Conversation with an Ex with Whom It Ended Badly - Part the 2nd
So, this has really got to stop happening….
I ran into that guy AGAIN today. Actually, more precisely, I ran into his daughter in the ladies room at the local bookstore. She looked me up and down and said “Oh. You. Hi!”
“Hello…” I responded. “Nice to see you.” I then quickly exited hoping her dad wouldn’t be waiting for her. He was. No escape.
We were actually pretty civil and, fortunately, I’m wearing an extremely work inappropriate outfit today, with a super tight top and skirt, so you know. I got that going for me. Looking hot is the best revenge…or something?
Anyway, I’ve happily settled into a seemingly stable relationship with a new guy (although, I thought that 3 months ago and that guy turned out to be a lying, cheating jerkola, but that’s another sad sigh for another time; remember that I am the Cathy of Sad Sigh) so seeing the ex didn’t have as jarring an effect on me this time as it did last time. Not that I regret getting rid of him, it’s just, you know, being dumped for being too smart has a rather, um, terrible effect on the self-esteem of even the brashest of young ladies, ya dig?
But, universe, just because I’m used to seeing him now doesn’t mean you have to throw him in my face, OK? I get it. He still exists. He didn’t die of heart failure while having sex with someone else. Now let’s all pick up and move on. Because he neither lives nor works in my city, so he has NO REASON for being here so goddamned often. Got it, universe?
Can I please just win the lottery?
After actually actively searching for houses for the past couple of weeks I’m pretty tired of not having enough money to buy something that’s actually worth buying. Is that too unreasonable to want to just instantly have millions? C’mon!
An attempt to exercise
About a month ago I generously received a free bike to use at my leisure in San Francisco. I was excited because that meant I could a) get around without having to walk everywhere, b) save money by not taking the bus, and c) get some exercise that doesn’t involve me walking uphill 30 min to my car. Today was the first day I tested the bike out after securing a dorky looking helmet. We only rode a couple of blocks before I went over the manhole that Abe avoided, and BAM, the basket flew off the bike. Just to clarify my ride, I received a cruiser that belonged to my friend’s mom. It has no gears, I have to back pedal to brake, and yes, it has a basket that was previously held on with a bread tie. Because I was so unaccustomed to riding a bike, especially one that operates like the kinds I rode in elementary school before I got a real bike, I forgot how to brake and stopped myself by dragging my feet on the ground in order to pathetically pick up my basket. The easy part about making biking happen again is securing my basket with one of those bungee hook thingys (which I’m sure I’ll somehow snap into my eye). The hard part will be convincing Abe that I’m not just some cruiser riding hipster holding him back while struggling to keep my basket on and struggling up tiny inclines with no gears, so he’ll ride with me again.
More lushy than I am…
Moths like white wine.
They really really like it.
I know this because I left a glass with a tiny bit of white wine on my coffee table last night, and when I went to put it in the sink I looked down and saw 4 dead moths in it.
I screamed.
Homeless Tendencies
In the past two days I’ve been accused of being homeless by two different people. First, I was ridiculed by Abe for the way I looked in a borrowed, oversized army jacket - that I agree with but it was freezing and windy as hell, and I’m a sensible lady. I don’t make disproportionately muscled boys take off their shirt in public to give me to wear as an act of chivalry (Asians on Market). I dress myself with muscled boy’s jacket before leaving the house.
Second, I was accused of living like the homeless people in “The Soloist” which I haven’t seen to dispute, and it was such a specific insult. Of course, this came from my mom who was harassing me about the messy state of my room which has several half unpacked bags from recent trips. As she walked down the hall she yelled that I might as well get a shopping cart to store and push all my stuff with. This is why my mom’s not allowed to go to the movies. I’m concerned because we’re about to watch Doubt.