1. I have a pimple that is bubbling just below the surface on my chin. I know it's there, even though you can't see it yet. And because I know it is there, and can vaguely feel it, I cannot stop touching it.
2. This is sure to aggravate the pimple and make it angry, and red and huge, by the time it decides to spring to life on the lower half of my face.
3. I think this pimple is growing because I'm 99.9% sure I'm fighting with my boyfriend.
4. The reason we're fighting has mutated, and now I'm not quite sure what started it to begin with. But I know it has to do with him thinking he's cute by giving me the assignment of a "writing exercise" of an instruction manual about Moi, then mispronouncing my name (which, FYI, he has never pronounced right in our whole relationship, and for some reason I chose last night to jump on my soap box about it) (see the pronunciation jab in the beginning of this post), then me getting mad at how stubborn he is, then me thinking I'm cute by writing a Governmental-like instruction manual with subparagraphs and asterisks and ancillaries that was supposed to sound unintelligible and confusing, but he took it seriously. He swore he wasn't mad, but our last conversation suggested otherwise.
5. I'm pretty sure we're fighting because, in the midst of a heated discussion (which was awkward, since I was at work and my two coworkers were right there, and I was trying not to allude to the four page behemoth post I'd created earlier in the day at work) - where he was telling me he was confused and I was trying to explain the truth - out of nowhere he told me, in a hushed and hurried voice, that he had to go and he'd call me back (he's at work too. But he was outside. I could hear the wind. Either that or he was breathing really hard.). He hasn't called back, which is normal, because he can get tied up for literally hours on end at his job. BUT, my sitemeter tells me that he had time to diddle around on Divinities for nine minutes and twenty-two seconds. Right after we got off the phone. Which begs the question, did he really have to go because someone came in/something came up, or did he just want to re-read it to stock his Argument Arsenal? Or was he just sick of talking to me? Or - oh, God - did he want to show it to someone else for backup?!
6. See why I have a pimple now?
7. This stupid blog is going to be the death of me. More trouble than its worth sometimes. I feel like I'm always re-explaining what I've already written here because it can be easily misconstrued. If I had a fucking dollar for every time I got some asshole anonymous commenter who needed a reminder that my whole life is not on this blog, and some parts are creative and there's more to me than you read here...Duh. But that's extended to my boyfriend. I can't believe that I had to explain to him that I was being funny.
8. Which, incidentally, is why I don't do humor. I just don't think it translates when I write it. (See: THIS POST) It sounds funny in my head, because I know how it should be read. But I think sometimes that just doesn't come across. I feel like I need to preface "funny" posts (notice the quotation marks around funny...) with instructions. To be read in a sarcastic/obnoxiously informative, know-it-all/ exasperated tone.
9. I have to work tomorrow.
10. But before I have to do that, I have to go home tonight. And so does Billy. And I know I could do the really dramatic "I'll just be staying at my place tonight," thing, but I wouldn't. Because I'm totally enamored of my boyfriend and I don't want to spend the night away from him if I don't have to. And not only would I be totally bluffing, but he'd totally let me go. And I just wouldn't be able to deal with that too. So tonight, we're going to have to "talk" about "today," and I hate, hate, hate having to have "talks" with him about stupid shit like this when he's worked a 12 hour workday. Especially when it all could've been avoided if I could just do funny well.
11. And I'm so ridiculous that I actually just sat here for a minute and wondered if he'd be breaking up with me tonight.
12. Oh my god. I am crazy.
13. Billy once told me that I'm the only "sane" girl he's ever dated. Ha!
14. The best part of my day? This Blog. Seriously. I've read all the way back to May of 2004. Not today but over the past, oh, two months. It's a little out of order when you do it that way, but it's fun nonetheless. And yesterday, I almost peed in my pants right here at my desk while reading it. So I fired it up again today. Because if there's one thing I need to day it's to be distracted. And if there's another thing I need today, it's to laugh. And she can do funny.
15. I have a half hour of work left. I'm going to spend that time going through the aforementioned blog's archives and trying to pretend I'm coughing when I'm really laughing. Then, later tonight, I will smoke and drink heavily.
16. But I'm looking forward to the making up with my man. If you know what I mean, Billy.
16.a. Why is it that fights (real or imagined) with Billy always ultimately turn me on? That's fucked up.
17. I just realized that I've never actually fought-and-woken-up-with my boyfriend before. Never. Not once. It's a very different feeling. It's both a little scarier and more reassuring than the fighting-then-going-home-and-waiting-to-see-who's-going-to-make-the-first-move-the-next-day that I'm used to.
18. It's time to wrap this shit up and get a move on to get ready to go home.
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3 comments:
Well I thought it was funny, but then it's Saturday lunchtime in NZ and I've read the last 3 posts in backwards order, so by the time I got to the funny one I was prepared.
Oh lady...I gotta tell you that Antonio and I get in approximately 1.5 fights per year.
And since I have started this blog, every fight we have ever had has been about something I've written here. And it is ALWAYS the most mundane, "I swear to God I meant nothing by it", totally unsuspected stuff that he gets really mad about.
I can insult his cooking, his undiagnosed OCD, his unibrow, his weirdo clothing...anything. But the tiniest thing will oddly set him off. I don't remember what exactly it was last time, but it was completely lame and innocent but happened to be written around the time that he was quitting smoking and those were the worst 48 hours of my life.
Ditto for my friends.
I have asked them all about 1000 times to stop reading the damn thing and would truly block their IP addresses if I could figure out how (because they never ever comment--not on the blog and not in real life--unless they are pissed off about something or to tell me that they forwarded the blog address to someone I'd rather not be reading it--my in-laws, family members, etc.), yet they only respond with suggestions like, "Why don't you just stop mentioning me, anyone I know, any place I've ever been, any object I've ever used, any career field I've ever thought about going into?"
Drives me cuhhhhhrazy.
And oh my God, the blog you linked has gotta be the absolute most hilarious thing I've read in so long. I read the entire site in like three days. It took a looooong time.
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