To say that I can be a bit idiotic is a huge compliment. Some days I think to myself - and then tell my mother - there is something seriously wrong with me. Yesterday Upstairs Kid texted me about a gun show. He'd told me about it months ago and yesterday he asked if I could give him a ride. "No way, Jose. I'm not doing shit this weekend" was my initial response. He was cool with it but I ended up feeling bad so I called him hours later and said "fuck it, what time and where?" I woke up asshole early today, as is my want on Satur\days lately, especially now that I don't have curtains, and could not fall back asleep. By 10 I was in my car on my way to grab UK to take him to the show.
Good friend, yes, but my god do I wish I'd stuck with what I told Jose because I was in a wretched mood. Poor UK looked at me with a giddy smile at one point and said "you're being so patient!" I tried to keep my crabbiness to myself because it wasn't his fault. I'm his friend and I think I'm the one he can talk to here in Ohio (he's from Louisiana) and I went and moved out on him. He's taken care of Johan and I've taken care of his drunk ass; hence, we are friends. But it was hot, crowded, and filled with large men. We were only there for a little over an hour and UK didn't buy anything but it felt like ages. I felt bad but he said it was a good show and that, whilst he didn't buy anything, he was glad to see pricing and to see what was on offer. He was looking, by the way, for a Bonnie to go along with my Clyde. Either that or an upper to go with the lower I recently took him to purchase. He chatted with a few people and at one point, spoke a different language called GUN, while I pretended an interest in what I was looking at.
Whilst I was very tired and warm, I figured it was worth it as I had a spa appointment later. My mother send me a "cheer up" present because she knows I'm broke and that I was upset about the dissolution. She sent me two giant cookies (did I mention this? I forget) a lovely enamel bracelet, and three hundred dollars. She all but begged me to use part of it to treat myself. So I made an appointment to get my eyebrows waxed and have a facial. I've just moved and have been physically exhausted. Why the fuck didn't I go for a massage? I was tensed up the entire time because I kept jumping and startling every time the poor woman touched me or ripped off the wax. And the facial was, as always painful. This is how I decide to relax? I told the aesthetician that next time I'll take a tranquilizer. I can't help startling as badly as I do and I'm, apparently, sensitive so this is a bit of a trial. I'm glad I did it but I do wish I'd gotten a massage instead. I couldn't relax but held myself rigid, trying to breathe deeply and remind myself that it might hurt less if I just relaxed. I'm going back in 8 weeks time and hope I fare better. I'm not holding my breath.
It wasn't all gun shows and spa appointments today though. No, I continued setting my new place to rights and was met with my stupidity once again. I was organizing a few things in my huge walk in closet, putting a suitcase away, and as I went to walk out, I somehow caught my foot, the one with the claw marks, through the handle of a reusable shopping bag that then became a sort of bear trap and damn near fell and broke my neck. The bitch of it was that I was working in my bedroom because I knew I had to do something if I wanted to continue sleeping in there as I put my new found dining table in there, right in front of the door and had helped create quite the obstacle course. I knew that if I kept it that way and had to get up in the middle of the night to pee, I'd probably hurt the hell out of myself. Trying to make things safer, I damn near injured myself (again).
And you thought you were stupid.
Good friend, yes, but my god do I wish I'd stuck with what I told Jose because I was in a wretched mood. Poor UK looked at me with a giddy smile at one point and said "you're being so patient!" I tried to keep my crabbiness to myself because it wasn't his fault. I'm his friend and I think I'm the one he can talk to here in Ohio (he's from Louisiana) and I went and moved out on him. He's taken care of Johan and I've taken care of his drunk ass; hence, we are friends. But it was hot, crowded, and filled with large men. We were only there for a little over an hour and UK didn't buy anything but it felt like ages. I felt bad but he said it was a good show and that, whilst he didn't buy anything, he was glad to see pricing and to see what was on offer. He was looking, by the way, for a Bonnie to go along with my Clyde. Either that or an upper to go with the lower I recently took him to purchase. He chatted with a few people and at one point, spoke a different language called GUN, while I pretended an interest in what I was looking at.
Whilst I was very tired and warm, I figured it was worth it as I had a spa appointment later. My mother send me a "cheer up" present because she knows I'm broke and that I was upset about the dissolution. She sent me two giant cookies (did I mention this? I forget) a lovely enamel bracelet, and three hundred dollars. She all but begged me to use part of it to treat myself. So I made an appointment to get my eyebrows waxed and have a facial. I've just moved and have been physically exhausted. Why the fuck didn't I go for a massage? I was tensed up the entire time because I kept jumping and startling every time the poor woman touched me or ripped off the wax. And the facial was, as always painful. This is how I decide to relax? I told the aesthetician that next time I'll take a tranquilizer. I can't help startling as badly as I do and I'm, apparently, sensitive so this is a bit of a trial. I'm glad I did it but I do wish I'd gotten a massage instead. I couldn't relax but held myself rigid, trying to breathe deeply and remind myself that it might hurt less if I just relaxed. I'm going back in 8 weeks time and hope I fare better. I'm not holding my breath.
It wasn't all gun shows and spa appointments today though. No, I continued setting my new place to rights and was met with my stupidity once again. I was organizing a few things in my huge walk in closet, putting a suitcase away, and as I went to walk out, I somehow caught my foot, the one with the claw marks, through the handle of a reusable shopping bag that then became a sort of bear trap and damn near fell and broke my neck. The bitch of it was that I was working in my bedroom because I knew I had to do something if I wanted to continue sleeping in there as I put my new found dining table in there, right in front of the door and had helped create quite the obstacle course. I knew that if I kept it that way and had to get up in the middle of the night to pee, I'd probably hurt the hell out of myself. Trying to make things safer, I damn near injured myself (again).
And you thought you were stupid.
Why are FAB advertisements now showing up on the blog? I guess that is a stupid question. But still - wtf.
ReplyDeleteMeh, you can activate ads to appear and if people click on them, .001 cents or something goes into an account. By the time I'm 112, I'll have earned $5.
ReplyDelete