) ( rings ) ( email ) ( profile ) ( design ) ( diaryland ) |
|