Hello all,
After all the tumultuous dealings over the last few months, I did not need something else to add to the plate, but as my father said, "If we had luck, it'd be no luck." I don't fully understand that because if you had no luck you wouldn't have luck to begin with, but it sounds like it makes sense to him. My dad has many funny sayings, most of which are replacements for "Omigod!", such as "Goodnight!", "Merry Christmas!", and my favorite "Ho Chi Min!" Although my dad absorbs a lot from TV and movies, he is not a worldly man. Most of his pop cultural idioms come from the 1950's and he feels very "slick" saying them. I won't burst his bubble and tell him that Ho Chi Min is actually a Vietnamese communist leader.
But I digress. On the way to work a few days ago I was in heavy traffic and rear-ended by a Jeep Compass. Only my car was really damaged, and the other driver's insurance is paying for it all. I knew it wasn't my fault when it happened but the second after I was hit I yelled, "MOTHER FUCKER!" After all of the reserved, "Ho Chi Min"s and "Goodnight"s it felt so good to exclaim a real reaction. Say it now, "M-O-T-H-E-R F-U-C-K-E-R." Feels good, right? I knew it.
Since life is cyclical, "piss-on-your-leg"-type of joke, I have naturally had a resurgence of gentlemen callers. Scrooge didn't have it so bad.
Mr. C, the guy from Chicago, called me and told me that he had been thinking about me and wanted to know what I was doing. The last time we had talked his long term goals were for us to go camping at a gay campground in southern Indiana. There are so many things wrong with that sentence I don't have the time to explain to you why it wouldn't have worked out. He was instead going with his friends and wanted me to know that he was thinking about me.
Whoopty-freakin'-do. I'm sure he was. Not to sound too full of myself but I'm the cutest guy who ever pretended that he had a chance in hell with him. At the end of our conversation he said that I shouldn't be a stranger and to feel free to give him a call sometime. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was surprised that his number was still in my phone and I just said, "Ditto, bye!" and hung up.
The older gentleman who craigslisted me texted me today, prefacing his message with, "I'm not expecting a response, but I just thought I'd tell you that my new puppy hasn't gone potty in the house in 3 days." sigh.
This is who I attract. Desperate outdoorsmen and hypersensitive dog-owners. Lucky me. Lucky fuckin' me.
And last, but certainly not least, I got a text from Fuckhead today. Why? Why why why why why? It read, "I am mailing you something. You should get it by Thursday." I responded, "Why and what?" I didn't want to answer at first, I have been doing awesomely with my steps toward a life less failed and have been looking forward to not thinking about him everyday. But as SSSomeone told me, that's when they find you.
"I need to and it's a letter" he responded. I was driving home from work at this point and would have texted him but with my current driving situation I decided to brave the possibilities and call him instead. And by call him I of course mean yell at his voicemail, for he never answers....ballless sack o' crap. My message sounded something like this:
"Letter? A letter. Save your God damn postage! That letter's about 6 months too late! I don't care what you have to say! I don't want to know ANYTHING about you. If you need to write a letter to me to get things off your chest; write it and then throw it away! Just throw it away! Arg! ....bye."
Letter.....a fucking letter! Piss me off, mother fucker and your mother fucking letter! HO CHI MIN!!! I will of course keep you posted when it comes.
Showing posts with label Fuckhead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fuckhead. Show all posts
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Come Smell My Package
Hello all,
I have started to receive packages of my things from Fuckhead. It’s like Christmas; if for Christmas you were only given things that you bought for yourself months if not years ago and you had no recollection of what you actually wanted for Christmas. It’d be a pretty shitty Christmas. I guess the only similarities are opening boxes and seeing things you already expected to be there. We, in the Rogers’ household, have a scheduled Christmas; plan it right and nobody gets hurt.
I already got one box of DVDs and today I got a box of clothes. As I went through the clothes I can not explain why I did what I did, I can only say that I did it obsessively. Piece by piece, I smelled each article of clothing. I don’t even know what I was smelling for. A stranger observing me would have seen a psycho huffing the Gap 2007 spring season and old jazz pants, but I think maybe I was trying to see if the smelled like him. I remember smelling him and thinking that it was intoxicating, but I have no idea what he smells like now. That’s probably a good thing.
As I smelled through a portion of my wardrobe, I would check and see if the previous one smelled like the one I had in my hand, if the pants had more of a scent than the shirts, or if they smelled like more of what they smelled like together or separately. For the most part they smelled like old fabric softener and a humid box.
On the down side he has sent me some things that aren't mine. How frustrating is that.....really. Really fucking frustrating. I mean seriously asshole, if you are going to sent me all this random shit why not send me, oh I don't know..... some of the God damn furniture of mine that you threw out! Or, or maybe, my microwave! Or possibly some of my fucking dishes! Or ANYTHING ELSE! I don't want your ugly ass sweaters from your "moody boho" period. Fuckhead, I call you Fuckhead for a reason.....GOD!.....ug!.......Fuckhead.
All I can say for certain is that swine flu outbreak started in 2 states: New York and Indiana (the news told me so). Coincidence? I think not. Fortunately enough Mom has brought home some face masks that a friend has pressured her into buying. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go and inhale a box of clothes to see if I can remember a person that I hate.
I have started to receive packages of my things from Fuckhead. It’s like Christmas; if for Christmas you were only given things that you bought for yourself months if not years ago and you had no recollection of what you actually wanted for Christmas. It’d be a pretty shitty Christmas. I guess the only similarities are opening boxes and seeing things you already expected to be there. We, in the Rogers’ household, have a scheduled Christmas; plan it right and nobody gets hurt.
I already got one box of DVDs and today I got a box of clothes. As I went through the clothes I can not explain why I did what I did, I can only say that I did it obsessively. Piece by piece, I smelled each article of clothing. I don’t even know what I was smelling for. A stranger observing me would have seen a psycho huffing the Gap 2007 spring season and old jazz pants, but I think maybe I was trying to see if the smelled like him. I remember smelling him and thinking that it was intoxicating, but I have no idea what he smells like now. That’s probably a good thing.
As I smelled through a portion of my wardrobe, I would check and see if the previous one smelled like the one I had in my hand, if the pants had more of a scent than the shirts, or if they smelled like more of what they smelled like together or separately. For the most part they smelled like old fabric softener and a humid box.
On the down side he has sent me some things that aren't mine. How frustrating is that.....really. Really fucking frustrating. I mean seriously asshole, if you are going to sent me all this random shit why not send me, oh I don't know..... some of the God damn furniture of mine that you threw out! Or, or maybe, my microwave! Or possibly some of my fucking dishes! Or ANYTHING ELSE! I don't want your ugly ass sweaters from your "moody boho" period. Fuckhead, I call you Fuckhead for a reason.....GOD!.....ug!.......Fuckhead.
All I can say for certain is that swine flu outbreak started in 2 states: New York and Indiana (the news told me so). Coincidence? I think not. Fortunately enough Mom has brought home some face masks that a friend has pressured her into buying. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go and inhale a box of clothes to see if I can remember a person that I hate.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Final Words
Hello all,
I had a moment of weakness the other day and I called Fuckhead. Right as I did it I regretted it. I’ve had a crappy couple of days and I thought one of two things could happen.
1. His “oh so depressing” life wouldn’t seem so bad and we’d get beck together.
2. He would come to comfort me and we’d get back together.
What am I on? Geeeez.
I have a friend whose theory for me going back to him is all about closure. I’ve come to believe that this is true on many levels, but giving me an excuse to be irrationally emotional and have crazy mood swings is dangerous territory. I think I’d have it all down if I could figure out my last words.
I tried to be reasonable:
“Fuckhead, it’s not going to work because of who you are now, and who I am now. We just need to end this and move on. Your feelings for me are just memories and if you really loved me you’d find a way for us to be together.”
Reasonable, no? This train of thought works for me cause I get to sound like an adult and even though I got screwed over harder than I care to retell, I get to sound like I broke things off yet he is still responsible for the cause.
I’ve also tried not so reasonable:
“Jesus Christ!!!! Why do you keep on doing this to me?!?!? You can’t keep on saying that you love me and not do anything about it!!!!!! That’s not “love”!!! You ruined my life, you son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m never talking to you again!!!! Goodbye!!!!”
Following phone message:
“Why didn’t you call me back?!??!?! What the hell is your problem?!?!? You better call me back or……..or…….you better call me back!!!!!”
Following phone message:
“God you make me so mad!!!! Who do you think you are acting like your life has no consequences!?!?!?...................Ok, I’m sorry I just want to talk. Please call me. Bye.”
Seriously these manic rants have actually come out of my mouth. What am I on?!?!? He has a way of saying absolutely nothing and I read everything into it, like every time we have to end a phone call he says that we’re going to work on getting back together and he’ll call me. Now many of you will think that you wait a few hours and he will call you back and you will begin to work on your relationship. No, no. What he really means is I’ll never call you, everything is your fault, go crazy and eventually reach out to me because I am a douche bag.
If someone could have decoded this for me I could have saved a lot of time and gotten off a list for a sawed-off twelve gage and a bus ticket to NYC.
He is sending me my remaining DVDs and some dance clothes and since he took everything that was ours, I’m not sending him any of his scraps that I have. I am at a loss at what to do with the ring we share together. It’s not a wedding ring but a ring that he bought me that matches one of his that he wears everyday. I stopped wearing it when I got home, and I’ve tried to hide it from myself, but I still know where it is.
I thought that I would throw it into a creek by my house, but maybe that was to Titanic. My friend told me to sell it, but it’s a pinky ring-and how awkward is that to advertise. Recently I’ve thought of mailing it to him once I get my things, but would I need to send a note with it and what would I write and would I want a response and would I ever get one and clearly that will lead to more headaches for me and all who read my blog.
I had a moment of weakness the other day and I called Fuckhead. Right as I did it I regretted it. I’ve had a crappy couple of days and I thought one of two things could happen.
1. His “oh so depressing” life wouldn’t seem so bad and we’d get beck together.
2. He would come to comfort me and we’d get back together.
What am I on? Geeeez.
I have a friend whose theory for me going back to him is all about closure. I’ve come to believe that this is true on many levels, but giving me an excuse to be irrationally emotional and have crazy mood swings is dangerous territory. I think I’d have it all down if I could figure out my last words.
I tried to be reasonable:
“Fuckhead, it’s not going to work because of who you are now, and who I am now. We just need to end this and move on. Your feelings for me are just memories and if you really loved me you’d find a way for us to be together.”
Reasonable, no? This train of thought works for me cause I get to sound like an adult and even though I got screwed over harder than I care to retell, I get to sound like I broke things off yet he is still responsible for the cause.
I’ve also tried not so reasonable:
“Jesus Christ!!!! Why do you keep on doing this to me?!?!? You can’t keep on saying that you love me and not do anything about it!!!!!! That’s not “love”!!! You ruined my life, you son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m never talking to you again!!!! Goodbye!!!!”
Following phone message:
“Why didn’t you call me back?!??!?! What the hell is your problem?!?!? You better call me back or……..or…….you better call me back!!!!!”
Following phone message:
“God you make me so mad!!!! Who do you think you are acting like your life has no consequences!?!?!?...................Ok, I’m sorry I just want to talk. Please call me. Bye.”
Seriously these manic rants have actually come out of my mouth. What am I on?!?!? He has a way of saying absolutely nothing and I read everything into it, like every time we have to end a phone call he says that we’re going to work on getting back together and he’ll call me. Now many of you will think that you wait a few hours and he will call you back and you will begin to work on your relationship. No, no. What he really means is I’ll never call you, everything is your fault, go crazy and eventually reach out to me because I am a douche bag.
If someone could have decoded this for me I could have saved a lot of time and gotten off a list for a sawed-off twelve gage and a bus ticket to NYC.
He is sending me my remaining DVDs and some dance clothes and since he took everything that was ours, I’m not sending him any of his scraps that I have. I am at a loss at what to do with the ring we share together. It’s not a wedding ring but a ring that he bought me that matches one of his that he wears everyday. I stopped wearing it when I got home, and I’ve tried to hide it from myself, but I still know where it is.
I thought that I would throw it into a creek by my house, but maybe that was to Titanic. My friend told me to sell it, but it’s a pinky ring-and how awkward is that to advertise. Recently I’ve thought of mailing it to him once I get my things, but would I need to send a note with it and what would I write and would I want a response and would I ever get one and clearly that will lead to more headaches for me and all who read my blog.
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